Julian Stockwin - Mutiny

Finally it penetrated. Kydd looked up from his conversation with a pretty woman. 'Nicholas!' he shouted, above the hullabaloo. 'Make a lane there, y' lubbers!'

Kydd was back in simple seaman's rig, white duck trousers, waistcoat and short blue jacket, and was flushed with the occasion. 'Hey, now! Nicholas, well met, m' fine frien'.

'An' this is Kitty, Kitty Malkin. She's walkin' out wi' me, lives on the hulks in as snug a home as any I've seen. Look, let's away fr'm here 'n' talk.'

Kitty flashed Renzi a shrewd look. 'Pleased t' make y'r acquaintance, sir.' She turned to Kydd and patted his arm. 'Do go wi' y'r friend, dear, I have some shoppin' to do.'

Renzi fell into step with Kydd. They found the road across the marshes relatively peaceful, and slowly walked together. 'Such a happenin' the world's never seen.' Kydd chuckled. 'Dare t' say that in Parliament they're rare put to think what t' do.'

'Er, yes, I'm sure that is the case,' Renzi said. 'But do you not think that Mr Pitt - under pressure as he is -would not in any wise tolerate a new mutiny just as the old one is at a crisis?'

Kydd's face darkened. 'That's not th' question. It is, do we stan' with our brothers in Spithead, or do we shamefully leave 'em t' the hazard all alone?'

'Of course, dear fellow, I quite see that — an expression of support is demanded at this time.' He allowed the moment to cool, then continued, 'You are assisting Mr Parker .. . ?'

'I am,' said Kydd, 'but not in a big way, o' course. He's got a mort o' work t' do, bringin' all th' ships together f'r the cause, some as are bein' fractious an' ill-disciplined.' He looked at Renzi direcdy. 'Dick Parker is a great man, Nicholas. A real headpiece on him. He's given himself t' the cause of his shipmates, an' that makes him a right good hand by me.'

Renzi hesitated. 'This is open mutiny — you stand in peril of your life.'

Kydd smiled. 'Not really, Nicholas. Y’ see, we have it fr'm Spithead that there'll be a pardon for ev'ryone after it's all settled.'

'And this is declared in writing? From Parliament -or the King? This requires an Act of Parliament at the least.'

'Damn you, Nicholas, why do ye always see the gloomy side o' things? We're goin' t' stand tall 'n' demand that we be heard, an' won't move until we get our justice.'

'For the sake of friendship, I have to say again — it is no flogging matter, you are in mutiny. This is a capital crime!'

'We'll have th' pardon!'

'You think you'll have the pardon!'

Kydd squared up to Renzi. 'You're sayin' as I shouldn't stand f'r what I know's right. How's that f'r y'r talk o' principle an' moral right as y' used to tell?'

Renzi could see Kydd was incensed: there was no way to reach him. 'I do not dispute the tightness of your cause, only the way in which you pursue it,' he replied quickly.

'Tell me how else we should, seein' as how f'r the first time we're gettin' the whole fleet to rise at th' same time? You say we have t' drop ev'rything now, just when we're a whisker away fr'm success?' Kydd snorted. 'Somethin' has happened t' you, Nicholas. Y' go around wi' the blue devils all the while, an' now when y' shipmates need y'r help an' understandin' then y' go cold 'n' condemn 'em. I recommend y' sort out whatever ails ye an' think about things. I have t' go -things t' do.'

Renzi trudged back to the little public house in Mile Town. It was madness, of course: the government would not survive the crisis of a second mutiny and would not, could not, let it succeed.

A small note sent later in the day to Sandwich inviting Kydd for a supper together was returned prompdy with an inability scrawled on the back. The noise and laughter of Blue Town echoed across the marsh, and Renzi needed to get away. Possibly there was a pardon on offer — unlikely, yet not impossible. But if not, there would be grim scenes soon.

He decided to join the other shipless exiles in the coach to Rochester, where they would wait out the inevitable in the more agreeable surroundings of the ancient town.

Kydd had regretted his manner even before he returned to Sandwich but he didn't want to see Renzi just now. He realised that it was due to the excitement of the hour, the exalted state of achieving so much against the world's antagonism and the extraordinary festive air, all being thrown down in the dust by his friend. There might have been some truth in what Renzi said, but he was not privy to the kind of information that Parker had relayed to Kydd from Spithead.

There was movement in the anchorage as he returned to Sandwich. A smart eighteen-pounder frigate had unwittingly moored at the head of the Nore, just having sailed leisurely down-river. 'San Fiorenzo' Kydd was told. He remembered that this was the frigate assigned to take the royal couple on their honeymoon.

Back aboard, Kydd looked at the ship. 'Has she declared f'r us?' he asked.

'No signs yet, mate.' Coxall lowered his glass and gave it to Kydd.

'Give 'em three good 'uns, lads,' Kydd said. Men leaped into the rigging and obeyed heartily, but through the glass he could see no sign of yard-ropes being reeved on the frigate, and there was no cheering. 'They'll come to it when they hears,' Kydd said.

The bulk of Inflexible under topsails slid round the point, on her way to the Great Nore. From another direction came a pair of boats headed for San Fiorenzo. Kydd lifted his glass again. 'The delegates, lads. They'll put 'em straight.'

There was activity on her deck, but nothing could be made out for sure until figures went down her side again and the boats put off. By this time Inflexible had drawn close, slipping past on the tide. A massed roar of cheers broke out, but the frigate remained silent. Another volley of cheers brought no response. The battleship did not vary her course, but as she drew abreast of the frigate, a sudden puff erupted from her fo'c'sle, and the sullen thud of a nine-pound gun echoed.

'Be buggered!' The shot had gone close under the frigate's bowsprit, snapping ropes apart and tearing into the sea less than a hundred yards beyond. In one stroke the mutiny had changed its character. Kydd whipped down the telescope. 'Dick's below?' he snapped, but didn't wait for an answer and plunged down the malodorous decks to the cabins aft. He burst in on Parker without ceremony. 'Inflexible jus' fired on San Fi’ he shouted.

'I know,' said Parker mildly.

'Y' know? Dick — do y' know what they did? They fired on a King's ship! That's worse'n mutiny, that's treason!'

'Tom, I know the Inflexibles are warm for the cause, they may have overstepped, but look there. San Fiorenzo is reeving yard-ropes and cheering as well as we.'

Kydd looked past Parker through the open ornamental stern-lights at the ship, now manning yards and cheering.

Parker leaned back. 'You see? They are now free to express their loyalty to a cause that before they could not. I will not hide it from you — when we rose, we had the advantage of surprise for success. In this way the rising was bloodless, direct. We no longer have this luxury. A ship may be in a tyranny, the seamen unable to throw off the trammels, but if then a superior argument is brought to bear, they are released to stand for their beliefs, and equally bloodless. You see?' 'But with guns?'

'Just so.' Parker sighed and steepled his fingers. 'There is no escaping the imperatives of cold reason, my friend. You will agree that our cause is just, pure in motivation, the higher matter?'

'O' course.'

'And for this task we must set to, heart and hand, until it is finished?' 'Aye.'

'Then we have the choice. Either we bow to the forces who oppose us, and allow them to carry off in despotism the very souls we are striving to serve, or we righteously show our determination, and make it possible for them to spring free of their shackles.'