Inferno

Chapter 35

Captain Kydd’s officers’ invitation to join them for dinner had not been unexpected, and as he took his seat at the head of the table in the gunroom, he was not unaware of the silent presence of seamen and marine servants, agog for every word.

After the customary pleasantries he launched straight in: ‘I’m desolated to tell you that their lordships have not seen fit to inform me of their intentions. That is a fact. And so your views on what will be are as well to the point as any I might conjure.’

Surprisingly it was the sailing master, Joyce, who first spoke. ‘We’re not for Europe, that’s lost t’ us. No, gennelmen, there’s only one design worthy o’ this cloud o’ battleships an’ similar.’

A suspicious gunroom waited for him to continue.

‘Why, not islands in the Caribbee but the whole sea! It’s Spanish Florida, that’s where! You take Florida, you’re gate-keeper to the sugar islands as can’t be beat. I’ve a friend there, tells me them Indians and settlers can’t wait t’ be set free and would welcome we British and-’

‘I respectfully disagree,’ Dillon came in. The cabin turned to him in interest. ‘There’s only one thing of consequence that’s happened which warrants such a show of naval muscle.’

‘Tilsit?’

‘Just so. The treaty is a master-stroke of Bonaparte that sets Tsar Alexander’s face against his old ally. What we’re seeing is an assembly of might that’s to sail into the Baltic to check Russia’s ambitions and demonstrate that we’re still a force to be reckoned with.’

It was received with a murmur of respect, until a quiet but insistent voice intervened: ‘I’m not one to dispute strategics with a scholar, as we must say, but there’s a difficulty.’

‘Say on, Mr Brice,’ Kydd called encouragingly.

‘If we take a look from the deck, we don’t see a naval squadron as can fight a Ruskie fleet. There’s transports, bombs, frigates and sloops. And of ’em all, I say the transports are the tell-tale. They’ve soldiers aboard, and this can’t be but a landing. It has to be Hanover, the Austrian Netherlands, who knows? Anything to distract Mr Bonaparte.’

The following morning brought still more ships and a rare sight for Yarmouth: several columns of marching redcoats, the faint sounds of martial bands carrying out to the watching sailors, the heady thump of the drums suddenly ceasing when they reached the open spaces to the north.

Within a short time tent cities had been erected and the wisps of cooking fires arose. These soldiers would not board the gathering transports until the last minute to preserve victuals and water. Another column arrived from a different direction, this time led by a headquarters staff all a-glitter and mounted on black horses. Later, even more soldiers marched in, but by that time the novelty had worn off and Tyger continued with her routines.

Kydd saw no reason to go ashore and took the time to read his passage orders once again – really, a direct voyage to Gothenburg, and Tyger knew the way.

A knock at the door broke into his thoughts. It was the young master’s mate whom he’d seen mature so quickly in the striving and destruction of Tyger’s recent action.

‘Mr Maynard?’

‘Sir. I’ve been passed a note and, well, sir, it seems my brother is with the 52nd in camp ashore. He’s to sail with the expedition and desires he might see me before we leave. Sir, it would-’

‘Certainly you shall,’ Kydd replied. ‘Back aboard by gunfire, mind.’