In a fury of activity Kydd turned over his cabin to be headquarters. First things first. It had to be a boat action as no one knew the bottom ground in the inner waters, where there was sufficient depth of water for a full-rigged ship, even what they’d be seeing there.
He set officers from various ships stepping out distances with dividers, determining cannon-shot range arcs from the forts and covering fire. Meanwhile he and the sailing master established what quadrants the wind could be in to allow them to close with the enemy. A foul wind would throw out all plans: miles under oars before a desperate action would be too much to ask of even the bravest.
The core of his attack was to be a murderous blaze. Nothing else would allow boats to take on ships. The only advantage they had was that the French would be securely anchored and unsuspecting. A mass attack by boats with fire-rafts in quantity on a dense, unmoving target would be a horrifying sight, and even if cables were cut, with the wind anywhere in the west they would drift on to the marshy ground beyond and still suffer the onslaught.
This would be but part of the attack. Each craft would have its share of boat mortars to fire carcasses, flaming infernals instead of shot, and he’d see if he could also find some of Colonel Congreve’s rockets to mount in them.
He was going to demand boats from every ship in the fleet – twenty, thirty, forty – and all volunteers, for once action had been joined they’d have to fight their way out.
It was a desperate, wild venture, but there was much to be gained. If they destroyed the majority of the enemy they’d be achieving a victory in numbers and degree to set next to the action of the Glorious First of June!
The plan took shape. Boats were fitted out at a ferocious pace, rafts normally used for painting ships’ sides loaded with powder and combustibles, and the evil-looking bronze boat mortars bedded in. In a surprisingly short time the assault flotilla was near ready, assembling out of sight to seaward. Kydd didn’t want curious bumboats or others to catch sight of what was going on but on the other hand to forbid them their normal trade would arouse suspicion.
Remarkably, the breeze was with them, a mild west-south-westerly. There was an obliging moon that would not show its face before midnight and tides that, while not perfect, were on the flood for much of the time.
With no point in delay they would go in that night.
There would be no last-minute noble address to the warriors about to join battle for they’d be scattered in boats well out of earshot and, in any case, men like them did not need such. Instead they would be looking to their commander leading from the fore, in the first boat.
Left alone in Tyger’s great cabin, Kydd let his thoughts rush on in a chaotic stream as they usually did before a planned action.
But then, just as it did after a morning sight of sail turned to the certainty that this was the enemy, cold calculation came to the fore. Wind prevailing, currents, land proximity, all falling into their place in the larger reckoning and the result: a hot-blooded combat that required only intelligence, attention to detail and courage to result in victory.
It was the overlooking of detail in the rush and hurry that lost battles, not a want of courage. Had he done enough?
Then, with a start, Renzi came to mind. Kydd had no idea what the address meant in terms of proximity to the tempest of shot and shell that was to come, but there was a chance that his dear friend would be innocently caught up in the blaze of fighting.
However, it was within his power to warn him. Scribbling a message, he folded the paper tightly and looked around. There was nothing he could see that would serve so he rang for Tysoe. ‘The largest jar of marmalade you can find in my cabin stores, if y’ please.’
Tysoe hesitated only an eye-blink, then returned wordlessly with the article.
Carefully slipping the message under the lid, Kydd closed it with his personal seal. ‘Find our grocer cove and tell him he may claim half-a-crown if it’s delivered to this address before sunset.’