The seamen would come with their sea-bags but no hammocks or bedding; those must be supplied. And without doubt there would be some who had, by accident or carelessness, been left with no spare clothing; a slop chest would need to be opened. More largesse, it seemed, would secure an early release of stores.
The ship must aim towards self-sufficiency as soon as possible. Water, firewood for the galley, provisions, grog, its complement of ensigns, pennants, all proper devices. But this was only the first stage—mere existence. Then would come the main act: fitting out the ship for sea, using the skills of the seamen.
"They're alongside!" spluttered Purchet, as a confused bumping was felt through the ship's side, but it was not the hands, only the stores lighters from the yard being poled out as promised.
There was barely time for Kydd to apportion his best estimate of tasks by priority when the first launch was sighted. A small table was set up abaft the mainmast and Kydd took his place, his clerk to one side to note his decisions.
"Mr Purchet, any man desirous o' the rate of petty officer make himself known t' ye. Those I'll see first."
The men came over the bulwark with their sea-bags and bundles, and were ushered forward indignantly by the boatswain. Kydd wondered whether he should make a rousing address but realised he would have to repeat himself when others came aboard.
The first prospective petty officers came to the table: hard, skilled men, but wary as they spoke to Kydd. He immediately accepted those who had served in the rate before—he would have the measure of them later.
Laffin, a boatswain's mate in Tenacious, showed no sign of recognition and stood four-square, gazing at a point above Kydd, even when spoken to. Purchet was entitled to one mate, he would do. Another, Poulden: Kydd recalled his fine seamanship and reliability, and rated him quartermaster. The man responded with a broad smile. One further was made quartermaster's mate.
The first wave of aspirants had no sooner been dealt with than a second boat arrived with more. Kydd attended to them, then stood up and hailed the boatswain: "Mr Purchet!" he called loudly. "I'll be dealing with th' rest later. But I'll have ye know that I want all these men t' have the chance to choose their own watch 'n' mess. As long as we has the same numbers in both watches they're free t' choose."
There was an immediate stir: it was routine that men joining were assigned by ship's need and had little chance to stay with their friends. Wide grins spread and a happy babble arose. Kydd was pleased: it was a little enough thing, but it would mean much to those whose freedoms were normally so few.
Kydd returned to his cabin to take stock. Each class of vessel had its establishment—its allowance of guns, personnel, stores entitlement: he had prepared his scheme of complement against this and needed to see how the numbers were proceeding. He was only too aware that he was taking outrageous liberties in his manning but he was relying on the fact that without there being a proper naval presence—the dockyard did not count—bold and resourceful moves would pay handsomely now, with explanations saved for later.
The most conspicuous gap in his list was that of his only officer, a lieutenant. He knew only his name—Dacres, and a Peregrine Dacres no less. He was said to be in Malta but had not left word of his whereabouts.
There was also the lack of a sailing master, and he had heard of no one yet appointed. Kydd's allowance of two midshipmen was now filled with Bowden and the commissioner's nominee, and most of the key petty officers were in place, with a surgeon expected soon.
But where could a master's mate be found in so distant a post as Malta? It was a vital question because the master's mate in a brig would stand watch opposite the lieutenant and without one Kydd would have no alternative but to direct the master to take over or stand watches himself.
For the others he would make shift but Teazer's final standing officer, the gunner, was still on his way from Gibraltar. Apparently a green, just-certificated warrant officer, he had probably been shuffled to out-of-the-way Malta where he could do little harm as he learned. Kydd bit his lip: skill at arms was the deciding factor in any combat and a strong figure at the head of the gunnery crew was an asset.
He had no lieutenant, no master or master's mate. They were all appointed by commission or warrant and therefore there was nothing he could do.
He returned on deck to hear raised voices from a boat coming alongside. "To come aboard," Kydd ordered, hiding a smile. It was the dignified black face of Tysoe, his servant, and by the appearance of things he had not wasted his time while he had been waiting in the frigate. He was jealously guarding two pieces of furniture, which looked much like an officer's cot and some kind of campaign-drawer set.
Tysoe was clearly determined to take charge below: the furniture was wrestled through and into the captain's bedplace to much clucking and keen glances, and a firm promise from Kydd to invest in the very near future in cabin appointments more in keeping with his position.
It did bring up the question of his other domestics. He would have to find a steward, not so much for serving at table but to be responsible for Kydd's own stores, which would be separate from the rest, and in this small vessel also to act as the purser's assistant in issuing provisions. And he would need a coxswain to take charge of his barge and stand by him when required.
Order was coming out of chaos: the boatswain was sending below the men who had sorted themselves into messes, and getting a semblance of balance of petty officers and seamen ready for assignment to watches.
Kydd tried not to look too hard at the men: these were the seamen who would work the ship and serve the guns for him. The success of his command—even the life of his ship—would be in their hands. He spotted Bowden talking with one of the Tenacious hands he had arranged to be sent from the frigate and crossed the deck. "Thank ye, Mr Bowden, that was well done. Please to—"
His attention was diverted as a boat came alongside and an officer swung on to the main deck and made his way over. "Commander Kydd, sir?" he said evenly, removing his hat.
"It is."
"Then might I present myself, sir? Lieutenant Dacres, come to join."
A peep of lace showed at his cuffs; Kydd saw that the uniform was faultlessly cut. "Ye're expected, sir," he said shortly. "As y' can see, the ship is now in commission."
"Ah—yes, sir, so I have heard. I was unavoidably detained by General Pigot. A social occasion, you'll understand."
Kydd ignored the clumsy attempt to impress. "Mr Dacres, I want this vessel at sea within the week. You'll stay aboard an' hold y'self in readiness for any task that I might require." He paused, then continued, "I shall see you in my cabin in fifteen minutes." A guilty thrill rushed through him at the sudden worried look this produced and he turned away quickly in case it betrayed him.
The interview was short: Dacres's experience, he had heard, was confined entirely to ships-of-the-line as both midshipman and lieutenant, but if his easy acquaintance with those in high places was to be believed then his time in Teazer was no more than necessary experience before his own command in due course.
"Start with the watch 'n' station bill, Mr Dacres. I've rated the petty officers—see to the rest if y' please. When we have th' outline of both watches, we'll shift to harbour routine. Tell the cook hard tack at noon, but I'd like t' see a square meal f'r all hands at supper." He stood. "Come, come, Mr Dacres, we've a lot t' do!"
By noon, stores were coming in at a handsome rate. Even while finishing touches were being applied, the boatswain's store was being stocked with pitch and resinous tar and hung about with cordage and blocks, and the carpenter fussed over all manner of copper nails, roves, augers and other arcane implements of his craft.