Julian Stockwin - Caribbee

Renzi breathed deeply. ‘I’ve a nightmare that will not leave my mind.’

‘I’d have thought a rational sort o’ fellow like you shouldn’t have trouble dealing with such.’

‘You say that we’re to be concerned chiefly with keeping the sea lanes free of vermin. Not to be scouted, true, but in my bones I feel that we’ll soon be faced with much worse than that.’

‘That the French will make an attack? We all know they’d go on the offensive if they could, but we’re ready for ’em! Or is it something else ails you, m’ friend?’

‘It is. Napoleon Bonaparte. I keep seeing him sitting there in the Tuileries brooding over Trafalgar and what it means to his imperial ambitions, witnessing our empire growing and his fading away. He knows that this is, for the most part, funded by the produce of our Caribbean islands and he would stop at nothing to put an end to it. If it’s within his power to strike a devastating blow directly at them, as will deprive us of their substance, then at one stroke he reduces his most implacable foe to penury. No more subsidies to stir up the continental powers against him, no means to sustain the great Navy that protects them – in that event he’s well aware that the only course left us is to sue for peace.’

‘You’re rattled by the bugaboo Boney!’

‘No!’ Renzi drew up his chair quickly and, leaning forward, spoke as gravely as Kydd had ever heard him.

‘Listen to me! The Emperor of France is a ferocious conqueror with a brilliant mind. We should never, ever underestimate him, particularly when crossed. Since Trafalgar he’s all the time he needs to plot and plan a deadly thrust at our vitals, a terrible revenge. I feel it in my bowels that he’s contemplating a master-stroke. It’s a logical move for him – and so like the man.’

He paused to draw breath. ‘Let me mention just two that come to mind.

‘Properly planned this time, a battle group assembles needing merely a single sail-of-the-line from each of the Atlantic ports, but this easily outnumbers our Leeward Island Squadron. It concentrates on one major island, say Jamaica, sweeping contemptuously aside any resistance we can put up, and lands a strong military force. They need only take Kingston and Spanish Town and they have the island.

‘Moving quickly they retrieve their soldiers, leaving a garrison to tie down the troops we have rushed there. This time Barbados is invested – there are at least six landing places, which cannot all be defended. Bridgetown falls and with it the island.

‘In one move the tables are turned. They are in possession of our largest sources of production – and with it most of our ports and dockyards. From these as their base, they may descend on our possessions one by one at their leisure, all before word reaches England and reinforcements are sent.’

Kydd had seen for himself what Bonaparte could achieve; if it were not for Nelson’s triumph at the Nile, history would be telling a much different story of his adventures in the Orient. And it would not be unreasonable to conceive that, secure on land after Austerlitz, he might personally lead the assault, if only for the glory that would be the lot of the victor.

Yet the French Atlantic ports were well blockaded and there were cruisers and sloops by the dozen keeping a weather eye for such – and they had only to alert the North American Squadron, which was wintering in Bermuda, to find ready assistance in a fleet action.

He nodded to Renzi to continue. ‘You mentioned two?’

‘The other? Much cheaper and more easily achieved. A slave revolt! With just a couple of frigates he lands arms by night on every larger island into the hands of agents, who have promised freedom to the slaves for the price of rising up against their masters. If they were timed to move simultaneously, we would inevitably be overwhelmed.’

Kydd tried to think of a reason why it couldn’t happen but failed.

‘The man has the cunning of a wild animal and is twice as ruthless. He will move against us – he has to. Depend upon it.’

Struck by Renzi’s passion, Kydd said weakly, ‘We’ve always known he’s like to raise mischief in the Caribbean but so far …’

‘Tom – I’ve never had such before but I do now confess to a dreadful foreboding. I feel it in my bones – there’s to be a reckoning from Napoleon Bonaparte himself and it’s to be aimed squarely at these islands. While in blithe ignorance we sport and play there’s gathering a storm of retribution – and when it breaks, we will most assuredly be made to suffer.’

‘Nicholas, what are you asking me to do? This is a matter of high strategy and I’m certain it’s been thought on by our lords and masters.’

‘Do? Well, I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do – except perhaps indulge me in my imaginings.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Meanwhile, carry on, take each day as it comes and glory in your eminence in this veritable paradise.’

True to his word, the commander-in-chief’s orders went out shortly afterwards. They were precise and to the point. The frigates would sail at dawn and establish a secure perimeter for the fleet’s assembly. When satisfied with his dispositions, the commander-in-chief would signal to make good a course to the north-north-west to pass along the entire island chain until 19 degrees north latitude was reached. In this way every entrance to the Caribbean from the open ocean to the east would come under eye. At this point the squadron would bear away to the north-west and do the same off the great Atlantic inward passages in the north, the Mona and Windward, then up to the Bahamas off Spanish Florida.

On their way north the squadron would stand seaward and conduct evolutions; on the return they would show themselves off the French-held islands of Guadeloupe and Martinique.

The evolutions would not affect L’Aurore for the four frigates would be out ahead in a broad line of search, kept in touch with the commander-in-chief by the sloops. In case of foul weather, rendezvous lines were established, as usual coded by number, their actual location kept separately.

In the event they fell in with a French battle-squadron, an engagement was expected in which the Fighting Instructions and Admiralty signal code of 1799 were to be strictly observed. Positioned outside the line of battle, Acasta and L’Aurore were designated repeating frigates, another two to take station ahead and astern of the line. Kydd recalled that this was precisely what he had done at Trafalgar, and with the same signal code.

It was straightforward and he expected no difficulties. L’Aurore , however, was showing signs of wear after a winter in the south. There was a small but persistent leak, probably through timbers strained by taking the mud so often in Buenos Aires. As well, a fore topmast bore evidence of being sprung, and the carpenter was shaking his head over a strake repaired as best he could without a dockyard after taking a ball between wind and water. And, of course, as always, there was cordage that, after ceaseless operations aloft, was beginning to fray.

Nothing that a spell in a dockyard wouldn’t mend, though.

Next day, in beautiful weather set fair to melt the hardest heart, the frigates put to sea. After a rapid reconnoitre they took up positions off the north of Barbados at the corners of a five-mile square and lay to.

Then the Leeward Islands Squadron weighed and proceeded to sea.

Kydd took his fill. It was always a grand sight, a battle-fleet moving out to take possession of the sea by right, a line of mighty sail-of-the-line in warlike arrogance and symmetry throwing down a challenge to whomsoever might dispute it.

They formed up: the flagship Northumberland in the centre, Atlas in the van and Hannibal in the rear. Kydd knew from his memories of Tenacious off Toulon that it was now the stuff of nightmares on the quarterdeck of every ship, to stay not only in the line of sight astern from the flagship but, as well, at the stipulated distance apart. This would be achieved only by judicious and delicate sail-trimming: more showing of a headsail, a quick clewing up of a topsail corner, spilling wind to bring down speed. All in a frenzied reaction to deal with chance wind-flaws, drifting with the current and the sheer sliding inertia of thousands of tons of battleship.