Julian Stockwin - Caribbee

‘Do sit, Captain. I’m sure it’s been something of a trial, your long voyage.’

‘- but he now stands embarrassed for want of reinforcement,’ Kydd went on doggedly.

‘Which he begs I might furnish.’

‘Sir, the matter is pressing, I believe, and-’

‘And I’m therefore grieved to tell you that your mission is in vain.’

Was this a direct refusal before he’d even mentioned the details? ‘Sir, I have a letter for you from the commodore that establishes the strategics at back of his request.’

Cochrane laid it on the desk, unopened. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

Kydd felt a flush rising. ‘Sir, I do feel-’

‘Captain, two weeks ago your reinforcements touched here on their way to the River Plate.’

‘Why, that’s-’

‘Together with your commodore’s replacement. He is under recall to England to answer for his conduct.’

Kydd was thunderstruck.

‘So that disposes of the matter as far as you are concerned, wouldn’t you say?’ the admiral said, toying with his quill.

‘Um, yes, it does seem, sir, that-’

‘Quite. Then I suppose it would appear that you and your valiant frigate are now without purpose.’

Keyed up for a protracted confrontation, Kydd could think of nothing with which to meet this.

Cochrane leaned forward and said, with a frown, ‘I presume you realise how vital – how crucial – these islands are to Great Britain? You do? Then you’ll be as distracted as I am, not to say dismayed, when you learn that this humble fleet is all that is left to me in the great purpose of defending the same. After Trafalgar we were stripped – I say stripped , sir – of ships of force and value. Should the French make a descent with serious intent, I have the gravest reservations whether I’m in any kind of a position to deter them.’

‘Er, I see, sir.’

‘So I have it in mind that, following the stranding of Felicite frigate, I shall be attaching you to my station pending Admiralty approval.’

Kydd caught his breath. As a commander-in-chief, Cochrane was entitled to avail himself of the services of passing vessels, and there was little doubt that the Admiralty would be reluctant to go to the trouble of sending out a replacement when one had so fortuitously presented itself.

‘A light frigate, of little consequence to operations in the south, while here I’m in great want of frigates both for the fleet and to go against French cruisers and privateers. Yes, my dear Kydd, consider yourself as of this moment under my command. Flags will find you a copy of my orders and see you entered into the fleet’s signal card and so forth, and I’ve no doubt you’ll wish to water and store while you can. We’re shortly to sail on fleet manoeuvres, which will serve as a capital introduction to our ways.’

There was nothing for it: Kydd had to accept that he and L’Aurore were now taken up and Popham’s brave little expedition was replaced by a full-scale enterprise from England that didn’t need them. Their being was now to be found in the Caribbean.

Cochrane mused for a moment, then rose and extended his hand. ‘Therefore I do welcome you to the Leeward Islands Squadron, Kydd – you’ll find me strict, but fair.’ He rang a silver handbell.

A wary lieutenant entered. ‘Sir?’

‘Flags, this is Captain Kydd of L’Aurore frigate. He’s to join our little band and I leave him in your capable hands to perform the consequentials. Oh, and the residence will need to know that they’ll be having another guest at the levee.’

‘Aye aye, sir. Er, it does cross the mind that Captain Kydd’s presence might be considered fortunate at this time …?’

‘What’s that, Flags?’

‘The court-martial, sir. You now have your five captains.’

‘Ah, yes. Like to get this disagreeable business over with before we sail. Er, set it in train, will you? There’s a good fellow.’

Legal proceedings could not begin in a court-martial unless five post captains could be found to sit in judgment and cases had sometimes dragged on for months while waiting for the requisite number.

It was not the most auspicious beginning to his service here.

Back aboard his ship, Kydd cleared lower deck and told her company of developments, mentioning that with powerful reinforcements on their way their shipmates would soon be set at liberty, and announcing the agreeable news that they would be exchanging the winter shoals and lowering darkness of defeat in Buenos Aires for the delights of the Caribbean. It more than made up for the trials of the voyage.

In the time-honoured way, boats had already put off from the shore to the newly arrived ship, laden to the gunwales with tempting delights for sailors long at sea – hands of bananas, moist soursops, grapefruit-tasting shaddock, fried milk, not to mention bammy bread and live chickens, all dispensed with noisy gusto by laughing black faces.

Even Gilbey, the dour first lieutenant, was borne along on the tide of excitement and, wrinkling his nose at the mauby beer, insisted on picking out half a dozen fresh coconuts for the gunroom.

‘That no good for youse, de fine buckra officer!’ a stout lady said, snatching them back. ‘I got toppest kind, verra tender an’ young. You leave others t’ the kooner-men!’ She triumphantly produced some smaller ones, still enshrouded with fine coir hair.

Kydd kept a blank expression. He knew very well what was going on from those long-ago times in the Caribbean as a ‘kooner-man’ himself. Deciding not to interfere, he let Gilbey conclude the deal and stood back as seamen quickly moved in to relieve her of the store of bigger, older nuts. Quite soon there would be merriment of a different kind below decks: the L’Aurores would have wasted no time in ‘sucking the monkey’ – quaffing the powerful rum that had taken the place of milk inside their purchases.

Curzon was compounding with Bowden, the third lieutenant, in the subscribing of a sea-turtle – calipash and calipee – and Kydd graciously acceded to joining them, looking forward to the warmth of a dinner with his officers.

Liberty ashore was promised as soon as storing was complete, but for Kydd there was first a stern duty. At the summons of the single court-martial gun booming over the anchorage, he boarded his gig for Northumberland . He noted others making their way over the glittering sea but he had been occupied with the rendering of myriad accounts, reports and the like to his new commander, and a probing survey of fitness of his ship. Today, therefore, was their first face-to-face meeting, and he was looking forward to making the acquaintance of those with whom he would serve in the future.

This time Kydd was gravely welcomed at the side by the admiral, then went over to join the group of captains standing together on the other side of the deck.

He lifted his cocked hat in greeting. ‘Kydd, L’Aurore frigate, new joined.’

‘New snaffled, I’d wager,’ one hard-faced captain retorted. ‘Always was tight with his ships, our Sir Alex. Oh – Sam Pym o’ Atlas 74. We’ll know more of you shortly, I’d hazard. Your first time in the Caribbee?’ he asked.

Kydd caught himself. It was not, for he had been here as a young seaman – it seemed so very long ago. ‘Er, in the last war, as a younker only,’ he admitted, then went on, ‘Do we know who’s to be tried at all?’

‘Won’t take long, if that’s your meaning. Some foremast jack out o’ Hannibal thought to offer his lieutenant violence on being given an order or some such. His Nibs can be relied upon to come down hard on any who-’

A sour-faced captain leaned forward and hissed, ‘Sssh, gentlemen. There’s to be no discussing the case before it’s heard.’