Betrayal

Chapter 16

The outlines of a boat emerged from the early morning pearly mist. Two challenges rang out simultaneously from the lookouts in L’Aurore.

The triumphant reply roared back, ‘L’Aurore!’ indicating that this was no less than the anointed captain of their ship.

It brought every man and boy of the ship’s company on deck in a gleeful rush, with a disbelieving Gilbey. Then the boatswain importantly took position at the ship’s side with his silver call.

The gig hooked on and Kydd mounted the steps gravely, his dignity respected even when coming aboard in a filthy uniform without cocked hat or shoes. The side-party, however, was all grins: order had returned to their universe.

‘Pleased to be back, Mr Gilbey,’ Kydd replied, to the mumbled welcome. ‘Hands to unmoor ship, if you please.’

He acknowledged warm greetings from Curzon and Bowden and quickly left the deck for that unimaginably desirable heaven: his quarters. He opened the door to see Tysoe advancing with soap and towels, a fresh uniform on the side dresser.

Kydd stood for a moment with misted eyes, then croaked, ‘Not now, Tysoe – there’s something I have t’ do first.’ And in front of his appalled valet he reverently knelt down and kissed the deck.

Later, after they had got under way, there was time for breakfast with his officers in the gunroom. It was stout but meagre ship’s fare and he recalled, as if in a bad dream, that his last meal had been rancid blood sausage.

He heard of their interminable idleness at anchor, provisions and stores ransacked to be sent ashore, leaving them on woefully short rations and above all, as matters worsened, the complete absence of news.

He heard, too, how Clinton had sent Dodd away with false dispatches and was touched to find that the sergeant had loyally carried back his precious sword as well.

But there were so many faces missing from L’Aurore, good men who had volunteered for the Royal Blues and were now somewhere out in the bleak country ranges of South America. But what could he do for them?

Maldonado was raised a day later, the fleet left at just two sixty-fours and some transports in a loose moor. With the frigate Leda away, and the small brig-sloop Encounter a distant sail, it was no real deterrent if the Spanish Navy ever returned from the north.

Kydd forced the thought away – it was hardly Popham’s fault that the reinforcements had not arrived to swell the numbers, but after his treatment the last time they had spoken he found it difficult to summon a warm sympathy for the commodore.

At the flagship he was shown to the great cabin by the first lieutenant. Popham was sitting at a table by the window and raised his head at Kydd’s entrance. ‘I’d thought you to be taken at the fall of the city,’ he said distantly.

‘As I was, Dasher, but with the help of shipmates I got away.’ Kydd was shocked to see the effect of the last few weeks on the man: features ravaged by care, bloodshot eyes and a pall of weariness about his movements.

Popham stared for a long time out of Diadem’s stern window at the hurry of grey sea and the distant bleak coast. ‘I’m . . . sorry for what I said to you before, Kydd,’ he said, so softly that it was difficult to catch. ‘It was churlish of me. I can only plead an extremity of distraction.’

With a surge of feeling, Kydd came back, ‘It was a near enough thing, I’m thinking, and if it wasn’t for those blaggardly reinforcements . . .’

‘Yes, quite,’ Popham said bitterly. ‘I’ve pleaded and begged but still none.’

He pulled himself together visibly, and enquired, ‘We’re all on short commons as you’ve no doubt noticed – what’s the state of L’Aurore?’

‘In want of water, dry provisions to three weeks, but the barky in good fettle. And I suppose it must be said that, with more than a few in Spanish hands, we’ll last the longer.’ He paused then continued in a low voice, ‘I feel it hard, Dasher, that they’re still there while we sail away.’

‘Don’t be,’ Popham said, with something like his old fire. ‘I’m staying here. When those damned reinforcements finally come we’ll be in a position to retake Buenos Aires and then, in course, they’ll be freed.’

‘We’re mounting a second invasion?’

‘We are,’ Popham said shortly. ‘We’re on the spot, we’ve achieved so much with so few and, well, we know the way,’ he finished, his head drooping again.

Kydd was taken aback. The reinforcements might well be fewer in numbers than he supposed, and to go in again without overwhelming force would in any circumstances be a grave mistake.

‘Dasher, I’ve seen this Liniers. He’s stirred up the people with patriotism and high words and I’d wager they’d be much harder to beat this time.’

‘Do you take me for a poltroon? I’m not cutting and running! They’re for the most part an undisciplined rabble that will crumble before a determined thrust, take my word for it.’

‘We’ll still need to find many more ships and men than we can expect of the reinforcements, Dasher.’ Kydd paused. ‘Can we not make sure of it by calling for more from another station?’

Popham spoke slowly: ‘I’ve asked Governor Baird for more from Cape Town but St Helena won’t send another man.’

‘No, Dasher. I was thinking more of the Leeward Islands station. Ships-o’-the-line, troops, stores – all for us, if we can convince ’em of the value of rescuing this expedition.’

For a long moment Popham remained silent. Then he straightened painfully. ‘Umm. It is the nearest, I’ll grant you, but I’d hoped not to trouble them in matters concerning this expedition.’

At his words, Kydd realised that he must have refrained from such a move before for one very compelling reason: the far more senior commander-in-chief there would promptly take control of the whole enterprise, its profits and laurels. But higher things were at stake now.

Popham gave a sad smile. ‘However, I believe you to be in the right of things, Thomas. It would make it sure – and that’s what counts. I shall pen a letter immediately. I don’t suppose you’d object to the voyage?’

Kydd threw off his coat and eased into his favourite chair by L’Aurore’s stern windows, accepting Tysoe’s proffered toddy.

His friend waited impatiently. ‘So, what is to be our fate, dear fellow?’

Kydd finished his drink, then replied, ‘To sail to the Leeward Islands station to beg for reinforcements. We’re to clap on all sail and spare none.’

Renzi beamed. ‘The Caribbean! A little tropical sunshine would be a capital restorative.’

He looked intently at his friend. ‘And I’m put in mind of some illustrious adventures in the past on that refulgent main. Do you remember our dear Seaflower cutter?’

For a long space Kydd gazed out of the window – and then, for the first time in many weeks, a smile spread.