Mutiny

_{Parker paused. His face could be seen looking about as if in amazement at the scene. Over on the Isle of Grain women jostled each other for the best view of the spectacle and men stood on the seafront with telescopes trained.}

_{The distant prisoner knelt for a few moments before a chaplain on the quarterdeck. When he arose his hands were bound and he passed down the length of the vessel to the fo'c'sle, then to the cathead under the fore yardarm.}

_{An interchange occurred; was Parker being allowed to speak? It seemed he was, and he turned aft to address his old shipmates. The provost marshal approached with the halter, which would be bent to the yard-rope, but there was some difficulty, and the presiding boatswain's mate was needed to secure the halter above. The provost marshal put a handkerchief into Parker's hands, and he stumbled up to the scaffold. The officer pulled a hood over Parker's head, then stepped down.}

_{Parker stood alone. A party of seamen was ranged down the deck with the yard-rope fall ready to pull. The signal to haul would be a fo'c'sle gun, their cue apparently Parker's handkerchief.}

_{In that endless moment Kydd struggled for control, the edge of madness very near.}

_{Without warning Parker jumped into space. Taken by surprise, the gun then fired, and the sailors ran away with the hanging rope, jerking Parker's body up. It contorted once, then hung stark. A handkerchief fluttered gently to the water.}

_{Kydd bit his lip. Even to the last Parker had thought of the seamen: he had effectively hanged himself to spare them the guilt.}

_{The next day five vessels at the Great Nore flew the Blue Peter; Triumph was one. The North Sea squadron would be whole again, and at sea.}

_{Of all the memories Sheerness would hold, there was one that shone like a beacon for Kydd. He secured an understanding permission to go ashore for a few hours before the ship sailed, and stepped out for the hulks.}

_{'Kitty, how do I find ye?' He hugged her close.}

_{'Come in, Tom, darlin',' she said, but her voice was tired, subdued.}

_{Kydd entered the familiar room and sat in the armchair. Kitty went to fetch him an ale. 'I'm master's mate in Triumph seventy-four,' he called to her. 'She's gettin' on in years but a good 'un - Cap'n Essington.'}

_{She didn't reply, but returned with his tankard. He looked at her while he drank. 'We're North Sea squadron,' he explained. 'C'n expect to fall back on Sheerness t' vittle 'n' repair, ye know.'}

_{'Yes, Tom,' she said, then unexpectedly kissed him before sitting down opposite.}

_{Kydd looked at her fondly. 'Kitty, I've been thinkin', maybe you 'n' me should—'}

_{'No, Tom.' She looked him in the eyes. 'I've been thinkin' too, m' love.' She looked away. 'I told ye I was fey, didn't I?'}

_{'V did, Kitty.'}

_{She leaned forward. 'Tom Kydd, in y'r stars it's sayin' that y're going t' be a great man — truly!'}

_{'Ah, I don' reckon on that kind o' thing, Kitty,' Kydd said, pink with embarrassment.}

_{'You will be, m' love, mark my words.' The light died in her eyes. 'An' when that day comes, you'll have a lady who'll be by y'r side an' part o' your world.'}

_{'Aye, but—'}

_{'Tom, y' know little of the female sex. Do y' think I'd want t' be there, among all them lords 'n' their ladies, knowin' they were giggling' behind y'r back at this jumped-up seamstress o' buntin'? Havin' the fat ol' ladies liftin' their noses 'cos I don't know manners? Have you all th' time apologisin' for your wife? No, dear Tom, I don' want that. 'Sides, I couldn't stand th' life - I'm free t' do what I want now.' She came over and held his hand. 'Next week, I'm leavin' Sheerness. What wi' Ned 'n' all, there's too many memories here. I'm off t' my father in Bristol.' 'Kitty, I'll write, let me—'}

_{'No, love. It's better t' say our goodbye now. I remember Ned once said, "A ship's like a woman. To think kindly of her, y' have t' leave her while y'r still in love." That's us, Tom.'}

_{Triumph put to sea, her destination in no doubt. She would be part of Admiral Duncan's vital North Sea squadron, there to prevent the powerful Dutch fleet emerging from the Texel anchorage. If they did — if the Channel was theirs for just hours — the French could at last begin the conquest of England.}

_{It was at some cost to ships and men: beating up and down the coast of Holland, the French-occupied Batavian Republic, was hard, dangerous work. The land was low and fringed with invisible sandbanks, a fearful danger for ships who had to keep in with the land, deep-sea ships whose keels brushed shoals while the Dutch vessels, designed with shallow draught, could sail down the coast and away.}

_{But it was also a priceless school for seamen. With prevailing winds in the west, the coast was a perpetual lee shore threatening shipwreck to any caught close in by stormy winds. And as the warm airs of summer were replaced by the cool blusters of autumn and the chill hammering of early winter, it needed all the seamanship the Royal Navy had at its command to stay on station off the Texel.}

_{Kydd hardened, as much as by conflicts within as by the ceaseless work of keeping the seas. The mutiny of two months ago was now receding into the past, but he had still not put it truly behind him.}

_{He accepted the precious gift of reprieve, however achieved: life itself. But so many had paid the price: the gentle Coxall, the fiery Hulme, the fine seaman Davis, Joe Fearon, Charles McCarthy, Famall, others. The Inflexibles, led by Blake, had stolen a fishing-smack and gone to an unknown fate in France.}

_{It could have been worse: vengeance had been tempered, and of the ten thousand men involved, only four hundred had faced a court, and less than thirty had met their end at a yardarm.}

_{To say farewell to Kitty had brought pain and loneliness, and with Renzi about to return to his previous life, there was now not a soul he could say was truly his friend, someone who would know him, forgive his oddities as he would theirs in the human transactions that were friendship.}

_{His reticence about speaking of recent events had stifled social conversation, and a burning need to be hard on himself had extended to others, further isolating him. He withdrew into himself, his spirit shrivelling.}

_{Days, weeks, months, the same ships that had been in open mutiny were now at sea so continuously that the first symptoms of scurvy appeared. Sails frayed, ropes stranded, timbers failed, and still they remained on station. By October signals from the flagship showed that even the doughty Duncan was prepared to return to Yarmouth to revictual and repair.}

_{The storm-battered fleet anchored, but there would be no rest. Duncan had said, 'I shall not set foot out of my ship . .-.'It would be a foolhardy captain indeed who found he had business ashore. Storing ship, caulking gaping seams, bending on winter canvas — there was no rest for any.}

_{Then, early one morning in the teeth of a northwesterly blow, the Black Joke, an armed lugger, appeared from out of the sea fret to seaward of Yarmouth sands. Signal flags whipped furiously to leeward; a small gun cracked out to give emphasis to them, the smoke snatched away in the stiff wind. 'Glory be!' said Triumph's officer-of-the-watch peering through his telescope. 'An' I do believe the Dutch are out!'}

_{By noon the North Sea squadron had secured for sea, and without a minute lost, Duncan's fleet put out into the white-streaked waters under a dark, brooding sky with every piece of canvas that could draw set on straining spars.}

_{The wind, however, was astern; the fleet streamed towards Holland in an exhilarating and terrifying charge. The next day they raised land, the Texel, the ancient home of the Dutch fleet, low, sprawling and foreboding under grey skies.}

_{The Dutch were not there, but Duncan's scouts were. Their dogged tracking of the enemy fleet enabled them to inform Duncan that indeed the Dutch were at sea -and heading southwards. The British fleet wheeled to follow, keeping the shore in sight under their lee all the time. Now at last there was a chance that the enemy could be brought to bay.}

_{If they caught up, then without doubt there would be a major battle, a formal clash of fleets that would enter history. The stakes could hardly be higher: if they lost the day then the way would be clear for enemy troops to make a landing on the shores of England.}

_{It would be Kydd's first major fleet action. He almost looked forward to the fight: a purging by combat of all the devils that haunted his soul.}

_{But would ex-mutineers fight? Under Lieutenant Monckton, Kydd was in charge of the centre main-deck twenty-four-pounders, and to his certain knowledge there were five in the gun-crews he had seen parading under the red flag, including both quarter-gunners.}

_{At nightfall hopes faded. They had not overhauled the enemy — they could be anywhere, or have changed course to the north and open sea. The fleet shortened sail for the night, standing off the coast.}

_{Dawn came with driving rain, clearing to blustery squalls that sent men aloft to take in sail. While they were fisting the wet canvas Circe frigate hove in sight, a signal hoist and a gun to leeward bringing every man on deck.}

_{Kydd hastened to the quarterdeck to hear developments. The signal lieutenant had his glass up, his midshipman beside him with the signal book. 'Enemy in sight, sir!' he said, following the frigate. 'Three leagues to the sou'-east'}

_{The news spread, and from all parts of the ship roars of satisfaction and ribaldry arose, but Captain Essington waited grimly.}

_{'Enemy course north, sir.'}

_{'Ah! That's what I want to hear. They've heard we're at sea and are turned back for home. How far from the Texel?'}

_{'Er, the town yonder must be Kamperduin, so that makes the Texel fifteen miles distant, sir.'}

_{'Umm. De Winter has to form up. If we can bring him to action before noon, we have a chance.' The quarterdeck became animated, high spirits breaking through, but Essington did not join in. 'Do you bear in mind, gentlemen, the Dutch are an old and proud race. They have bested us once before in the last age, and we can be sure they will consult their honour again today. Their admiral is of the first rank, and their ships are not worn by stress of weather. They are of equal numbers and they are fighting for their hearth and home in their own seas. Today will be hard-won for the victor. Enough talk! Clear for action, if you please.'}

_{The boatswain piped the order and the ship was plunged into instant activity. The boatswain's party went to the tops. Their task was to sway up and rig chain slings to restrain hundred-foot yards from plunging down if their the blocks were shot away, with quarter slings on the lower yards.}

_{Along the decks topsail sheets were stoppered properly, preventer braces led along and a netting spread between main and mizzen to catch wreckage falling from above.}

_{The galley fire was put out, its cinders placed in tubs amidships ready for scattering over pooling blood, and hammocks were hoisted into the tops to form protective barricades against enemy sharp-shooters.}

_{Below, in the gloomy orlop, the surgeon and his mates readied the cockpit for who could guess how many men who would be carried in agony and fear below.}

_{Kydd had little time to think about an unknown future. His quarters were the big twenty-four-pounders along the main deck, and specifically those aft of centre. Standing near the main-hatch gratings he watched his gun captains make ready their pieces: the implements of gunnery — the handspike, sponge, crow — could be relied on to be in place; what was more important were the details.}

_{He knew what to look for: the match tubs next to each gun for use in case of misfire would be useless without slow-burning match ready alight and drawing. The gunners' pouch of each gun-captain must contain tools and spare flints for the gunlock, and quill ignition tubes checked that the tallow cap had been removed.}

_{The sound of a grindstone came from forward: pikes, cutlasses and tomahawks were getting a fine edge. A cook's mate carried a scuttled butt of water to place on the centreline for thirsty gun-crews. It was well spiked with vinegar to slow their drinking.}

_{Activity slowed, the ship was cleared fore and aft. It now only required the enemy to appear and the ship would beat to quarters. During the wait, biscuit and cheese were issued, and a double tot of rum to all hands. It was nearly time ...}

_{The enemy fleet was sighted at nine, sail upon sail startlingly pale against the dark grey clouds, occupying half the horizon. Beyond lay the flat terrain of Holland. Men came up from the gundeck to catch a glimpse of the enemy; once in action they would not see them again until they closed and grappled.}

_{At half past, de Winter formed his line of battle. On the quarterdeck Kydd heard the officers' conversation: the taut enemy line was heading to the north - the Dutch, still apparently hoping to reach safe harbour, were sailing close to the land.}

_{Duncan's strategy was simple: braving the massed broadsides of the enemy he would without delay throw his fleet at their line in two groups, one to larboard under himself to take the Dutch van, the other to starboard under his vice admiral, Onslow, to fall on their rear. Triumph would go with Duncan.}

_{More signal flags soared up on the flagship, but Kydd never found out what they were for the urgent thunder of a drum sent the ship to quarters.}

_{With an iron resolution, he clattered down the main hatchway past the marine drummer madly rattling out 'Hearts of Oak'. Of one thing he was certain: he would do his duty to the limit.}

_{Touching his hat to Monckton, he verified the presence of the young midshipman and three men standing by the centreline grating, then turned his attention to the guns. If they fought both sides at once they would be short-handed; some gun numbers would have to cross the deck to work the opposite gun.}

_{He stepped up on the grating while the wash-deck hose swashed across the deck. A seaman followed, scattering sand to give grip to the feet. Powder monkeys brought up the first cartridges in their long wooden salt boxes, and he watched as the quarter-gunner settled ear-pads on the young lads. Gun-crews made do with their bandannas, tying them tightly round their heads.}

_{Kydd took his broad cross-belt, settling it to take the weight of his cutlass, which, as a boarder, he would wear for the rest of the battle. When the order came, he would seize a brace of pistols from the arms-chest and lead the second wave of boarders.}

_{He paced slowly along, checking and rechecking: the middle of a battle was not a good time to be finding missing spares. Tucked in along the sides of the main-hatch, beside the ready-use shot lining it, were ranged spare breeching, complete training tackles, gun lashings, all becketted up neatly.}

_{As he walked, he saw the gun-crews looking at him, eyes flashing. They would be forced to stand idle for all of the time it took to reach the enemy, their own guns unable to bear, while the Dutch could concentrate their whole fire unopposed. After their line was reached it would be another story: as they passed through they would blast a storm of balls down the length of an enemy ship from each side.}

_{But first they had to reach them. Triumph was as ready as forethought and devotion to the sea crafts could make her. Now the fortune of war and the courage of her men would decide the day.}

_{The enemy began to fire just after midday, the thunder of their guns loud on the inactive gundeck. Kydd joined the gun-crews leaning out of their ports to see. The whole line of the enemy ahead was nearly obscured in gunsmoke, the sea between torn by shot. To starboard}

_{Vice Admiral Onslow's division was diverging, his flagship, Monarch, in the lead of a straggling group. Duncan must be anxious to start the fight, thought Kydd, that he did not form line of battle.}

_{He crossed to the other side of the deck. As he did the first cannon strikes thudded home. These were longer-range shots and taken on the ricochet: closer in they would crush and splinter. Out of the gunports Kydd saw their own flagship, Duncan's Venerable, streaming out ahead, her blue ensign defiantly aloft, others coming up on her flank.}

_{The sea hissed past a few feet below. They were running large, direcdy to leeward in the stiff wind — their time to fight would not be long delayed. Kydd pulled himself inboard. A sudden crash sounded somewhere forward. Something hissed past him, striking a deck beam then angling down to a gun, which it hit with a musical clang.}

_{Then came the welcome smash of their own carronades on the deck above. Kydd dared a quick last look out of a port and saw, in a single flash ahead, Venerable bearing down on the big Dutch flagship, and at the same time the Dutch next astern courageously closing the gap to prevent Venerable passing through and breaking the line.}

_{He pulled in and took post, conscious that his duty was to make sure Lieutenant Monckton's orders were carried out — whatever the circumstances.}

_{'Point your guns!' The enemy were very near now. Gun-captains scrambled to sight down their pieces, signalling for handspikes to muscle the heavy guns round to train on target, then tracking it, waiting with gun lanyard extended for the word to fire.}

_{So close. Smashing strikes and cries of injured men were general now, the moments seeming to last for ever. But then it died away and the sea outside shadowed suddenly. It was the enemy line.}

_{'Fire!' came the order. In a rippled broadside from forward the twenty-four-pounders crashed out in a vengeful smash straight at the unprotected stern of the unknown Dutch ship — thirty-seven heavy iron balls at point-blank velocity in a merciless splintering path of destruction right down the length of the ship. The noise was overwhelming, going on and on as they passed through.}

_{Kydd bent his knees to see. Through the smoke he caught sight of an ornate stern gallery riven into gap-toothed ugliness. Wreckage rained down and turned the sea white with splashes. He wheeled round, still bent, and briefly glimpsed, through the opposite side, the tangled bowsprit of another ship.}

_{Crews flung themselves at their guns: sponging, the lethal grey cartridge and wad, then the deadly iron ball. Kydd felt the deck sway over to starboard and realised they must be coming round to lock into their opponent. He yelled hoarsely at the crews: doubling the rate of fire was as good as doubling the number of guns, and once around they would be facing an equal broadside from their opponent.}

_{It came early, before they were fully round — and at ten-yards range the effect was lethal. The iron shot tore through the sides of Triumph, the balls rampaging the whole width of the gundeck before smashing through the far side, tearing and shattering. The deck trembled as more balls struck below.}

_{Monckton raised his speaking trumpet and was thrown violendy along the deck. He did not move. Kydd ran to his body: there was no mark on it, but a red rash was spreading on the side of his face. He put his hand inside the officer's coat and felt for the heart it still beat.}

_{'Bear a hand!' he roared at the men hovering around. They dragged Monckton to the centreline gratings and laid him out on his back. He had been knocked unconscious by the close passage of a round-shot. If he recovered he would want to be at his post, but for now Kydd must perform his duty.}

_{A midshipman arrived from forward, wide-eyed, his hand convulsively gripping the hilt of his dirk. 'Get back to y'r post,' Kydd told him. 'Orders are th' same.'}

_{Kydd turned to the gun-crews. There was no need for interference: the men worked like demons, their gun-captains throwing a glance his way, then getting on with it.}

_{A messenger raced down from the quarterdeck and skidded to a stop at the sight of Monckton's body. Kydd stepped up. 'I'm in charge. What's y'r message?' The order was clear: each gun was to fire alternately at maximum depression or elevation. This would send their shot down to the enemy's keel or up through her unprotected decks, a terrifying ordeal for an opponent. Kydd ran along the guns, tasking off the gun-captains.}

_{The hull of the enemy ship loomed through the gunports in the thinning smoke; dull black, with signs of cannon strike everywhere and jerking activity at her gunports. Their own guns crashed out Triumph's gun-crews worked savagely, needing no goading. Smoke swirled thickly back into the gundeck, obscuring everything. A mounting warrior's bloodlust set Kydd's heart aflame for victory.}

_{There was no pretence at aiming: fire was general. 'Double shotting!' Kydd bellowed. As the two balls diverged at the muzzle, aim would be affected but the damage would be broadened and doubled. 'Smash it in 'em, lads!' he bawled. Yet in the wildness of the battle Kydd felt a serenity, the calm of a dedicated ferocity that he knew would take him through anything.}

_{High screams close by — a young powder monkey with his lower body soaked in blood, pulling himself helplessly away on his elbows. Kydd motioned to an opposite gun-crew to carry the lad below.}

_{A wrecked gun, its barrel askew and carriage in pieces, its crew in a moaning, bloody heap, was being cleared of its dead, tumbled out of the gunport to the sea below.}

_{Then, unbelievably, a messenger appeared, shrilling urgently, 'Cease firing!' The crews, working like automatons, checked their fire and subsided into a trembling stillness. Kydd ran to the side and looked out. Roiling gunsmoke still hid much of the enemy, but there was an unnatural quiet aboard their adversary. Confused shouting from behind caused Kydd to turn round — but then came cheering, and maniac roars of jubilation. The enemy had struck!}

_{It was ironic, thought Renzi, that when he had been reassigned to another ship at the last minute it had been this one, Tenacious, and within weeks of his final retirement from the sea he was headed into his second major fleet action in a year.}

_{He knew Kydd had been shipped in Triumph, and there she was, the other side of Duncan's Venerable. He hoped that the lottery of war would spare his friend, whom he had not seen since their farewell in Sheerness — but this was going to be no stately fight against unwilling Spanish allies.}

_{The Dutch were rightly proud of their maritime past, yet at the same time would be fearing the submergence of their national identity following their defeat and occupation by the French. If they could rise victorious over a field of war on their own, this would be preserved. It would be a sanguinary conflict indeed.}

_{Renzi's post was at the quarterdeck nine-pounder battery. He would see what was developing, a mercy compared to the hell of a gundeck below, but he would be a target for enemy musketry. At least if he survived he could retire to the estate with as unique a claim to fame as any in the county set, he mused.}

_{The enemy opened fire. It would be a hard thing to achieve, a breaking of the line, but Venerable led the division nobly, her signal for close action seemingly nailed in place. The fire got hotter. A ball slammed through a file of marines and left bloody corpses in its wake. Twice Renzi staggered at the vicious slap of wind from a near miss.}

_{He forced his mind to float free, calmly observing his actions and freeing his thoughts of a vortex of anxiety — it was the only rational course.}

_{Venerable was close to starboard, clearly heading for the enemy flagship. Tenacious kept faithful station on her, and when they were closer Renzi could see she was going round the stern of de Winter's ship to deliver a crushing, raking fire - but her next astern bravely closed the gap and Venerable had to bear away to round her instead.}

_{Tenacious, a humble 64, found herself alone in taking on the big Dutch flagship. As she swung to bring her own broadside to bear, the space between the two filled with acrid powder smoke and a devastating storm of shot. The enemy were not, like the French, aiming for rigging and spars to disable the ship. Instead they were smashing their shot home directly into the hull of their opponent in a brutal prize-fight.}

_{There were no broadsides now: both ships at less than a hundred yards' range pounded to the limits of endurance. The air was torn by the whir of chain-shot, the heavy slam of thirty-two-pound balls, the vicious wasp-like hum of bullets - the whole against the continuous noise of guns and shattered timbers and the dry reek of gunpowder smoke.}

_{Men struck by balls were blown into pieces like sides of beef in a butcher's shop or were disembowelled in an instant; those hit by splinters shrieked in agony as they were skewered. Renzi saw a midshipman, then the signal lieutenant drop in their tracks, and over at a disabled nine-pounder a corpse exuded blood that made tracks on the deck as the ship rolled and heaved.}

_{The captain dropped to his knees with a bloody graze on his head, then crumpled to the deck; a midshipman started weeping, the pain from a crushed foot overcoming his young attempt at bravery. Renzi paced along the deck, watching his nine-pounder crews throwing everything into a frenzied cycle of violence, and ferociously excluded the logical probability that his own survival was in doubt.}

_{He turned, and started to pace back the other side. Something like a horse's kick from behind threw one of his legs from under him. He fell to the deck. There was no immediate pain, and he scrabbled about trying to locate the source of a growing numbness, then noted spreading blood on the scrubbed deck. He sat up, trying to rise, but then the hot pain began and he flopped down again.}

_{'Get yez below, mate,' said an out-of-breath gun captain, who lifted his arms. In shock, Renzi fell back while another took his feet in an awkward carry-and-drag to the blood-smeared hatchway. They bumped him down the ladder and staggered round to lower him down the next.}

_{On the orlop it was a scene from hell. The entire deck was carpeted in wounded, an operating table contrived from midshipmen's chests in the centre. But the surgeon was not there: he with his lob-lolly boys could only move about the stream of wounded, as they came down, trying their best to ease their suffering.}

_{Renzi was placed on an old piece of canvas, which was rapidly soaked with blood from his wound. He lay light-headed in the infernal gloom, listening to groans and cries. But there were also cheers of encouragement and bravery from some of those who would soon face the knife and saw. The back of his leg throbbed with increasing pain and he wondered abstractly if he would lose it.}

_{A lanthorn bobbed nearer. It was the surgeon and his helper. In the navy way men were seen in the strict order they were carried below, no matter the severity of their wounds. Renzi waited for his turn, hearing the noise and shaking of the gundeck in action above.}

_{The surgeon in his black smock, stiff with bloodstains, turned to him. His eyes were glazed. 'Where is the wound, if you please?' he said, kneeling beside Renzi.}

_{Renzi tried to turn over but could not. The two lob-lolly boys - older men no longer suitable for work on deck — rotated him. He felt the surgeon's hands rip away clothing and tensed for the knife, but after a pause and cursory poke the surgeon straightened. 'You're lucky, my man. Superficial tissue loss but we'll need to staunch the blood.' He probed the area. Renzi could feel the man's breath around the wound. 'Yes, fit for duty in weeks. You know what to do,' he told the lob-lollies; then he was gone.}

_{The excruciating pain of a vinegar solution on the raw flesh brought tears to his eyes, but relief was unfolding in a tide of emotion — he would not suffer under the saw. A dressing, a tourniquet; additional pain came from the biting cord. Then the indignity of being dragged to a further corner to recover — or die.}

_{Somewhere outside the battle's fury continued; the fabric of Tenacious shuddered with savage blows. On deck it would be chaos, but the cruel logic of war meant that duty must be done and the battle fought irrespective of the hideous scenes.}

_{Renzi rolled to his side in discomfort. Then he noticed the glint of gold lace being carried down the hatchway. It was the first lieutenant, his head lolling ominously to one side. The quarterdeck was being cleared fast.}

_{Possession of their prize — Wassenaar— released Triumph for hotter work. Passing Venerable and Tenacious she rounded into the enemy line again, laying herself bow to bow with a yellow-sided man-o'-war.}

_{Her guns opened again with a thunderous broadside, which was answered with equal venom by their opponent - but having practised over long weeks at sea the English guns spoke faster and truer. Kydd, below, drove on his men with bellows of encouragement as the side of their opponent bulked just yards away.}

_{But Triumph was coming under fire from another quarter. A previously untouched Dutch ship had approached and opened up on her opposite side. Kydd was taken by surprise at the sudden irruption of cannon fire — but almost immediately the sea was lit by a flash, and a sullen boom rolled over the waves.}

_{The enemy fire slackened and stopped. A ruddy glow tinged the sea. Fire! Kydd stooped to look out, and saw, only a few hundred yards off, the attacking warship lit by a spreading blaze near the base of the mainmast. Something must have touched off powder on deck, and if the flames reached tarred rigging and sails she would turn into a fire-ship, a danger to friend and foe on the crowded sea.}

_{Kydd turned back to his task and saw that the yellow-streaked ship's angle away had changed and, after another exchange of fire, she could be seen gathering way: she was fleeing! Triumph continued on to wear round; it was clear she was keeping away from the burning ship and falling back to support the hard-pressed Venerable. Kydd set about clearing away and squaring up.}

_{In the lull a midshipman messenger hurried down the ladder to Kydd. 'Captain desires your report, if y' please.'}

_{Kydd tried to keep his mind calm as he emerged on deck. Triumph was cut about grievously, wreckage strewn about, ropes trailing from aloft, blood smears on the deck. This was his first sight of the open battlefield. While he hurried aft, his eyes took in the vastness of the scene: ships in every direction at every angle, boats in the water, cannon splashes around ships still under fire, an immense pall of smoke over the whole area.}

_{'You, er, Kydd?' The captain was obviously in pain, his arm in an improvised sling, his face blackened and red.}

_'Sir.'

_{'Lieutenant Monckton?'}

_{'Regret he's still unconscious, sir. I have him on th' gratings 'midships so if he comes to . ..' 'Quite right. And the guns?'}

_{'Number seven larb'd dismounted, number nine larb'd has a blown vent bushing. Lost a truck off number six stb'd, but the crew is managin'. Er, we lost six men on number seven, an' there's a total of — let me see - thirteen been taken below.' Kydd added, 'We c'n still give ye a full broadside less two t' larb'd, an' all to starb'd, but could be pressed t' fight both sides. But, sir, we're in fine spirits, don't worry of us.'}

_{Captain Essington nodded slowly, looking closely at Kydd.}

_{'Sir, may I know — f'r the others — how's the day?'}

_{Essington smiled grimly. 'You see there,' he pointed to the south, 'the starb'd division has taken all five of their opponents and are bearing up to join us. And there,' he indicated the ships they were steering for locked together in the throes of combat, 'that is their flagship, and she has lost all her masts, and fights three of our ships. I rather fancy she will strike soon — and the day will then be won.'}

_{Kydd touched his hat and went below. Monckton was still unconscious, breathing heavily, so Kydd tried to make him comfortable and turned back to the task of clearing away the debris of battle.}

_{A swelling roar of cheers sounded on deck followed by a shout at the ladderway: 'She's struck! The Dutchy admiral threw it in!' The cheers were instandy taken up on the gundeck by Kydd's men, smoke-grimed, bloody, but victorious - and in that moment all the emotional tensions of recent events melted away for Kydd. He punched the air with rediscovered pride.}

_{The deck heeled once more, staying at an angle. They were wearing round to the north again, seeking new opponents. Kydd leaned from a gunport two or three vessels could be seen away to the north, but the guns of all those nearer were silent. The background rumble and thunder of heavy guns was no longer there.}

_{The battle was over.}

_{It was hard, having to work at the pumps, repair the shot-torn rigging, and sluice the decks of blood smears and endless smoke-stains without the urgency of batde. But it was very necessary, for if the Dutch had any reinforcements they might descend on the weary, battered English and quickly reverse the verdict of the day.}

_{Lines of batde dissolved. Beaten ships, now the prizes of war, bent on sail and set course for England while the men-o'-war lay together, working repairs for the voyage home.}

_{'Mr Kydd - passing the word for Mr Kydd!' He looked up. T' attend the captain,' the messenger said importandy, 'in his quarters.'}

_{Monckton was recovering in his cabin, the guns had spoken faithfully. He should not have any cause for worry.}

_{The captain's door was open, a stream of people entering and leaving while he and his clerk sat behind a desk of papers.}

_{'Kydd, sir?'}

_{A flustered, battle-worn Essington looked up briefly. The redness in his face had turned to a bruising, and he had not yet changed his clothes. 'Go to Monarch, they're expecting you.'}

_'Sir?'

_{'Now, if you please, sir,' said Essington irritably.}

_{'Aye aye, sir,' Kydd said hastily, wondering what his mission could be.}

_{The boat joined others criss-crossing between other ships. Close to he could see that the sea was speckled with pieces of wreckage, some as big as spars, some smaller unidentifiable fragments. His eyes lifted to the loose cluster of men-o'-war ahead, every one showing where they had endured.}

_{Monarch was the flagship of Onslow, vice admiral of the other division. Kydd went up the pockmarked side of the big 74 and, touching his hat, reported.}

_{The officer looked at him curiously. 'Come with me.' He was escorted to the admiral's Great Cabin. 'Mr Kydd, master's mate, Triumph, sir.'}

_{Onslow put down his pen and came round his desk. The splendid blue and gold, the stars and epaulettes — all the grandeur of naval circumstance — brought to Kydd a surge of guilt and apprehension.}

_{'Ah, Mr Kydd.' He looked appraisingly at Kydd, who stuttered something about his tattered, smoke-grimed appearance. 'Nonsense, my boy. All in th' line of duty. Well, now, you must be feelin' proud enough that your captain speaks s' highly of ye.'}

_{'Sir?' To his knowledge there was no reason that Essington could have even to mention his existence to such an august being.}

_{Onslow's eyebrows rose. 'You don't know why ye're here?' He chuckled quiedy. 'Then I'll tell you. Since Admiral Duncan is entertainin' the Dutch admiral, he's left certain jobs to me. An' one of 'em is this. In the course o' such a day, sadly there's some ships have suffered more than others. Your captain was one o' those asked to spare a suitable man t' fill vacancies in these. He seems t' think you're suitable, so by the powers vested in me by the flag-officer-in-command, I order that, as of this moment, ye're to be known as Lieutenant Kydd.'}

_{'S-sir, I -1—'}

_{It was staggering — it was marvellous! It was frightening! It was—}

_{'Unusual name, that — Kydd. Don' come from Guildford, b' any chance?'}

_{'Sir—' He couldn't speak. Feeling his face redden with pleasure, the broadest of smiles bursting out, he finally spluttered, 'Aye, sir.'}

_{'Related t' the Kydds who opened the navy school not so long past?'}

_{'M-my father, sir,' he said, in a near delirium of emotion.}

_{'A fine school f'r Guildford. Like t' pay my respects to y'r father at some time.'}

_{Speechless, Kydd accepted the precious letter of commission and turned to go.}

_{'And, Lieutenant, might I have the honour of takin' your hand? It gives me a rare pleasure to know that Guildford can still produce fightin' seamen. Ah — do ye not wish t' know which ship?'}

_{'Sir?' Any ship that swam would do.}

_{'Tenacious sixty-four. Good fortune to ye, Mr Kydd.'}

_{His heart full, Kydd tried to concentrate in the boat on its way to the battle-worn Tenacious. But he was a lieutenant! An officer! A — gentleman! His universe spun as he attempted to readjust his world-view; stricdy, his father should touch his forelock to him, his mother curtsy when introduced — and what would they say in Guildford?}

_{But what about Renzi, supposing they ever met again? Would he accept him as a gentleman? Would they . . .}

_{His sea-bag and chest lay between his legs. When he had returned to Triumph to fetch them, Essington had cut short his thanks. 'We were signalled for a suitable man. Do you wish to dispute my choice, sir? I know something of your history. Pray you will live up to your step — and the best of luck, Mr Kydd.'}

_{This was absolute evidence for Kydd that the Admiralty held nothing against him over his support for the seamen; there could be no doubt now, no more feelings of guilt, betrayal or ambivalence. Now he was a naval officer, with all the rights and privileges. It was altogether incredible.}

_{Tenacious loomed. 'Boat ahoy!' came the distant cry.}

_{'Aye aye!' their bowman roared. Kydd started — but then, of course, be was the naval officer they carried! A long sigh came from the depths of his being.}

_{The boat hooked on, and Kydd sprang for the handropes. Impatiently he mounted the side, passing by an open-mouthed boatswain's mate at the entry-port. Embarrassed, he retraced his steps down and across to the entry-port. He entered the carved portal, the silver call pealing out to all concerned that a naval officer was boarding Tenacious.}

_{'Sway aboard my dunnage, younker,' he told a duty midshipman.}

_{'Aye,' the youngster said.}

_{'What was that?' Kydd snapped.}

_{'Er, aye aye, sir,' the midshipman corrected himself, stiffening and touching his hat.}

_{'Very well.' Kydd remembered too late that he still wore his master's mate plain coat, and grinned at the discomfited lad. There would be time to find a uniform later. 'Where's the captain?' he asked.}

_{'Dead,' the boy said. 'So's the first and third lootenant. We're getting replacements, o' course,' he confided, then added a hasty, 'er, sir.'}

_{Kydd went up the main hatchway to the upper deck, marvelling at the ruin on all sides. There were overturned guns, beaten-in bulwarks, broken spars hanging from aloft - and a tattered figure hobbling about, using a broken rammer as a makeshift crutch.}

_{He stopped, staring keenly. It was - it couldn't be -Renzi? 'Nicholas! You're - you're wounded!'}

_{'I fear so, old fellow. It is but an inconvenience, the doctor assures me that I shall be made whole in some weeks.' A warm smile stole over his face. 'Thomas! You have survived our day of trial!' He held out his hand. Kydd gripped it, the events of the day threatening to unman him.}

_{The midshipman appeared. 'Shall I stow your gear in the third's cabin for now, sir?' 'Please.'}

_{He turned back to Renzi, but the cat was out of the bag. 'You — you have been—'}

_{'I have,' said Kydd, in the purest happiness. 'Ye have t' call me sir, now, Nicholas.'}

_{'Oh. I'm afraid that's not possible.'}

_{'Er, may I know why not?'}

_{Renzi looked down for a moment, and when he looked up again, Kydd could see he was struggling for control. 'Because, Thomas, you will be grieved to hear that as senior master's mate, I also have been elevated to the quarterdeck. And, given recent promotions, you will be fifth, and I the fourth, so it will be you who are obliged to render the honorifics to me.'}

_{Their heartfelt laughter brought grins from the others on deck.}

_{Kydd had just one question. 'Nicholas, does this mean that - y'r intent, you know, t' leave the sea . .. ?'}

_{A half-smile showed briefly. 'It rather appears, dear fellow, that I may have to revisit that decision ...'}

Author's Note

_{Some people have asked me how much my books are based on my own life. In a way how could they be? The protagonist and I are separated by two hundred years and a revolution in technology, and I chose the sea while he had little choice; but as I got into the series I realised that Tom Kydd and I do share much.}

_{We both deeply relate to the sea's magic, its potency and vast majesty, and both of us feel a clutch at the heart at the sensation of a live deck beneath, with all its promise of adventure and excitement. That first deep scend of the bows outward bound — the 'curtsy to Neptune' every ship must make on entering His realm. The contraction of your world into the ship's comforting, never-changing rhythms — so different to life ashore with all its distractions.}

_{In the course of this book I revisited Sheerness, the bleak setting of this most awesome of mutinies. As I looked out over the cold, drab wilderness of the Nore one particularly raw winter's day, seeing back into time to those great events, into my mind, too, came remembrance of myself as a very small boy looking out from that very spot to low, grey shapes slipping out to sea, disappearing over the horizon and taking my imagination with them. You can still walk out at low tide over the mud-flats and find clay pipes of Kydd's time, but he had quite a different experience — this was where he first set foot on the deck of a man-o'-war, and met his future.}

_{As ever, this tale has materially benefited from the time and kindness of people at the various locations I researched; I think particularly of Lorna Swift, at the Garrison Library of Gibraltar (which still exists) who found for me priceless documents of the time; Admiral Lorenzo Sferra, Conservator of the Naval museum at the Arsenale in Venice who at short notice deployed the full resources of his museum for me; and David Hughes, a local historian in Sheerness who was able to reveal to me fascinating hidden facts and colour of this underrated part of the naval history of England. To the many others I consulted, my deep thanks.}

_{I'm blessed with a knowing and professional literary agent, Carole Blake, and Carolyn Mays, my new editor at Hodder, heads an enthusiastic and hard-working team that is bringing the world of Thomas Kydd to life for so many.}

_{As each book is finally launched on the world it only increases my respect and admiration for my creative partner and wife, Kathy, who was originally responsible for my embarking on the voyage of my life. And it is certainly time I acknowledge my parents-in-law Keith and Cressey Stackhouse, who believed in us both from the beginning.}

_{The end of this book marks a watershed in the series; Kydd is now an officer and in the next book he begins the transition from the fo'c'sle as a common seaman to the quarterdeck as a gentleman. It will not be an easy journey...}

Hardback — October 2004 o 340 832177

_{Paperback - April 2005 o 340 832193}

_{Hodder & Stoughton}