CHAPTER 4
THE CHAMBER OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS was in an uproar. Baron Grenville, a former foreign secretary, was on his feet and in full cry: "In fact I'm led to believe that this government has no idea— no idea—of the dire threat the kingdom now faces! Allow me, my noble lords, to attempt to arouse some measure of urgency in this supine Tory ministry."
Seated on the Woolsack before the empty throne, the lord chancellor frowned but made no move to intervene.
Grenville waited for the noise to lessen then pronounced, "I can now say for a certainty that Bonaparte no longer menaces Great Britain with invasion." Having the august chamber's full attention, he went on, "This is just so: the threats have now been withdrawn!" There was puzzled murmuring. Then he continued, with quiet venom, "My noble lords, the empty threats have gone, and in their place is the awful reality. From Dunkirk in the east to Granville in the west, in every French harbour and port opposite us, there are now being built hundreds—nay, thousands—of invasion craft whose only purpose is to throw one hundred and fifty thousand men on the English shore."
Lord Hobart fidgeted in his seat. As secretary of state for war in a beleaguered administration, his would be the task of replying to the unanswerable.
"This realm, at great cost to its treasure, has created and maintains a navy whose chief purpose is the safeguarding of our islands. We have a right to see it arrayed in all its might along our coasts, resolutely facing the enemy, as it has done so gloriously from long before." Grenville gestured at the wall panels, each of which depicted a scene of some heroic sea battle from England's long past.
He paused, then asked, "But where is it now? Apart from Lord Keith in the Downs it always seems to be away on some distant errand—dissipating its strength on some foreign adventure. It should be here, standing four-square before Bonaparte's hordes."
Turning sharply, he looked straight at Hobart. "I beg this House do remain attentive while the noble lord does enlighten us as to why we should not be terrified at this moment!"
Rising slowly, Hobart tried to marshal his thoughts. "My lords, er, there is—"
There was a stir at the door and the lord chancellor got to his feet. "The Earl St Vincent," he intoned.
A buzz of interest broke out. The bluff man in the splendid robes of a peer of the realm was Jervis. Honoured by his sovereign, he was a sea hero whose service dated back to before Nelson was born. It had been he who, in the year of the Great Mutiny, had led the fleet against the combined might of the French and Spanish to spectacular success. He now stood at the pinnacle of his sea profession as First Lord of the Admiralty and strategic head of the Navy, feared and respected.
His wintry eyes took in the excited peers as he paced slowly to the centre of the chamber. "My noble lords!" he said, in a voice that had in past days carried through winter gales. "I do not deny that we are faced with a determined and dangerous foe who is undoubtedly resolved on the conquest of Great Britain. You are right to be concerned, to question the power of the Royal Navy to withstand the tyrant."
He paused. "It is not in me to find you agreeable words of comfort—that is not my way. You ask me to assure you that Bonaparte will not prevail. That cannot be in my power to guarantee to you." In the utter silence Earl St Vincent added grimly, "This only am I sure upon: I do not say, my lords, that the French will not come. I say only they will not come by sea."
"Sir, "Teazer's number at the signal tower," Standish said, to the motionless figure on the quarterdeck. A ship's pennants hung out meant a summons for her captain to attend immediately upon the commander-in-chief. Standish tried to hide his curiosity.
"Aye," Kydd acknowledged dully. "Th' gig t' be alongside in fifteen minutes."
"Thank you, Flags. I'll ring when you're needed." Saumarez turned to Kydd, "Do sit, sir," he said formally. He picked up a paper from his desk and regarded Kydd gravely. "There are two matters that I wish to discuss, the first of which is causing me some distress. I think it fair to inform you that I have received a most unusual, that is to say disturbing, communication from the port admiral at Plymouth." He regarded Kydd steadily. "In it Admiral Lockwood has seen fit to disclose to me his views on your moral worth while serving in his command, which are not necessarily to your credit."
"Sir? This is—"
"The wording need not concern you, but it should be understood that I myself hold personal probity and the strictures of honour among gentlemen at the highest possible value, especially so in any of my commanding officers whose moral example will naturally be followed by those serving aboard his ship.
"Now, Mr Kydd, please know that I propose to decide for myself your fitness of character for the dignity of captain of your vessel, as is only right and proper. However, the nature of these views implies a moral transgression of some weight and I therefore do beg you to acquaint me now with the substance of—"
"I have naught t' regret," Kydd whispered, his face pale.
"Why, surely Admiral Lockwood did not—"
"He—There's nothing I've done f'r which I need be ashamed. Nothing!"
"It's very odd, then, that—"
"I swear!"
Saumarez leaned back, plainly mystified. He seemed to come to a conclusion and sat forward. "Er, very well, sir. Then I'm minded to take your word on it." He put down the paper firmly. "And therefore, unless I learn of something to the contrary, you shall hear no more of it.
"Now, may I know if you've been able to find a measure of companionship at the Mermaid's Club?"
"Thank you, sir, I have," Kydd said stiffly.
"Again, you do have my sincere condolences, Mr Kydd, and my wife wishes you to know that she perfectly understands your—"
"Sir."
"Yes, well, perhaps we shall move on to matters more of the moment." He reached across and rang the desk bell. "Ah, Flags. If we could have the Gulf of Avranches charts."
He turned to Kydd with a sombre expression. "You're no doubt aware of the preparations the Corsican tyrant is undertaking for his enterprise against England. I have this day received more news of these evil works, which must not be suffered to continue with impunity." Saumarez selected the large-scale chart and laid it on his desk. "I have not forgotten my pledge to make your command an active one, Mr Kydd, and now I have a mission for you."
He moved the chart round to face Kydd, tapping his finger at a point on the coast of Normandy, a bare forty leagues from England. "I wish you to look into Granville to discover a count of invasion craft and similar assembling there. Should your report warrant, I shall have no alternative but to contemplate action against them."
Granville was one of the few harbours of that iron-bound coast, lying to the south-east beyond the vast reef plateaus and vicious half-tide rocks and could only be approached at particular states of the tide. The harbour was in the lee of a long peninsula, an ancient town atop its length and long, enfolding stone piers providing capacious shelter below.
"I understand, sir."
"It will not be an easy task—the waters in approach are shallow and treacherous and the tidal streams prodigious. I believe that spring equinoctial ranges exceeding forty feet are often experienced there," he added, with a thin smile. "And you will discover Granville to be so situated that only the closest approach will answer."
"I'll do m' duty, sir."
"I'm sure you will, Mr Kydd." Saumarez said. "There may be others who may feel that their greater familiarity with these waters entitles them to this important task. I'm confident, however, that you will secure the intelligence without overly hazarding your ship or taking unnecessary risks, and it only remains for me to wish you good fortune."