Kydd sat back in astonishment. Not at what had been said, but that Dillon had found the moral courage to risk immediate condemnation for his impertinence.
“Why, that’s handsome in you, Mr Dillon,” he found himself saying. He paused. “Do you care for a sherry?’”
There was intelligence, practicality and discretion on offer but was this friendship? He was drawn to the young man-personable, educated and with a depth of feeling. He would never be a Renzi but …
There was less than ten years’ difference in their ages, but they were a world of experience apart. Could he ever bring himself to speak freely as a friend? If he did, like his administrative confidences, he knew it would be safe with Dillon.
There was an awkward moment, then Dillon said, “You know, when I secured my position in L’Aurore in the first place, I can tell you now, it was more than a lust for travel that was urging me on.”
“Oh?”
“A young lady, of importunate ways who unaccountably set her cap in my direction. I raised the siege only by the time-honoured device of running away to sea,” Dillon added, with an amused smile.
“Ha! It was ever so,” Kydd said.
“Then when L’Aurore was no more and I had to return, the siege was laid in earnest. Only your timely summons to Tyger saved me from a dolorous fate.”
“Are you then contented with your choice? Tyger is a very different barky from L’Aurore.”
Dillon nodded, and Kydd felt encouraged to open up to him, to tell him of the misreporting that had led to the Admiralty’s set against him, the dependence of a captain on favour and interest for employment, and the inevitable fate of those who ran athwart their lordships’ hawse.
And of the last sanction: that he and his ship distinguish themselves to such a degree that it would be impolitic to take his ship from him.
Dillon listened sympathetically. After Kydd had finished he gave a twisted smile. “Ah. I have it now. A pretty problem.”
They sipped their sherry. Then, in quite another voice, Dillon said, “It does occur to me … would you wish to learn backgammon?”
“To-”
“A relaxing and harmless pursuit but a sovereign cure for solitude.”
“Why, perhaps I shall.” It was a thoughtful and practical suggestion and would provide an excuse to meet companionably.
Dillon returned quickly with the hinged box that Kydd had so often seen in wardrooms. He set out the black and white pieces and handed Kydd a leather cup and two dice. “The idea is to go point to point to bear off all your stones before your opponent. These are the points and there is your home.”
There was more to follow and Kydd took it in gravely until they were ready to begin.
“Your throw.”
The pieces began their journey around the board.
“You think I’ve been too hard on the people,” Kydd said, in satisfaction seeing off one of Dillon’s stones to the bar to begin its trek again.
“I can’t but think you have been,” Dillon answered, positioning his pieces in a continuous mass.
“There’s no alternative-Tyger has to be ready to meet the enemy.”
“I fear you’ll lose them. Even if they knew of your difficulty they’d hardly feel it warranted to haze them so for that reason.”
The massing of pieces turned out to be an effective trap, holding Kydd until he could overcome it only by throwing a high number. He was learning.
“There’s no other way.”
“Then you’re at a stand. Press on this way and you’ve lost your crew. Ease away and the French might spring on us. Yet it does seem to me in my ignorance that the last is the least probable of the two.”
Two fours and he couldn’t move. Kydd yielded his turn. “So ease off on the beggars? What’ll they think we’ve been doing this last week? I can’t back down now.”
There was an opening-instead of moving both pieces he combined the numbers into a move by a single one and leaped ahead.
It was working: simply bringing it out and talking about it was sufficient to cut through the tangle of decision elements.
“A good one,” Dillon said, in admiration, but at the next throw sent two of Kydd’s stones to the bar.
Tyger’s captain was not put out-for in that instant he realised he knew what he had to do.
“Gentlemen,” Kydd said with a broad smile, looking about his table benignly. “Our last night before we make port on the morrow.”
His officers regarded him with expressions varying from suspicion to hostility but an invitation to dinner with the captain was not to be spurned.
“Wine with you all!” he declared, raising his glass.
There were scattered murmurs but nothing even approaching jollity. It was time to make his play. “To Tyger-in whom I am well pleased!”
A ripple of barely concealed surprise went around.
“Yes-we’ve worked hard, damned hard, and don’t think I haven’t noticed. The enemy may pounce at any time, but I now declare that Tyger is ready for ’em.”
Hollis glared balefully but Bowden’s face cleared. “Sir, you mean-”
“I do. The only sure way to reach a true fighting spirit is to pitch in, heart and soul, however hard it takes, until we’re of one company and mind, and now we are.”
Their expressions held incredulity and cynicism.
“So as of this hour we step down to regular sea routine, confident we can meet anything the Frenchies throw at us.”
It was getting across: pleased smiles broke through and a dawning respect replaced the hostility.
“I’ve driven you hard but I’ve no regrets-the results speak for themselves. So I call on you now to toast our tight little frigate. To Tyger, and long may she cleave the seas!”
“To Tyger!” This time there was real feeling in it.
“In the forenoon tomorrow before we arrive I’ll speak to the ship’s company and tell ’em the same thing. It’s been a tough claw to wind’d but we’ve made it!”
It was done.
The reality was that Tyger was far from ready, his words a mockery in his own ears, but now in his officers and later the crew there would be a morsel of pride, the beginnings of a belief in the ship and her captain.
But he was taking a risk by relaxing his efforts. He was gambling that, when the time came, Tyger would not let him down and would rise heroically to the challenge.
He’d done all he could. The rest was in the hands of Tyger and her company.
CHAPTER 15
YARMOUTH ROADS WAS ALIVE with shipping-from brigs to sizeable ship-rigged vessels. In a sprawling mass at the assembly anchorage, they were protected to seaward by naval sloops and cutters of the local defences.
Kydd had never experienced a Baltic convoy-they were legendary for their size: one had set forth with over a thousand sail. This assemblage was of some hundreds. The stirring sight was a paradox: a thrilling testimony to Britain’s trade supremacy and at the same time a frightening demonstration of vulnerability for an island nation.
A frigate and a number of sloops were in the naval anchorage, the escort for this argosy.
“Pennants of Lively, Cap’n Hozier,” Kydd was told.
The frigate was the same class as Tyger but the seniority of her captain was September 1802, and therefore predated Kydd’s. He would thus have the command and the responsibility, not only for the safe arrival of this immensely valuable convoy but the heavy burden of producing the complex orders and signals, procedures and assignments, and their transcription into hundreds of sailing-order instructions. It was a tedious and lengthy task but had serious legal and financial implications, for Lloyds Insurance would be relieved of payment against a loss if a transgression of their strict provisions could be shown.
In the absence of a flag officer there was no ceremony and Kydd put out in his gig for Lively while Tyger secured from sea.