Julian Stockwin - Quarterdeck

Kydd followed Houghton up the aisle to the front, conscious of heads turning. There was a small lectern, a chalkboard and a table. Just three chairs, facing the hundreds seated, waited.

Houghton took the centre chair and Kydd the left. Bryant was on the right. The talking died away. The collector introduced the officers briefly with a bow and a gesture, then left.

The captain wasted no time. He stepped up to the lectern and fixed his glare on the audience. "I am senior officer of the escorts. On this voyage you will have ships of force with you, and need fear nothing from the French, as long as you sail agreeable to the plan. Runners will not be tolerated unless arrangements are in hand. Do I make myself clear?"

Kydd knew that runners were individual ships that tired of the slower speeds of a convoy and struck out ahead alone. They were taking a chance and were on their own, but stood to gain a lot when theirs was the first cargo landed.

"We have a favourable wind and I intend to proceed tomorrow forenoon with the tide. If you have any objections to the sailing plan you may see me in Tenacious up to six hours before we weigh. Otherwise I will take it that you agree to its provisions and will abide by them." He gripped the sides of the lectern. "Have you any questions? No?" A restless stirring went through the meeting. Houghton relaxed his stance. "Lieutenant Kydd here will present the sailing plan and explain the signals." Kydd felt a moment of panic, but remembered to nod and smile under the scrutiny of so many eyes. He had a deep sense of responsibility that so many merchant seamen were putting their trust in the Navy.

"Then it is only left for me to wish you fair winds and a successful voyage. Good day, gentlemen."

To Kydd's relief, Houghton and the first lieutenant strode together down the aisle and left. He had no wish for his performance to be seen by anyone from Tenacious. Aware of a rustle of expectation he moved to the lectern and stood before the sea of stony faces. "L'tenant Kydd, signal lieutenant in Tenacious ."

His voice came out thin and unconvincing. "I want t' talk to you about our convoy to Halifax an' Newfoundland," he said, trying to toughen his tone. "And especially the conduct o' your ships when given direction by th' escorts. My captain has particularly asked me to—"

"So what if we can't agree wi' your direction, young feller?" A hard-faced man towards the front had risen to his feet. "The King's service knows aught o' what worries us, so why should we do everythin' you tell us? Eh?"

Kydd stuttered a weak reply.

Another master got up, more to the back, but his voice boomed out effortlessly. "Tell us, Mr Lootenant Kydd, truly now, have ye ever crossed the Atlantic in a blow? Come on, son, don' be shy! When it's blowin' great guns 'n' muskets, squalls comin' marchin' in a-weather, lee gunnels under half th' time. Have ye?"

"Er, myself, I'm no stranger t' foul weather."

"Good. Then you'll be able t' tell us how in Hades we c'n spy all your flags an' numbers in a fresh blow an' all!" The two captains sat down to a murmur of agreement.

In front of him were experienced seamen who had been to sea before he was born and whose sea wisdom cast his own into pale insignificance. Kydd saw that Bryant had returned, and was standing at the end of the hall, listening to him. "Should ye not make out our signal, y' keep the answering pennant at the dip," he went on hesitantly. He saw some leaning forward, straining to hear. "If th' weather—"

Bryant marched up the aisle, grim-faced. Kydd yielded the lectern to him.

"I'm L'tenant Bryant, first o' the Tenacious," he began, challenging them with his tone and glowering at them individually. "L'tenant Kydd is my assistant." He flashed a dispassionate glance at Kydd. "Now we have a convoy to get under way afore noon tomorrow, so no more nonsense, if y' please. Any who wants to argue with a King's ship knows what to expect."

He took a wad of instructions and held them up. "As you all know, this is how we conduct our convoy. As usual I'll start at th' beginning, remembering all you've been told about keepin' this under lock 'n' key.

"Convoy assembles in Falmouth Roads, outside the harbour. Each ship t' rig their coloured vane to fly at the fore or main, ac-cordin' to the instructions, not forgetting your number good and plain on each stern-quarter. Order o' sailing and first rendezvous, you should have by you, before we leave."

Bryant leaned forward on the lectern. "Now, here's a thing. My captain's a right Tartar, he is, a hard horse driver who's always on our necks. He's your senior officer now, so I advise you all t' spread what canvas you need to keep the convoy closed up an' all together." He allowed that to sink in, then went on, "Signal code for the convoy is in two parts, and provision is made . . ."

The presentation continued. Kydd stood awkwardly beside Bryant, resentful yet admiring of his easy competence.

Then the conference drew to a close and a line of merchant captains came forward to sign the register and take custody of their convoy instructions. They left to return to their ships; the Blue Peter would soon be at each masthead.

Kydd picked up his gear, avoiding Bryant's eye. He was startled to hear him give a quiet laugh. "They falls out o' the line of sailin', you know what we do? Give 'em a shot in the guts! Sets 'em into a more co-operative frame of mind, it does."

Bryant helped Kydd heap paper rubbish into the bag; this would later be burned. "But the biggest threat we can use is to report 'em to Lloyds," he continued. "They show stubborn, we tell Lloyds, an' then they have to explain to their owners why their insurance premiums just doubled." Before Kydd could say anything, Bryant had consulted his watch and stalked off.

CHAPTER 4

"GOD BLAST HIS EYES!" Houghton's fists were clenched and he shook with fury. "I'll see this rogue roast in hell! Hoist his number on the lee fore halliard and give him another gun."

The signal for "lie to, and await orders before proceeding" still flew from Tenacious 's mizzen peak together with Lady Ann's distinguishing number. It was inconceivable that the shabby timber ship could not understand the need to form up the convoy properly before their voyage began. She seemed intent on heading off into the general distance, vaguely bound for the west, despite the plain sight of so many other ships hove to with brailed-up canvas waiting for the remainder of the convoy to issue out from the inner anchorage.

Kydd marvelled at the sight in front of him: 148 ships, large and small, a vast mass of vessels filling the wide bay. Bustling between them were the two smaller escorts. The whole scene was an expression of economic strength—and vulnerability. If Britain could preserve this great stream of trade goods arriving and leaving the kingdom, her survival was assured. If not, the end of this cataclysmic war would not be far off.

At last Lady Ann slewed and hove to, but her actions had meant Tenacious had moved well out of station and had to heave round back to the assembly points. Her captain was fuming, his officers on edge and the ship's company thoroughly bad-tempered.

The last of the joiners came through the harbour entrance, past Black Rock and into the open sea. "Convoy will proceed," roared Houghton, glaring at his signal lieutenant as though it was all his fault.

Kydd found the place in the signal book, and hastily shouted the hoist to those at the taffrail flag-locker. Flags were bent on, soaring up the halliards as the thump of their fo'c'sle gun drew attention to them.

"Have they acknowledged yet?" snapped Houghton.

Kydd had his telescope up, trying to locate Trompeuse and Viper, just two sail among so many.