The Baltic Prize

Chapter 50

Riposte arrived the next evening but Kydd decided to wait for the following morning before he spoke to Mason, the graceless, powder-burned captain he remembered from earlier. And the next day he was granted the welcome vision of the two sloops he’d been promised, Snipe and Forward. The absurdly young, inexperienced Garland and an unknown commander to take on the Danes on their own ground.

At nine precisely he hung out the signal for all captains. Garland arrived promptly and not far behind came Forward’s captain, a lieutenant-in-command, lined and ageing, taking his time coming in over the bulwark. Holding his impatience in check, Kydd discovered this was one Wills, who’d been with his ship for the extraordinary time of seven years, all in the North Sea.

‘Where’s Riposte?’ he demanded. It was the custom to refer to a captain by the name of his ship but no one seemed inclined to reply.

In rising anger he paced the quarterdeck for some minutes, then lost patience. ‘Bring the signal to the dip and hoist it again, this time with a gun.’

But there was no response from the frigate.

‘Mr Bowden,’ Kydd grated, ‘go to Riposte and desire her captain to attend on me immediately, with an explanation for ignoring my signal.’

It was acutely embarrassing. The two who’d come were trying to maintain a front of interested conversation, which he could not, of course, enter into. He could only continue to pace alone. Mason had better have a good excuse for his behaviour.

Bowden returned with a hard-looking lieutenant, who boarded warily, his manner defensive. ‘Lieutenant Byers, who wishes to be heard, sir.’

‘Where is Captain Mason?’ Kydd demanded.

‘Sir. I’m in something of a clinch as it were.’

‘I said-’

‘He’s with Admiral Keats, sir,’ he answered, with a stubborn glance.

‘Then why the devil didn’t you-’

‘To complain that he was being signalled to in a derogatory and disrespectful manner by a junior captain. Sir.’

‘That I am junior to Captain Mason is neither here nor there. For the period of this expedition I am his commander. Is that clear?’

Mason would have received fleet orders the instant he brought to the previous night and would certainly have been told.

‘Expedition?’ Byers seemed genuinely puzzled.

Kydd’s face tightened: Mason was no doubt using the signal to make a point and probably to gain some sort of joint command before he revealed anything to his officers. Well, he’d find that Kydd’s orders came direct from the commander-in-chief and could not be put aside. It would take some time for Mason to return so Kydd apologised to the two captains and told them he would move the meeting to the afternoon.

Clinton took the opportunity to update Kydd and, in calm, imperturbable terms, told of the need for a further fifty thousand rounds of musket ammunition to be embarked, the field sign of a white cross assigned to the first wave, and how his forces would be disposed once landed. It was just the medicine Kydd needed, and he complimented the officer warmly.

‘Ours but to put you ashore, then,’ he added briskly. ‘How’s the recruiting? You have your hundreds?’

‘I’m promised most,’ Clinton said cautiously. ‘Should we embark not before tomorrow I’ll have my numbers, sir.’

‘All captains’ was signalled at two.

Mason was the first to board. ‘I say, Sir Thomas, my most humble apologies. Some kind of confusion about the orders.’ The voice was amiable, but the eyes remained cold and reserved.

‘Then there’s nothing to stop us continuing our meeting, is there? My first lieutenant, Mr Bray. Do conduct Captain Mason to my great cabin, if you please.’

The other two were not far behind and were escorted below, too.

For some reason Kydd felt the need to delay his appearance and found something to discuss with the officer-of-the-day before turning to follow.

Outside his cabin he hesitated. There were voices at the table within and one rode above the others. ‘… a mountebank, a poseur. I had it from Taylor of Imperatrix, saw him as bold as day, prancing about like a macaroni, trying to impress Prinny or some such. Didn’t fadge, of course, the man’s a dandy and that’s that. Why we’re given over to such escapes me. Interest at the highest and we all know where, I’d hazard. Well, we’ll just have to-’

Kydd thrust forward, the door opening with a bang. He strode past the startled officers and reached his chair at the head of the table as they hastily rose, Mason the last on his feet.

‘So now we’re all here,’ Kydd bit off, ‘we’ll begin. Bornholt. Be advised this objective is vital and will be taken.’

He paused, letting his eyes challenge Mason’s, who held them for a space, then looked down.

‘We are not great in numbers, therefore the motions of every ship will be decisive. My orders do reflect this and I desire every captain to give good attention to the single signification signals laid down for this operation. Clear?’

Mason’s blank face gave nothing away but the other two were giving them serious study.

Kydd went through the order pack, relating it to the chart and, where necessary, to the large-scale sketch that he’d asked the master to produce.

It wasn’t difficult to outline the hazards, particularly the long spit of reef to the east, but Kydd was counting on surprise: their sudden appearing out of the east directly opposite the lighthouse and fortification to occupy them while the boats went in on the southern side, the expected landing at the pier at the western end not eventuating.

Tyger and Riposte would arrive together. If the enemy made an appearance, Riposte would sail to intercept while Tyger would stay with the boats. Forward and Snipe were to circle the island at three miles off on defensive patrol. If the wind was easterly, they would be in position without beating along the island into it, and if westerly, they were already in position.

There were no questions and Kydd dismissed them with a curt admonishment to prepare to sail forthwith.