Countless fathoms of line were laid out on deck: they would be brought to the task of clothing Teazer's masts with shrouds and stays to form, first, the taut standing rigging to brace her masts and, second, the operating machinery of the ship, the running rigging that controlled the yards and sails.
Kydd stood watching, pleased to see individual groups begin to apply themselves under their petty officers.
He turned and went below to his great cabin, now with a small sideboard and a twin-leafed table being vigorously polished. There would be other pieces he could probably cozen out of the dockyard but that could wait. What he wanted to do now required privacy and he shooed everyone out. He unlocked his valise, extracted his orders and sat down to read them properly— in all the activity he had barely had time to skim through the contents.
The preliminaries were mainly concerned with proper obedience to his various superiors. His duties would consist in the main of the conveyance of dispatches and important passengers, with the escorting of smaller convoys. The protection of trade was to be given the highest priority and he was to maintain his best endeavours to annoy the enemy by any means that lay in his power. And after these paragraphs was a direction that, as circumstances might arise from time to time, he was to render such services as requested to the civil government of Malta.
These orders, the first for a captain that he had seen, were broad but clear. His eyes went down the page, taking in the remainder. The concluding part, he noticed with satisfaction, dealt sternly with his duty to "take, burn, sink and destroy" such of the King's enemies who had the temerity to cross his bows and the whole concluded with the forbidding "Hereof you may not fail as you will answer to the contrary at your peril." Keith's unmistakable sharp, angular signature followed the date.
Kydd sat back. It was all so general—but, then, these orders were not there to tell him how to be a captain or how to conduct his ship but only what was expected of him and his little bark. It was entirely his own responsibility how he carried it out, but so many regulations and orders hedged it about . . .
He laid down the papers. After the Articles of War, in the hierarchy of orders and discipline, were the "Fighting Instructions." These were familiar enough to Kydd in detailing how the commander-in-chief desired his battles to be fought, specifically his signals, but were applicable only to the great fleets. Directly relevant were the weighty "Regulations and Instructions Relating to His Majesty's Service at Sea, Established by His Majesty in Council." These dictated the manner of the conduct of his command, covering details as diverse as how salt beef was to be cut up to the stowage of rum, many of which dated back to the hundred years after Sir Francis Drake.
Finally, one set of orders was considered so all-important that as an officer he had had recourse to them as to no other—in fact, they were considered so vital that in Tenacious they had been sewn into canvas and hung on a hook under the half-deck for urgent use by the quarterdeck. But it was no use trying to find them for they did not yet exist. These were the Captain's Orders: the final authority on how the ship was to be run—everything from liberty entitlements to the proper way to salute the quarterdeck. Usually they were inherited from the previous captain and adopted more or less unchanged: Kydd was faced with the task of creating them from scratch as the final arbiter of conduct for every man aboard Teazer.
Restless, he rose and went on deck. If Teazer was to be an effective warship of His Majesty, there was so much to do.
The next days saw satisfying progress. A milestone was passed when yards were crossed—now his ship had a lofty grace that was both fetching and purposeful. More standing rigging began to appear. Within her hull less spectacular matters were in hand: tables were fitted for messes, neat stowage for mess traps against the ship's side above each.
The cabins aft were varnished and outfitted: tiny, but snugly appointed, they were on each side of the main hatchway companion, while further forward the master and boatswain on one side, the surgeon and purser on the other completed the officers' accommodation.
The purser went ashore once more, this time with "necessary money" provided by the Admiralty. Among his tasks was the purchase of lanthorn candles sufficient for the entire ship, the seamen making do with a "purser's moon," a rush dip in an iron saucer.
Teazer received her allowance from the boat pond: a twenty-four-foot cutter, a twenty-two-foot pinnace and a jolly-boat. They were hoisted aboard on each quarter of the ship by davits, stout timbers that stood out over the sea and allowed the boats to be plucked directly from the water instead of the usual laborious arrangement with tackles from the yardarms.
The standing rigging went forward apace, taut and trim; the shrouds, stays and gammoning were stretched along and sailors then began to tar down with the rich, resinous, dark-brown Stockholm tar whose fragrance always spoke to Kydd of the sea and ships.
The end was not far off. Following Kydd's stated preference, the outside hull was "bright-sided." Above the waterline the side was scraped back and payed with rosin, the distillation of turpentine. When cured it would give a yacht-like brightness. It cost him dear from his own pocket but he was determined—and soon the gilders were at work with gold leaf about the pretty stern-quarters. Surveying their work from a boat, he longed to feel Teazer's lively deck in the open sea and test her mettle against the winds, but he would have to contain himself a little longer.
Nearby, Stag was preparing to return to Gibraltar. The Blue Peter rose at her masthead; she would be gone from Malta within twenty-four hours. But her captain had not forgotten and a charmingly worded invitation arrived for Kydd to dine with him that evening.
"Give you joy of your command, sir!" It was a heady moment for Kydd. After he had been rowed out to the frigate, arrayed in his best uniform with its gold lace, then piped aboard in his own right as a full commander of a sloop of the Royal Navy, he had been greeted by the waiting Captain Winthrop, who took him below to his great cabin—just two captains for dinner.
"Thank ye, sir!" Kydd raised his glass. In his euphoria the twinkling gold from the lamps playing round its rim seemed a magical circlet of happiness. "You're away t' sea tomorrow?"
"Gibraltar through the Adriatic. But then, I fear, more service off Toulon," said Winthrop, with a smile.
The wide expanse of Stag's mullioned windows opened on a view of the Maltese evening that was in turns mysterious and electric. In the future this would be Teazer 's home and Kydd's elation mounted. "It could be interestin' service here, I'm thinking," he said casually.
Winthrop uncovered the dish the steward had brought. "Do try this baked lampuka. Local fare, but I dare to say it would be applauded in any company." He helped Kydd to some succulent strips and continued, in the same tone, "Interesting. That's quite the word I would have chosen myself."
Kydd was anxious not to appear naïve and kept silent. Winthrop moved on smoothly: "Tell me, how is your fitting out progressing? Every morning I stand amazed at how your trim little brig is showing her plumage and stretching her wings. Quite your little peacock, I fancy."
Glowing with pleasure, Kydd answered, "Aye, sir, she's a fine enough craft. A little full in the run but long-floored and with a clean entrance. She'll do."
"I'm sure she will," said Winthrop, strongly. "And her people? Are you satisfied?"
"I've some prime hands fr'm Tenacious, sir, an' others come from the fleet—I count m'self lucky they're sent for th' Malta Service at this time."