dinner with them, foremast jacks and all, there in the governor's mansion.
'Now, shipmates, you don't need me telling you, nothing like that has happened to us. No! And why? Because — now, don't take this amiss, I should have thought of it before — the government are deeply embarrassed by a successful mutiny. Therefore they pay it off to get it over with, and then they can turn all their attention to us. What does this mean? Again, it doesn't need too much thinking to see that without a pardon, just as soon as we return to duty, they're free to hang the lot of us. Friends, we're nothing else but political scapegoats for Spithead.'
In the uneasy quiet came a lone call. 'So what's t' do then, Mr President?'
'Just to get things on the record, is there any of you wants to trust the pardon and give himself up, hoping that I'm wrong? No? Then please write that down, Mr Kydd. We're still all as determined as we always were.'
Parker leaned forward intently. 'Now this is what I say. You and I both know the only reason the government listens to us is that we hold the biggest hand of all — the keys to the kingdom, the fleet at the Nore. And a bit of thought says that, in truth, we have 'em at our mercy, or they wouldn't let us stay at liberty like this. So — seeing what can be achieved at Spithead, why don't we go further, do better than them?
'First, we make sure we get a special pardon of our own.' Rumbles around the table indicated that his point was well taken. 'Then we make our own demands, good tough ones that finish the job that's just started. This way we save our necks, and at the same time earn the hearty cheers of all our fellow tars from this day.'
There was a stunned silence. Parker sat down and waited. After a minimum of discussion, John Blake of Inflexible spoke for all. 'We're in. Now, let's be started. What about them demands?'
The delegates started with a first article that Kydd noted down as:
'Article 1. That every indulgence granted to the fleet at Portsmouth, be granted to His Majesty's subjects serving in the fleet at the Nore, and places adjacent.'
That was never in dispute, but matters of liberty ashore, arrears of pay and prize money and so many others that presented themselves would not be so easily disposed of. By the dog-watches they had only two articles settled, and it was then that a message arrived from Admiral Buckner, addressed directly to the delegates.
Parker opened it. 'Ah - at last!' He laughed. 'Here, mates, our first official communication. And it says, ta-tum, ta-tum, 'I wish to visit Sandwich to notify His Majesty's pardon upon the terms expressed in their lordships' direction ...' Be damned! It means they're coming to negotiate at last. Tom, let's work a polite reply, saying something like, 'Being sensible of the honour . ..' and all that, and we'll be happy to meet him next morning, and, um, escort him in a procession of grace through the fleet to Sandwich, and so on. That's what they did for Black Dick Howe in Spithead — we can't do less. But we've got to work on these demands, get 'em written fair to present to him tomorrow.'
The meeting continued through the night, men of stalwart beliefs but plain thinking grappling with the formulation of intent into words, the consequences of the effect on meaning of word choice, the sheer effort of rendering thought on to the page. In' the morning there was a demand of eight articles ready for negotiation. The deputation went ashore at two, after taking the precaution of a restorative nap in the forenoon. They landed at the dockyard steps, where a curious crowd waited for the singular sight of what rumour promised would be common seamen making terms with a vice admiral in his own flagship.
'Rare day!' Kydd murmured to Parker, as they formed up on the quayside.
Parker seemed preoccupied, but he lifted his chin high and, with a bearing of nobility and resolve, told Tom, 'Today we make our mark for ever upon the annals of this fair country.' The moment was clouded a little by squabbles among befuddled sailors in the onlookers, spurring them on with impossible suggestions.
Preceded by a large flag the deputation wended through the dockyard to the commissioner's house, a square and forbidding mansion with smoke-blackened bricks, many white-edged windows and a large black polished front door. The whole seemed in defiant repose, like a casde with its drawbridge up.
The deputation quietened, and looked to their president and head of deputation. Parker hammered the big brass knocker three times. Immediate movement behind the door suggested that their arrival was not unexpected. It opened and a gold-laced servant appeared.
'The president and delegates of the fleet of the Nore. We are here to be heard by Admiral Buckner,' Parker said loudly. The servant withdrew quickly, firmly closing the door.
The door catch ratded, and into view stepped Admiral Buckner. He was in full uniform and sword, gold
