Transfer the mercury? The substance was heavy, each bottle a hundredweight of fragile glass, which must be left in its crates to be swayed up by yardarm or stay tackle. It would take far too long – it could be that this was the latitude that Allemand put out to sea on his dogleg, and by the time the transfer was complete, the fleet would long be out of sight before they could follow. That couldn’t be risked.
He pounded on the fighting top grating in frustration, the lookout shying in bafflement at his behaviour.
Taking one last glance at the stately line of pale blobs disappearing over the horizon, he swung out into the shrouds. He’d give himself until he reached the deck to come up with something or accept the inescapable conclusion.
Anxious upturned faces greeted him as he landed on deck.
‘Cruel luck,’ he said heavily. ‘We have to go after them.’
A babble of voices rose until Kydd cut in: ‘No arguments! We’ve a duty to follow.’
‘The prize?’ Bray demanded. ‘We can’t leave it here!’
‘We can, and we will,’ Kydd answered curtly. ‘Recover all our people from it and prepare to set all sail conformable to the weather.’
The voices grew charged, fretful.
‘Silence on deck!’ Kydd roared. ‘I don’t like this any more than you, but we have our duty, I’ll remind you!’
Seamen came running up, disbelieving the news.
‘Mr Bray! Any man who isn’t at his post will taste the cat and that’s my promise!’
From out of sight below, cries of outrage were soon joined by more. Accusing looks darted his way, unvoiced but venomous.
‘Find out who those mutinous dogs are and bring them before me!’
Bray stomped forward and stood before Kydd, his eyes dangerous. ‘There’s time to save our prize and-’
‘No, there isn’t, Mr Bray, and you know it. Give me a plan that lets us also get after the Crapauds right now and I’ll listen, else we sail.’
Lieutenant Bowden remained silent, his features unreadable, and Brice had taken to pacing the far end of the quarterdeck.
‘Nothing? Then we get under way this hour.’ Turning away he realised that, caught up in the confrontation, he was forgetting something. ‘The gunner to report to me,’ he snapped.
Darby finally appeared, touching his hat with a set expression. ‘Sir?’
‘Take a party and lay a charge to Concord’s main magazine.’
Kydd turned and found Dillon. ‘Go with ’em and tell the crew to be off their ship immediately. Boats, rafts, anything. Barbate is close so they’ll be picked up quickly.’
The Spanish had tried hard to get through by a well-thought-out plan that would have succeeded with the usual run of naval officer but it had been their ill fortune to come across one who had experience with the United States Navy and had uncovered their trick.
When it came, the detonation was a dull crump and brief flare – this was no real frigate on a war-like cruise and wasn’t stored for any protracted fight with tons of powder. Nevertheless the ship took the blow in its vitals and bowed in agony before disappearing beneath the waves.
Kydd turned on his heel and went below.
Chapter 26
At anchor, Cadiz
It was near deserted when Tyger sailed in on the balmy zephyr that was promising sultry conditions before night. Apart from Conqueror and a gaggle of victuallers, there were no others and she had no difficulty in finding a berth.
The mystery fleet Tyger had seen had turned out to be Admiral Strachan’s unannounced return from Toulon to his station off Rochefort, with a coincidental same number of vessels as the French commander, and while the preventive sinking of a prize was unfortunate, it was by no means unusual.
In full dress Kydd took boat for the flagship to make his report, but on boarding he stepped into a graveyard-like gloom.
Not a smile, careless remark, or light-hearted leap for the shrouds – it was a disturbing feeling.
The flag-lieutenant who met him had all the appearance of a whipped dog, and when Kydd asked if something was amiss he mumbled inaudibly and led the way below to the admiral’s day cabin. Outside he paused, as if about to say something, then seemed to think better of it and announced Kydd, then retreated rapidly.
Rowley was behind his desk and looked up as Kydd entered. There was an ugly set to his expression and his eyes narrowed. Was this where the ship’s bad feeling had its origin?
‘Well?’ he barked.
‘My cruise report, as is required by you on its conclusion, sir,’ Kydd said mildly.
‘So?’
Kydd placed a single folded sheet in front of the admiral. The sooner this was over the better.
‘I’ve no time to read that! What does it say?’
‘The coast south is largely quiet, no hostile activity to speak of. In the last week, I fell in with an enemy frigate close inshore and, despite a stratagem to deceive, I succeeded in raking him twice in succession at which he struck.’
‘Then where is your prize, damn it all?’ Rowley stood to gain a one-eighth share as presiding admiral and was taking a rapacious interest now.
‘At that moment there was sighted well to seaward a large amount of sail, in number the same as Allemand’s squadron. I judged it more important to go after the fleet than secure the prize, which I destroyed by touching off its main magazine.’
‘You did what?’ Rowley spluttered. ‘Caused a perfectly good prize to be put down when … when …’
‘Are you saying I was in error to put the unknown sail under chase?’ Kydd said tightly, noting Rowley’s complete disinterest in the fleet and where it was at this moment.
‘Damn right I am! Any naval officer with half his wits would have left a prize crew and-’
‘Not possible … sir.’ Kydd bit off. ‘Two hundred prisoners, a full-rigged ship needing sail handling, and Tyger facing a close-run voyage with half her crew? I don’t think so … sir.’
Rowley glowered. ‘There’s always a way for those with a mort of seamanlike backbone. The trouble with you is-’
Kydd smouldered, then looked directly in Rowley’s face. ‘It had a lading of mercury,’ he said icily.
Recoiling as though slapped in the face, Rowley goggled. ‘Mercury? You mean … the Spanish Atlantic shipment? In a frigate?’
‘Disguised as a United States Navy frigate. Far smarter than using a transport.’
Rowley exploded. ‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ His voice was a rising squeal of outrage. ‘We’d be as rich as Croesus, every one! I stripped the whole coast of every frigate and lay off Mazagon as where the intelligence said it was – and nothing! Then you’re lucky enough to trip over it and you think to throw the whole stinking lot away! What kind of gooney fool are you, Kydd? Hey? Hey?’
Kydd felt a slow burn rise up as it struck him. Stripped the Inshore Squadron of all frigates? Then why hadn’t he been called, too? He’d been deliberately excluded from the tawdry affair in order to miss the share-out.
His face went red. ‘You wanted me out of it, didn’t you? You didn’t need a frigate in the south. You knew it was peaceful. You deliberately decided not to bring me in.’
Rowley glared dangerously but Kydd went on recklessly, ‘So, now you’re hoist by your own petard. If I’d had company the mercury would be under hatches now, but you took ’em all to go off on your fool errand. False intelligence – and you fell for it!’
Breathing deeply, Rowley ground out, ‘As soon as you came before me I knew you’d be trouble, Kydd. You’re a foremast jack who’s clawed his way up and wants to be mistaken for a gentleman. Oh, yes, I’ve heard about your dandy prat rollicking in Town but, let me tell you, I know where you came from and you’re not getting away with it in my command. You’re under me and, by God, you’ll dance to my tune when I tell you. What do you think of that, hey?’