Kydd slumped in despair. Only two to set against a probable armada, and they a good sixty miles off in still rough conditions. And in two days . . .
‘This is hard news, Mr Serrano. Are you very sure of what you heard?’
‘Is so, sir.’
‘And . . . you’re telling me the truth, that is to say, no twisters? Do you swear to it?’
‘I say it true,’ the young man said, set and pale.
‘Oh, I’m not saying your flamming me,’ Kydd said hastily. ‘It’s just as how I must now change plans at the gallop.’
‘They come, I swear it.’
Kydd looked into the burning eyes, then eased into a smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Serrano, I believe you. Can we find you some refreshment? You must be-’
‘I go now,’ he whispered, and slipped away.
Kydd tried to marshal his thoughts. He should go immediately to Beresford with the news and the grave admission that the Navy was powerless to stop Liniers; the general would have to improvise his own defences, but if only he could report to him with -
Something stirred at the back of his mind. He peered again at the chart. The tongue of deeper water was indeed an extension of the indented sea passage that gave Montevideo its ocean access – the sparse soundings were probably unreliable but it was worth a try. Animated, he snatched up the dividers and stepped it out. Forty-eight miles. Possible.
He shouted for the master’s mate. ‘Rouse out our fastest dispatch boat – I’ve orders for L’Aurore frigate as will need it to fly.’
It would be a close-run thing but if the frigate met Liniers’s invasion at sea it would be a massacre. Grinning savagely, he dashed off the order that would have the frigate rendezvous off Punta Pavon with his remaining two sumacas, Staunch and Protector. Sobering, he took another sheet and carefully outlined the situation for Popham, setting out his reasoning for working the frigate up to the embarkation point even if it meant stranding the vessel, helpless on the mud between tides.
It would exercise Gilbey considerably to lighten the ship to the extreme as well as the tricky task of feeling his way through the shoals and banks.
Was there anything else? Yes – he should make some showing off Colonia to assure the Spanish that he was still there and blockading, for if they suspected he knew of the real embarkation point they would revert back and no frigate could make it up that far. There was just one snag – he didn’t have a ship for the task.
In frustration he stood up and looked out over the open roadstead before the city. There was a huddle of small fry and one or two larger craft – like the fine-lined schooner close in and the European-looking ship-rigged merchantman. Circumstances demanded a desperate remedy – but what he was contemplating was little more than piracy.
When the master’s mate returned, Kydd was ready. ‘I want a party of twenty good seamen. Arm them and let me know when they’re mustered.’
‘Aye aye, sir!’
It was done. Now, with his orders safely on their way across the storm-torn waters, it was time to let Beresford know what he had in mind.
The general smiled thinly. ‘I can only suppose you are aware of the legal niceties, Captain. If there is a disinclination to assist and you have a confrontation then there’s nothing I can do to intervene or, indeed, shield you from the rigours of the law should they press suit.’
Kydd bit his tongue. That Beresford was honourable and upright was well known; that his high principles would prevent him giving his support to an action that would save his situation was taking it to absurdity.
‘I understand, sir,’ he replied evenly. ‘You have my word there’ll be no contravention of the law.’
He had until those ships were boarded to think of something . . .
The men were waiting when he returned. ‘Ask the duty lieutenant to join us with our usual interpreter cove,’ he ordered, surveying his party. These were good men, volunteers out of the big ships and reliable.
The lieutenant appeared, out of breath. ‘L’tenant Herrick. Sorry, sir, I-’
‘Stand easy, sir. I’ve something to say.’
He turned to the little group and stood in an uncompromising quarterdeck brace. ‘If you men are the kind of prime hands I think you are, looking for a frolic at the expense of the Dons, then today you’ll get your fill. I’ve word General Liniers thinks to cross secretly from another place. Only we can stop him and it may turn out to be a first-rate dusting.
‘Now, L’Aurore frigate is on her way to dispute with him. We’ve Staunch and Protector but need more sail and I’ve a notion where we’ll find it.’
He had their full attention and as he outlined his plan it turned to a fierce glee. ‘I’ll repeat – no man to raise a weapon unless he gets my personal order. Clear?’
Diadem’s launch was manned, Kydd himself taking the tiller, and they pulled for the schooner.
There were no colours evident – he would have to play this carefully.
‘Schooner, ahoy!’ he hailed. A frightened face appeared above a hatch coaming. ‘I’m coming aboard!’
Her low freeboard allowed him to step directly on to her deck and he wasted no time. ‘What flag?’ he demanded, miming the hoisting of one.
‘Ai-ya, Portuguee!’
Kydd heaved a sigh of relief. The Portuguese were neutral – but this was no Portuguese vessel. In his experience they still continued the old custom of the prominent display of a crucifix on the after-deck to which every officer and seaman made passing obeisance, and here the deck was bare. More tellingly, in his capacity as port captain, he had not heard of any such seeking clearance, their canny merchants keeping well away until the situation was settled. This had to be a local trader seeking to evade port dues.
He addressed the launch: ‘L’tenant Herrick and five, if y’ please.’ From below two more bemused crewmen appeared and then an apprehensive officer. ‘Inform this man of who I am, that I suspect his vessel of illegal entry to Buenos Aires,’ he told his interpreter. ‘And that I’m impounding it forthwith.’
It was unheard of to have the captain of the port himself board a harmless trader at the head of an armed party, but it had the desired effect. The officer babbled nervously, then waited while the interpreter said, ‘He say he forget t’ get his paper sign. Isn’t there some way he can . . . ?’
‘Possibly,’ Kydd said, stroking his chin. ‘Has he a cabin where we can talk?’
Some minutes later he came back on deck and, with a smile, made a mock bow to Herrick. ‘L’tenant, this is your new command. I wish you to ship guns and make motions before Colonia until relieved. Good luck.’
Now for the larger ship: it would add presence and should, with its row of false gun-ports, give pause to any troop-laden vessel.
It was anchored further out and the launch began shipping water from the still-boisterous seas. Resolutely they pressed on until they made its lee – but Kydd had noticed that this ship was an altogether different matter: its red flag with three vertical crowns proclaimed it a Danziger, which he remembered hazily was nominally under the Grand Duchy but in practical terms a fief of Prussia, disputed by Poland.
There was no other in sight that was as substantial and he had no alternative but to go through with it. As the boathook seized the main-chains he grabbed the man-rope and hauled himself over the gunwale – to be confronted by a bull of man who stood with his arms folded and feet planted on the deck.
‘Kydd, captain of the port of Buenos Aires,’ he said, in crisp tones. ‘You are the captain?’
‘Ja.’
‘Papers,’ Kydd said, making riffling motions.
They were produced in the old-fashioned saloon. As far as Kydd’s experienced eye could tell, they were faultless. And flourished last, like a trump card, were the entry papers to Buenos Aires, signed by Kydd’s own staff.
He snatched one up. ‘This charter party admits you’re trading with Spain, sir.’
Another paper was slapped down. It was a form of release, signed in florid detail by the Danzig authorities and counter-signed with margin notes by the British consul there.