Kydd sat in a high-backed chair and tried not to appear too obvious as he looked about the great hall. The entire floor was populated with scores of identical raised desks, each with its clerk and scratching quill. An overpowering musty odour of old paper and ink pervaded the air in much the same way as the fug of a frigate's berth deck but here there was no sound other than an echoing susurrus of half a hundred pens.
"Cap'n Kydd?" A kindly old clerk hovered in front of him. "Mr Russell can see you now."
Russell was old-fashioned in appearance, punctilious, his small pince-nez glittering as he peered at Kydd. "Well, Captain, it is certainly not every day we are able to receive such a distinguished sea officer as your own good self, sir."
"You know of my action with La Fouine?" Kydd said, in surprise.
"La Fouine? I'm not sure I follow you, sir. I was simply referring to your remarkable sagacity in devising a stratagem to preserve a convoy off Sicily from depredation. Our agent in Malta speaks highly of you, Mr Kydd."
Kydd looked down modestly. Was he right to hope . . . ?
"And now, sir, of what service may we be to you?" Russell said mildly, taking off his spectacles to polish them.
"Mr Russell, as ye will be aware, with th' late peace, the King's service is less a place f'r an enterprising officer. As a mariner of ambition I see that th' merchant service may provide me more of a future, an' I ask if ye will consider me as suitable f'r your ocean-going trade—" he took a deep breath "—as a master."
The polishing stopped. At first Kydd thought that Russell had not heard, but then he answered, with no change in his expression: "You'll be sound in your nauticals, I will believe," he said, "Pray tell me, sir, your notion of the monetary risks the master of a merchant vessel incurs on behalf of the owner under a charter party voyage."
Kydd shifted uncomfortably.
"Or the rule for calculating per diem demurrage should a particular freight require re-stowage by cause of the consignee? The bottomry premium if calculated on . . ."
At Kydd's embarrassed silence he stopped, then resumed gently, "You will see, Commander, our ways are different, we have other concerns. You will understand if I say that I do wish you well for your future, but at the moment there does not appear to be a marine post now open with us that would be suitable for a gentleman of your undoubted quality."
"I do understand," said Kydd, meekly, "an' I thank ye for your time, sir."
He had come full circle: now there was nothing more. With a polite bow he turned and left, joining the streaming bustle of the street. He felt light-headed and detached; in a way he was relieved that it was all over, no more pretence, no more futile hoping.
Stepping round a pair of drunken, brawling sailors he made for the river but became aware of someone distant calling his name. He looked back and saw the old clerk hurrying after him. "Sir, Cap'n, Mr Russell begs you will grant him a further minute of your time, should you be at liberty to do so."
Russell sat Kydd down and did not waste time. "Mr Kydd, my junior partner has just informed me that, indeed, we may well have a position vacant such as you describe. Due to an illness, one of our senior masters is unable to take post and we stand embarrassed in the matter of our obligations. Is it at all possible that you may consider taking the situation, bearing in mind that this will be an ocean voyage of some months and at short notice to sail?"
Kydd fought to appear calm. "Er, could ye tell me more of th' ship, Mr Russell?"
"The Totnes Castle. A fine barque of four hundred and twenty tons, fully rigged and lying now at Deptford. I should think you will find yourself well satisfied with her."
Trying to hide his soaring hopes, Kydd asked, "Th' cargo? As y' know, I have no experience in cargo handling." He was dimly aware that cargoes such as textiles and rice were stowed differently from exotics like joggaree and Prussian blue.
Russell leaned back expansively. "She's under government contract for the far colonies, so you will have nothing to worry about there—in any case you will have the first mate, Cuzens, to assist you," he added smoothly.
On a long voyage Kydd knew he would have plenty of time to learn the ropes before they made port to discharge. And, glory be, he would be back at sea—as the captain of a ship once again. Elation flooded him. "I'll take her!" he blurted.
"Splendid!" Russell purred. "Then there's just the matter of the formalities, Captain. We are a business, you know."
Papers were sorted, presented and signed. Kydd sighed deeply. He was now master of a ship in the employ of Burns, Throsby and Russell, expected to step aboard and take command directly.
"Er, what will be m' first voyage?" he asked tentatively.
"The Totnes Castle will probably call at Tenerife before sailing south. You're familiar with the Atlantic? Then it would be usual to touch at the Cape before dropping to forty south until you feel able to bear up for New South Wales."
"New Holland!" The other side of the earth—four, five months at sea. And then, at the end of it, what in heaven's name could be there to justify a trading voyage? Sudden suspicion dawned.
"My cargo—"
"Will be stores, grain, tools and so on, the usual supplies for our colonies in Port Jackson."
"And . . . ?"
"A small number of convicted felons, of course, but naturally you will have guards."
A convict ship. His mind froze in horror. He was to command one of those hell-ships that transported unfortunates beyond the seas to Botany Bay? It was . . .
"Mr Kydd," Russell continued earnestly, "we have the utmost faith in your abilities at this very short notice and recognise that the post may not meet with your entire satisfaction. Therefore, subject to a successful conclusion to this voyage, we shall look to offering you a more permanent berth on your return.
"Now, sir, shall we look more closely at the details?"
CHAPTER 11
KYDD GRIPPED THE PAPER FIERCELY. "This Charter Party of Affreightment made and Concluded upon . . . to Port Jackson in New South Wales, on the Terms and Conditions following, Viz . . . and shall be fitted and furnished with Masts, Sails, Yards, Anchors, Cables, Ropes, Cords, Apparel and other . . . the said Burns, Throsby Russell, do Covenant that . . . the said Convicts, their Births, Sickness, Behaviour, or Deaths . . . at the rate of Seventeen Pounds Seven Shillings and Sixpence per head for each Convict . . ."
It was a bewildering and disturbing sea world he was entering. The familiar sturdy dimensions of conduct of the Navy were replaced by a different imperative: success in his profession was now to be measured in cost and profit, his acumen in dealing with traders and authorities to the best advantage of the owners, and the securing of an uneventful and minimally expensed voyage. However, it was the life he had chosen: if he was to move up to a better class of vessel on his return then he had to make a good fist of this, whatever it took—and so little time to learn!
The master's cabin of Totnes Castle was small and utilitarian, gloomy with dark, oiled wood and a smell of close living. The ship herself was of a size, nearly double that of the lovely Teazer, but her interior was undoubtedly for one overriding purpose: the carrying of cargo.
As ship's master he had a dual role, as captain, and as representative to the world of the merchant company Burns, Throsby and Russell. In token of this, his signature was sufficient in itself to incur debt and expenditure without apparent limit in the company's name. To Kydd's disquiet, he had discovered that Totnes Castle did not rate a purser and he was expected to function as one, with the assistance of the steward, whose other duties were to wait at table.