Julian Stockwin - Seaflower

Obedient to his last command, Seaflower headed for the open sea, but Farrell slowly got to his feet and breathed heavily. 'Do you mark my words, we'll make them pay for this day.'

For half a day Seaflower sped out to sea, Farrell pacing thoughtfully, at times disappearing below with the sailing master. Towards evening a plan had been hatched that Farrell laid before Seaflower’s company that afternoon around the main-hatch. 'The port consists of a narrow point of land, with a mole on the other side like an arm enclosing a harbour. The brig will undoubtedly be alongside the inner face of the mole. Now, it were vain to think of carrying her in a direct assault in the open — the longboat can bear but fourteen men, this is not sufficient.'

He paused, then smiled. 'But we have a chance. I mean to "borrow" a sugar lighter from further up the coast. This is how the joggaree — the raw lump sugar — is carried to the port to be shipped out. These are mean and unworthy craft, having but one masterly quality: they may carry concealed as many stout men as we choose. This lighter will approach the entrance, but it will be a sad parcel of lubberly rogues who try to bring her in. I have no doubt she will run a-foul of whatever unfortunate vessel is lying alongside . . .'

A restless murmuring and then grins broke out, followed by hearty chuckles. Farrell held up his hands for silence. 'We still have a use for the longboat. With her fourteen men, it is landed before dawn on the far side of the point. The boat is dragged over the sandy point and therefore launched inside the harbour, where it may fall upon the enemy from a quite unexpected direction.'

This time there was silence. It was broken by Farthing, who shouted, 'An' it's three cheers fer Cap'n Farrell, mates! One, two, six — an' a tigerrr!’

Farrell's smile of pleasure was unexpectedly boyish. 'It is the custom in the Royal Navy on hazardous duty to call for volunteers .. .' Kydd found himself coxswain of Stirk's longboat and Renzi was detailed for the lighter to assist with the French language. Nearly the whole of Seaflower's crew would be involved in the venture, but five needed to be held back to keep the cutter at sea.

'I must request, Mr Merrick,' said Farrell, 'that you remain to take the charge of Seaflower, therefore—'

'Sir! This is monstrous unjust!' the boatswain protested. 'You do me dishonour—'

'I'm sure, Mr Merrick, you will always do your duty in the best traditions of the Service.'

The longboat was lowered from Seaflower when darkness fell. The quarter-moon would last for half the night and then would set, making it easy for the longboat to see its way to creep in to the seaward side of the point. In Seaflower hands were raised in farewell as she made off to the north to find the lighter, disappearing silently from view in the subdued moonlight.

The boat hissed to a stop on the sandy beach. Fourteen men around the sturdy craft quickly had her up the beach and out of sight in the greenery. Stirk motioned to them to conceal themselves while he and Kydd went forward to reconnoitre.

It was absolutely quiet, a light susurration of breeze, gentle and soothing, and no sign of human presence on the dry, sandy landscape. Sharply contrasting black shadows on silver light made it hard to pick a way - the task was to get the boat over the point and in position to launch just before dawn. They chose a low saddle, sand with small rocks and little vegetation. It was harder than it looked to drag the heavy boat across the small, gnarled scrub with feet stubbing on rocks and sand.

Stirk's whispered 'Two, six — heavyyyyy' became monotonous and hypnotic, but they made good progress, and well before time they were on the other side among the fringing shrubbery near the water's edge - and opposite the mole. The moon had set in the early hours and it was difficult to make out the dark mass of the brig across the darkling waters, but there were the two pinpricks of lanthorn light in the rigging to mark her out.

They rested, waiting for daybreak. It was very quiet; only the odd night noise from the small town around the curve of the bay, the plop and splash of fish, muffled curses at the coolness and restless movement from fourteen men. A blue edge came to the darkness - it would be light soon, arriving with tropical swiftness.

Stirk called them together. 'Now, mates, we's got a good chance if we goes in fast. An' I means fast — I want ter see yez stretch out on the oars like yer've never seen, an' up 'er side like monkeys wi' their arses on fire.'

There was an impatient muttering: the men had been picked for the job, and were more than ready. As the light strengthened, features emerged in the clarity of the morning; the mole, the brig — and movement along the length of the mole. Kydd tried to make out what was happening. A trumpet cut into the morning, a thin baying at this distance but its significance was undeniable. There was a force of soldiers of unknown size on the mole.

Kydd knew that everything had changed. He looked to Stirk. Stirk's tough expression was set and his voice became grave. 'This is a-lookin' hickey. Our shipmates is standin' into hazard, they don' know there's sojers a-waitin' for 'em.' He stared across at the soldiers forming up, and his jaw hardened.

'We're goin' ter take 'em b' surprise, the Crapauds.' He sighted along the line of beach. A couple of small fishing boats were drawn up nearby but otherwise it was clear along to the town, a mile or so away. 'We pelts along, through th' town and takes 'em from th' inside. Won't know what hits 'em. An' this'll make 'em take their eyes off of the Cap'n while he cuts out th' brig.' He glared around the group of seamen, as if daring comment.

Kydd could see the peril that Farrell would face, coming out of the dawn to find too late the soldiers ready to fall on his band. It couldn't be allowed to happen: Stirk was right to take action. But a frontal assault on soldiers? It was courageous, but against armed troops in their own positions — no, they would have no chance except to sacrifice themselves in the hope that it would not be in vain. The emotional switch from exhilaration, through apprehension to dogged acceptance was cruel.

A quiet voice announced, 'There they is".' The low bulk of a sugar lighter crept into distant view from the north. They were committed: Farrell had no idea of the soldiers, and when he saw them closer to he would probably press ahead rather than let down his other party.

Kydd forced his mind to go cool. There had to be a diversion to take attention from Farrell to themselves. But did it have to be a full assault? Could it be.. . 'Toby,' Kydd said. Stirk swung about to face him. 'Might be, we c'n do it another way.'

From Stirk's compressed lips and glittering eyes, Kydd knew that he was keyed up for what had to be done. 'Yeah? I can't see one, cuffin.'

Kydd persevered: an alternative was forming in his mind. 'Look, we don't have t' go at 'em front on. We c'n just—'

Stirk stepped up to him. 'Kydd, we do it the way I said!' he snarled. 'In case yer've forgotten, I'm in charge.'

'Aye, Toby,' Kydd replied carefully. 'Youse in command right enough — just sayin' that we don't have e take—'

Breathing heavily, Stirk grabbed his shirt-front by both hands. Then he spoke slowly and savagely: 'Kydd, I didn't reckon on it, but you're a piggin' shy cock.'

Kydd was aware of the circle of silent men around him, but felt a rising anger. 'An' you're fuckin' blind! Why don't you want t' hear of somethin' else?'

Stirk released Kydd's shirt slowly. 'Let's hear it,' he said finally. His eyes held Kydd's unblinkingly.

Kydd tried to bring a lucidity, a logical sequence to his ideas as Renzi always did. 'We've got to get the Frogs t' pay attention to us, right? Look away fr'm the lighter, get worried about us. We c'n do that. We launches th' longboat an' has a go at the brig.'