"M'sieur le capitaine?" he said in a low, nervous voice. "Nous devons nous déplacer rapidement!" Then, glancing about, he exclaimed, "C'est guerre! Le tyran a choisi de se déplacer contre l'Angleterre!"
Kydd went cold, and the agent continued. Napoleon had suddenly declared war himself on the pretext that Britain had not ceded Malta under the terms of the 1801 treaty. The news was not yet public but dispatches were being sent even now all over France—and the worst was that, contrary to the rules of war and common humanity, the First Consul had ordered the instant arrest on the same day of every citizen of Britain, including civilians, on French soil.
It could be days, hours or the next minute that the orders came, and when the origin of the unknown brig off Honfleur was revealed the guns would open fire. They were inside the ring of forts and in full view: the time to leave was now. But ashore there were desperate people who had made a frantic dash to the coast. Their only hope was Teazer. Kydd could not just depart.
"Every boat in th' water. We're not leavin' 'em to Boney," he yelled, and challenged the seamen with his eyes. "Do ye wish t' see the ladies taken b' the French soldiers? An' th' gentlemen cast in chokey?" There were growls of unease, but they came forward.
"Well done, y' sons o' Neptune," Kydd said heartily. "There's those who'll fin' reason t' bless ye tonight."
The first boat returned. The sight of the packed mass of forlorn, wind-whipped creatures brought mutterings of sympathy from those still aboard who helped them over the side, but Kydd did not want to waste time in introductions and waited apart.
Poulden dealt manfully with a tearful hysteric while the gunner took the brunt of a tirade from a foppish young blade. An animated babble replaced Teazer's disciplined quiet until the first passengers were shooed below at the sight of the cutter coming with others. More arrived, including a tearful woman who had been separated from her husband, and an older man with a strong countenance who looked about watchfully as he boarded.
How much more time would they be granted? A muffled crump sounded ominously from across the estuary, answered almost immediately from the Ficfleur battery further up the river. A horrified lull in the chatter on deck was followed by excited speculation, then alarm as another thud was heard. This time the ball could be seen, the distant plume of its first touch followed by an increasing series of smaller ones as it reached out towards them.
"Send up th' signal weft," Kydd ordered. There was no longer any doubt about French intentions: the news had got through and they must now know of Teazer's origins. "Be damned to it!" he said hotly. "Hoist th' ensign, if y' please." They would go out under their true colours. "Hands t' unmoor ship." There was every prospect of the situation turning into a shambles; so many were away in the boats still, yet he needed men to bring in the anchor, others to loose sail.
"Silence on deck!" he roared at the milling crowd, as more boatloads arrived in a rush.
Where was the damned jolly-boat? Was Hodgson having difficulties disengaging from the other frantic refugees who, no doubt, had arrived? His mind shied away from the memory of a similar plight in Guadeloupe and he tried to focus on the present. One more thud, then another—shots from cannon ranging on them. Distances over sea were deceptive for land-based gunners but sooner or later they would find the range and then the whole battery would open up on them.
He needed time to think: most forts faced the wrong way to be a serious menace at this stage but that didn't mean Teazer was safe.
Any warship hearing gunfire and coming to investigate would end their escape before it began.
A ball skipped and bounced not more than a hundred yards away to screams of fright from those who had never been under fire before. Kydd knew they had to go—but should he wait for Hodgson? Send someone back for him? There was still no sign of the jolly-boat but to put to sea now would condemn both the officer and the four seamen with him to capture and incarceration— or worse. Could he bear to have this on his conscience?
In a whirl of feeling and duty he made the decision to leave.
He lifted his face to sniff the wind again; it would dictate how Teazer should unmoor and win the open sea. Then he realised that while he had worried over other things the wind had shifted westwards and diminished—the arc of navigability for a square-rigged vessel was closing. Already their entry track was barred to them; more mid-channel and tightly close-hauled on the larboard tack was the only way out—and be damned to the half-tide banks.
He sent a hand forward to set axe to cable as others loosed sail on the fore alone. Tide-rode and therefore facing upstream, Teazer rapidly began to make sternway, and under the pressure of full sails on the fore, and a naked mainmast together with opposite helm, she wore neatly around until able to set loose at the fore, take up close-hauled—and proceed seaward.
A ripple grew under her forefoot: they were making way at two or three knots, and with the current from the great river this was increasing to a respectable speed. They had a chance. Kydd trained his glass on the fortifications. They seemed to have been caught unready by Teazer's smart pirouette and were silent, but the penalty for making mid-stream was that they were opening the bearing of the closer Villerville guns—and shortening the range for those on the opposite bank.
It would be a near thing; Kydd shied at the mental image of Hodgson and his seamen watching hopelessly as they left but he needed to concentrate on the sea surface ahead for any betraying cross-current and tried not to notice the renewed activity of the cannon. The fall of most shot could not be seen but several balls came close enough to bring on a fresh chorus of shrieks; he bellowed orders that the decks be cleared, all passengers driven below. It would give them no real protection but at least they would be out of sight of the gunfire—and Teazer's commander.
Poulden took several sailors and urged the passengers down the main-hatchway; a lazy dark stippling in the sea to larboard forced Kydd to order the helm up to pay off to leeward and skirt the unknown danger. Suddenly there was an avalanche of crumps from the far shore; they were losing patience with the little brig that was evidently winning through to freedom. But would the artillery officer in charge of this remote coastal battery be experienced enough to direct the aim with deadly effectiveness?
More sinister rippling appeared ahead; Teazer bore away a few points further to leeward. More guns sounded.
The last of the people were being shooed below, and in an unreal tableau, as though it happened at half the speed, Kydd saw a well-dressed lady take the rope at the hatchway and her arm disappear. She stared at the stump in bewilderment. Then the blood came, splashing on her dress and down the hatchway ladder. She crumpled to the deck.
Chaos broke out: some tried to force passage down the hatchway as others sought to escape the madness below. The fop tore himself free and beseeched Kydd to surrender; the man with the strong features snarled at him. It may have been just a lucky shot but who were these folk to appreciate that? Kydd reflected grimly.
Others joined in a relentless assault on his attention and his concentration slipped. With a discordant bumping Teazer took the ground and slewed to a stop. Sail was instantly brailed up but, with a sick feeling, Kydd knew his alternatives were few.
As far as he could tell they had gone aground on the southern edge of the Gambe d'Amfard tidal bank. The critical question was, what was the state of the tide? Would they float off on the flow or end hard and fast on the ebb?
He looked about helplessly. Virtually every vessel in the estuary had vanished at the sound of guns, the last scuttling away upriver as he watched. The battery rumbled another salvo and he felt the wind of at least one ball. It was now only a matter of time. Was there anything at all? And had he the right to risk civilian lives in the saving of a ship-of-war? Did his duty to his country extend to this? If only Renzi was by his side—but he was on his own.