the greater arena.
Before, the barge, a thirty-two-footer finished in green, scarlet and gilt and under fourteen oars, was to be seen conveying captains and admirals. Now it was crowded and noisy with oarsmen, two men arguing over a giant Union Flag, a seaman's band with trumpets, flutes and drums led by the ship's fiddler, and general revellers. Many wore ribbons threaded through their hats, some the popular band of blue with 'Success to the Delegates' in gold. There was no sign of liquor that Kydd could detect.
Davis took the tiller, Parker and Kydd with him in the sternsheets. 'Where to, Dick?' Davis shouted, above the din.
'Director - then Inflexible, of course, we'll see.'
'Yair. Let go, forrard!' he roared at the bowman. 'Give way together, m' lads!'
The boat surged away from Sandwich and the band struck up immediately. They approached Director: her ship's company, drawn by the merriment, lined her decks. Some mounted the rigging, and cheers sounded, rolling around the anchorage. Parker rose and waved, more cheers came. He looked down at Kydd, flushed and distracted, but there was no mistaking the elation in his face.
They went about under Director's stern, the racket of the band echoing back from the formidable lines of the 64, then shaped course for Inflexible. As they approached the big ship-of-the-line there was the flat thud of a gun and smoke eddied away from the fo'c'sle.
'A salute to th' president,' said Kydd.
Parker acknowledged him with a smile. 'The Inflexibles are our most ardent,' he shouted, in Kydd's ear.
Again the decks were lined, and cheers rang out. When Parker rose, this time he shook both fists in the air, bringing a storm of raucous applause. He repeated his success at the next ship, the frigate Proserpine, which promptly erupted in volleys of cheers. 'I believe this calls for a libation of sorts,' Parker said happily. 'Bear up for the dockyard steps, Bill.'
Just as soon as the boat came alongside, the men scrambled ashore and formed up into a parade, as the band took up a rowdy thumping. The huge flag was proudly held high and taken to the front of the procession.
'Do come with me, Tom. My place is at the fore, and you should share the honours.' Without waiting for a reply, he strode up to the head and bowed to the assembling crowd. Kydd followed, and eased into line behind Parker, who turned and pulled him abreast of himself.
'Delegates, advance!' shouted Parker. The drums thudded twice rapidly, and the colourful procession stepped off gaily to the tune of 'Rule Britannia'. It attracted a noisy, adoring crowd that brought apprentices running, women leaving their work and small boys capering alongside.
As the column swung away down the road, Parker waved affably at the spectators, bowing to some, blowing kisses at the ladies. At first Kydd could only manage a stiff wave, but after a laughing girl threw rose blossoms over him, he joined in with gusto.
Around the corner and through Red Barrier Gate. Thumping lustily, the band brought the first of the Blue Town people running. Cries of 'Huzzah to the delegates - and be damned to Billy Pitt!' were heard. Beribboned sailors already ashore added to the uproar.
A larger crowd waited at a timbered building—a tavern with a sign hanging, the Chequers. The band played a hurried final flourish and spilled inside. 'With me, Tom,' Parker called. Kydd found himself at a dark-stained table in the smoky interior.
Davis arrived, his large frame wedging in the high-backed seat. 'Tom, me ol' cock, what c'n I get you?'
Parker intervened. 'Kydd's with me, Bill, and I'll be having my usual. Tom?'
'Oh, a stout pint o' the right sort'll do,' replied Kydd, happily. Parker's tipple turned out to be dog's nose, the splicings being a liberal dash of gin in the beer. The blue haze thickened in the tavern in due proportion to the noise and soon it was a merry throng that celebrated together.
A seaman bawled for attention near the door. 'Dick Parker, ahoy!’
Parker lurched to his feet. 'Who wants him?' he returned loudly.
'Why,
