Julian Stockwin - Mutiny

'You won't — he it will be who has the harder, o' course. President o' the delegates is a high enough office.'

Parker pulled a fob watch from his waistcoat. 'I do believe that our time is come. Be so good as to advise the delegates and muster the boat's crew.'

Kydd had also taken care with his appearance. It would definitely be the first and, very probably, the last time that he would catch sight of the ultimate head of the navy, the legendary First Lord of the Admiralty.

'They shall have constituted their board by now,' Parker said, in the boat. The other delegates were subdued, but defiandy wore their red ribbons. Many more followed in boats behind, determined to be present at the historic occasion.

They stepped out on the wharf, marched resolutely to the commissioner's residence, and assembled in the foreyard. The vast flag of Admiralty, only flown by the Lord High Admiral of England, floated from the central staff of the mansion.

Kydd held his breath: this was the moment for which they had put themselves in the shadow of the noose.

With every eye on him, Parker walked up to the black door and knocked. It was immediately opened by Admiral Buckner.

'Sir,' Parker said, with the utmost gravity, 'I understand that the First Lord is present within.'

'He is.' There was tension in Buckner's voice.

'And the board?'

"They are.' Something about Buckner's manner made Kydd uneasy.

'We should like to know if these are the same lords who have been at Portsmouth.'

"They are.'

Parker stepped back a pace. 'Then, sir, we respectfully request their lordships to come aboard the Sandwich and settle the business.'

There was a rustle of anticipation in the delegates behind him: they would finally get a glimpse of the shadowy figures with whom they had been locked in a clash of wills, but there was not a single movement.

'Sir?' prodded Parker.

Buckner stood irresolute. He said something in a voice so low it was inaudible.

'I beg your pardon, sir?'

'I said, their lordships will not do that.'

'Will not do that? Please be clear, sir.'

'Er, excuse me.' Buckner withdrew into the house. Inaudible rumbling of speech could be heard, then he re-emerged. 'His lordship insists he will see you only for the purpose of declaring that you accept the King's Pardon and return to duty.'

Parker drew a deep breath. 'Then pray, sir, how will our grievances be taken under consideration, if the First Lord will not hear them?'

Again Buckner wavered. 'I — please, pardon.' He again disappeared inside.

The seaman next to Kydd shifted his position and muttered, 'Shy bastard, 'is lordship, don't want t' be seen talkin' to our faces.'

Buckner came out, visibly agitated. 'Lord Spencer reminds you that all of your grievances have been redressed. No discussion can possibly take place with their lordships.'

'Sir, you are a man of sense. This is no way to conduct negotiations between—'

'If you accept His Majesty's most gracious pardon you will be allowed to declare it personally to their lordships. Their lordships will then pronounce to you the pardon in the King's name.'

'Then—'

Buckner straightened his stoop and looked Parker directly in the eye. 'That is all.'

For a long moment Parker stared doggedly ahead, then wheeled round and pushed his way through the crowd. 'Wh-where 're we going, Dick?' someone asked.

'To perdition, shipmate!' he replied hoarsely.

Kydd hurried to keep up. 'Th' Chequers?'

'Sandwich’

The admiral's Great Cabin filled rapidly. Anyone not a delegate was unceremoniously ejected. 'Gangway! Clear th' house, y' lubbers.' Blake's husky bellow wa.s unmistakable.

'They won't listen, Tom,' Parker said, in stricken tones, as they pushed their way to the front. 'They really don't want to talk to us.'

Kydd was alarmed by Parker's ashen pallor. Whatever he had seen in Buckner's face had seriously unmanned him. 'Do take a roun' turn, Dick. Y'r people are relyin' on you,' he said urgentiy. Took, we've just the same force now we always had. Nothing's changed.' He tried desperately to reach him. 'An' their precious lordships, did they come t' Sheerness jus' to tell us of the pardon? They're expectin' a fight of it'

'The pardon? Perhaps we should, after all, accept it'

'Dick!' said Kydd, in quiet anguish. 'Don't fail us now. We have them here, they're waitin' for us. F'r Christ's sake, stay by us!'

'What's goin' on?' came a catcall. 'Why aren't we layin' it into 'em?'

'Dick!' Kydd could say no more.

Davis loudly called the meeting to order as Parker made a visible effort to compose himself. Shortly into the heated debate that followed Parker was summoned away. He returned prompdy, carrying a bundle of papers. 'Here it is, brothers. This, then, is the position their lordships hold. It was given to me by our old captain himself.'

He stood behind his chair and held up a document He broke the seal, read the contents, but did not speak. He swayed, and when he looked up his face held a deep anguish.

'Well, what'd it say?' came a call.

*Er, matters have reached a certain — shall we say? — impasse.' Parker looked again at the document as if needing confirmation of grave news.

'Blast yer eyes, then give us a look,' Blake said, reaching across.

'No,' said Parker oddly, holding the paper protectively to his chest

'What does it say, Dick?' Kydd asked firmly. The meeting would have to know sooner or later.

'It says — it tries to drive a wedge into our unity, to appeal—'

' What does it say, fer God's sake?

Parker sat down heavily, holding the paper close. 'It says - it says that all those who wish to accept the King's Pardon must do so before noon tomorrow. After that time, their lordships will strike their flag and return to London, leaving those still in a state of mutiny to their fate.'

Some sat stunned, others looked visibly relieved, more still were angry and disbelieving. 'Those scurvy shabs!' Hulme spat contemptuously. 'Why don't they give us the same as they served out to 'em at Spithead? What's wrong wi' we that they won't talk man t' man like they did before?'

A rumble of agreement turned into a roar. 'Shipmates! Brothers!' Parker tried to get their attention, but his voice was drowned in the fury. Eventually he got a hearing. 'It's my duty to tell you, much as it pains me — yet I must say it as I see it - it is my unhappy conclusion that their lordships have no intention whatsoever of negotiating with us. For whatever reason, they are turning their backs on us and our complaints. I do not understand why,' he added heavily. 'They are obstinate and heedless of our cries, and I fear are implacable. Therefore it is my sad duty to recommend that we accept the pardon and - and give up our venture.'

'You what?' shouted Blake. 'Give it away! Nothin's changed. C'n I remind our president, we still hold all the cards! We're a fleet o' near five hundred guns — no one's goin' to go up against us. We calls their bluff, mates.'

Parker rummaged around and slapped a thick wedge of papers. 'These are printed copies of the pardon for distribution around the fleet. What will the common sailors think? That this is their chance, and you will deny them?'

Hulme leaned over. "They don't have ter know,' he snarled.

'Yeah,' said Blake. 'We's the true elected delegates, we speak fer them, an' we decides what ter do. What are we about, th't we do their fuckin' lordships' work for 'em? Bum the lot, I say, an' stand steadfast!'

Davis intervened: 'Y' know what this means — the noos is goin' ter get out anyway, an' that says there's goin' to be them what are now ready t' give it in. What'll we do then, half our strength goes?'

'We p'suades 'em ter stay,' said Blake, with a grim smile.