The Baltic Prize

Chapter 43

Kydd woke. There was no reason to at this time, the silent hours some little way after one or two in the morning, the motion of the ship in the slight swell a pleasing heave, the muted sounds of the night comforting, calming.

Reassured he lay back in his cot, watching the black shadows on the deck-head chase each other to and fro, a wan moonlight entering from the single gun-port, reflected by the sea. Tyger had had a rare success for a frigate on what amounted to a blockade, putting an end to the worst of the privateers plaguing the coast.

But he became aware of dissatisfaction, restlessness. The privateers were a menace, but what were they compared to the consequences of the iron grip Bonaparte was clamping on the ports, one by one? His strategy was a war winner that was succeeding by slowly strangling Britain’s Baltic trade, its only gateway to the continent. Unless Britain could find a counter-move the future was dire.

Kydd turned and worried at the problem anew, a Damocles sword hanging over England. Yet again the same answer. They were doing their duty in Tyger, ceaselessly ploughing the seas to deter by their very presence – but he was quite powerless against matters that had removed themselves to the land. No cutting-out expedition, no daring landing or assault on a fort would have any effect on what amounted to nothing more than adverse Customs and revenue practices.

The mood stayed with him, robbing him of the usual pleasure of a new dawn, the light stealing over the seascape dispelling the gloom of the night into the promise of day.

Later that morning Dillon came to see him, a German newspaper in his hands. It had been given to him by one of the Prussians outward bound; merchant intelligence in such publications gave a good idea of conditions in the ports and interior.

‘I see your Amelie has been made subject to a confiscation order,’ he said.

Dillon’s language skills had proved invaluable in keeping track of events in Bonaparte’s empire that could have local effect. Now Kydd learned that the amiable and elderly master of the barque lately visited by Tyger had lost his argument with the Konigsberg douaniers.

‘Poor fellow,’ Kydd muttered. ‘Do sit down, Edward, and let’s talk.’

Dillon pulled up an armchair.

‘These confiscations.’

‘A hard thing to bear.’

‘Yes, but I can’t help noticing some are getting through, landing cargo, putting out again. How are they doing it?’

‘Quite. If there’s a way, all should know of it, but I doubt that your regular run of merchant master wants to be free with his methods.’

‘Aye, there’s the rub. The beggars won’t pull together. I do wish we knew, as we can tell ’em all.’

Dillon got to his feet and paced about the cabin. ‘This might sound singular, if not odd in its particulars, but I’ve an idea. You may well scorn, but if it’s successful we’ll be able to find out.’

Kydd looked up doubtfully. ‘Fire away, old fellow.’

‘Well, it’s this. You see before you an American gentleman of unimpeachable neutrality desirous of making landfall in these parts in order to visit his mother, sadly taken sick. He can’t get passage on a packet, so ships in a merchant vessel as a passenger. He’s there accordingly when the port authorities come aboard and may witness the entire procedure for himself.’

‘Madness!’

‘Why so? The douaniers are concerned only in the ship and cargo, not the affairs of a single harmless passenger. The Prussians will be more engaged in matters of Customs and revenue and be similarly indifferent. And both will not be particularly ready to upset the United States, you’ll agree.’

‘You haven’t a passport.’

‘It seems it was regrettably stolen, but I have a number of letters of introduction, which, as you know, are the usual means by which gentlemen identify themselves.’

‘Which you will create.’

‘As confidential secretary to Lord Farndon, I’ve a slight acquaintance with same.’

‘And your obliging ship?’

‘Your choice of one that is successful in the art. I’m placed aboard after a fat fee passes, and as I’m entirely ignorant and uninterested in anything in the line of cargo handling and ships, there will be no objection raised, I think.’

‘A pretty plot, Edward. And quite out of the question. I’m not allowing it, and that you may take as final.’