It was over in moments. A disbelieving Tenacious had seen Minotaure come straight at her and sent a challenging ball under her bow. There was nothing any sane captain could do when brought to, helpless under the threat of the broadside of a two-decker—her colours came down slowly and HMS Tenacious took possession of her prize.
Chapter 11
THE PRESIDENT LIFTED ANOTHER ROSE in his cupped hands and sniffed it. "Perfect!" He sighed, raising his eyes to meet those of his new secretary of the Navy, Benjamin Stoddert. Then he straightened and said softly, "I'm right glad you accepted, Ben."
There was a moment of shared feeling. This was not the red-blooded hewing of a vision from the chaos of the revolution twenty years before: it was a time for hard-headed recognition of power and reality in a world at war.
"I fear we may be too late," Stoddert said. "It came all of a moil so quick, John."
The lines in Adams's face deepened. "I don't want war with the French—understand that of all things! I loathe their system and their arrogance, but I'll be doing anything I can think of to prevent an alignment of the United States with one party or the other."
Stoddert followed Adams to the next rose-bush. "Agreed— but we must stand up for ourselves. No one in this world will stand up for us."
Adams straightened. "Ben, I've abrogated the treaty we've had since 1778 with the French. I've swallowed insults from Jefferson about my reasons and finally pulled Congress into line. You have your navy. Leave it to me to take care of the rest of the world."
"Yes, sir." Stoddert saw no reason to dilute a response to French actions, but knew better than to debate Adams's moderate tactics. Besides which, Adams had a personal interest in the formation of this new navy: he had been the one to create the Continental Navy, the motley fleet of the revolution that had taken on the Royal Navy at sea. It had then been disbanded. This Federal Navy was going to be different, professional, and Stoddert had the honour of leading it into existence.
"You have your captains now." It had been a fraught business, the few experienced men available vying for positions of seniority and honour.
"I have. Truxtun, Nicholson, Barry, of course, and the lieutenants." It had taken the personal intervention of the ageing George Washington to settle the question of seniority.
"And the ships." Converted merchantmen to begin with, six frigate-class vessels racing to completion: Constitution, Constellation and others.
"And your budget," Adams said finally. Congress had voted it through, complaining bitterly at the cost of the new vessels, and the Republicans had fought against it as irrelevant to a continental power with no enemies, but now it was going to happen.
"Ben, be careful, my friend," Adams said quietly. Both understood the political risks that were being taken. "Well, I won't keep you." He plucked his rose with a sigh, then turned back to Stoddert. "One thing interests me. How will you forge a—a way of doing things, a spirit of the sea, if you will?"
Stoddert pondered. "It seems to me we acquire it in the same way as we have our common law. We take what we want from the English and cast away the rest." He pursed his lips. "After all, it's the Royal Navy, the first navy of the age."
The main sticking point was Gindler. He had begged Kydd not to mention his part, arguing that for him to have taken an active part in operations against a neutral might cause an international incident. But without Gindler's corroboration his account would not be believed—especially the latter stages, which would have been impossible without an accomplice. He could imagine the polite contempt with which his claim would be met at the wardroom table, seen as a shabby attempt to embellish his experiences. No—he could not risk that.
There was nothing for it but a bald statement of his treatment ashore, his urging of a town meeting and the final instructions from Hartford. He had reported as much verbally to the captain, who had generally approved his conduct, understanding his encounter with the odd notions of democracy obtaining ashore. It would take a lot to put the captain out of humour with such a prize meekly astern, and no doubt this report would be passed on to the admiral with suitably warm words.
Kydd was proud of what he had done and chagrined at having to keep it quiet—Renzi had agreed to go over the report for him before he handed it in, but afterwards Kydd had promised him such a tale as would keep him tolerably entertained.
Halifax had seen ships come and go in wartime, and this occasion was not noticeably different. Tenacious anchored in the bosom of the fleet, salutes were exchanged and Captain Houghton, in sword and decorations, went aboard the flagship to make explanation of his prize—and the consequent accession to the admiral's own purse.
By return new fleet instructions were sent to her signal lieutenant, the effective date three days hence.
Kydd groaned with vexation. Signals and their meanings were a prerogative of the admiral commanding the station and were buried in the Fighting Instructions, detailed prescripts from the admiral for the precise manner in which he wished his ships to engage the enemy. Admiral "Black" Dick Howe, who had brought the fleet mutiny at Spithead to an end the previous year, had done much to standardise operation of flag signals and Kydd saw that these from Admiral Vandeput were similar.
There were ten signal flags, then the preparative, and the substitute—pennants and wefts, differences of meaning depending on where hoisted, night signals, recognition procedures, signals for individual ships, divisions, fleets. This was the system that had resulted from so much practice over years of sea warfare. It had gone into battle with Howe on the Glorious First of June; only the previous year Jervis had signalled Nelson at St Vincent, and Duncan had used it with such effect at Camperdown.
Now Lieutenant Kydd had inherited this accrued wisdom and must prove himself worthy of it. He took the signal pocket book, which had been owned by his dead predecessor, as a model and with scissors and patience set about constructing the vade mecum that would stay with him while he was a signal lieutenant.
The flag-lieutenant himself brought the summons: Lieutenant Kydd to wait on the admiral immediately. Kydd flinched when he recalled his previous summoning. What could be the reason now? It was astonishing. He was a mere lieutenant—and so many commanders would slay to be noticed by a commander-in-chief—and there was no apparent reason for it.
Kydd bawled at Tysoe in a fever of anxiety: only new stockings and faultless linen would answer. Decorations? He had none. Sword? The plain hanger he had bought in Halifax would have to do. He pulled on his breeches, watched by half the wardroom.
A gig was brought alongside and Kydd descended the ship's side and sat bolt upright in the sternsheets. The bowman cast off with an excess of flourishes and the midshipman in charge set the men to pulling smartly.
The flag-lieutenant led the way wordlessly to the great cabin. "Lieutenant Kydd, sir."
"Enter!"
Admiral Vandeput advanced to meet him. "Well, now, is this the officer the fuss is all about?" He regarded Kydd keenly.
"Sir?"
The white-haired admiral spoke in an easy manner; this could not be a carpeting.
"Please sit, Mr Kydd." He went round his desk and found a paper, while Kydd perched on the edge of an elegant Windsor chair. "This is a most particular request, not to say direction, and it comes from Mr Liston. Our minister to the United States, that is—what you might call an ambassador." He laid the paper on the table and Kydd glimpsed the cipher of the Court of St James at the top.
"In it he desires me to release an officer for a particular service to a foreign power—as you probably know, we have had officers seconded to the Swedish Crown, St Petersburg, other countries. This is not unusual. It is a little odd, though, that you have been named, and that you are so damn junior." His quiet chuckle took the sting from his words. "It seems the United States is conjuring up their own navy and they have asked Mr Liston for an observer from the Royal Navy, if possible a Lieutenant Kydd. He feels that it would be right at this time to be seen co-operating with a neutral nation.