Julian Stockwin - 19 The Baltic Prize (Thomas Kydd #19)

‘Ah, I could not conceive of a more superior commander, my lord, than General Moore, late of Shorncliffe.’

‘Very well, let it be so. First Lord, a fleet to set before that of the Russians. One to command respect and dismay – I leave the numbers to you, bearing in mind that there is no funding in the Treasury for any undertaking on the scale of the creation of an entirely new standing fleet upon station.’

‘Sir,’ Mulgrave said, pained, ‘I do well comprehend the reasons for parsimony in expenditure, but may I be allowed to point out that we have a resource to call upon in the sea service that is not to be reckoned in terms of ships and guns. It is respect. We shall bring out such a company as shall be honoured and feared by any and all. The fleet that enters the Baltic shall be led as flagship by the immortal Nelson’s Victory and have numbered in it the most daring captains of our time. Keats of Superb , Codrington of Orion , Kydd of Tyger and—’

‘Under whose flag?’

The first lord of the Admiralty pondered. ‘For a command of such delicacy and with a seniority worthy of it, I cannot but put forward the name of Admiral Sir James Saumarez. He of St Vincent, the Nile, Algeciras – his honours place him among the foremost commanders of the day and he retains my complete confidence.’

‘I’ve never heard of him, but I let that pass,’ muttered the prime minister. ‘Know only that we have this day made shift to preserve the fortunes of this country and if any do fail us …’

Chapter 5

HMS

Tyger,

at anchor, the Great Nore

‘A good leave, Sir Thomas?’ Bray greeted Kydd.

‘Yes, a good leave, Mr Bray, thank you. Now, you have something for me?’

Tyger was in immaculate trim, and his first lieutenant’s assurance that they were stored and watered in expectation was what he’d hoped to hear. He was lucky with his uncompromising second in command.

They lost no time in going below to Kydd’s cabin to open the orders.

Dillon looked up from his work and smiled winningly. ‘A good leave, sir?’

‘Yes, yes, a good leave. Carry on, if you please.’

The order pack was very slim – those concerning a foreign commission of adventure and far roaming were fat with injunctions, signal instructions, coded challenges and so forth.

Kydd broke the seal and on a single sheet all was made clear. ‘We are no longer with the North Sea Squadron, Mr Bray.’

‘Sir?’

‘We’re to join a venture named the “Northern Expedition” assembling in Yarmouth, under the flag of Vice Admiral of the Blue Sir James Saumarez.’

Bray brightened. ‘Damme, but this sounds more my ticket,’ he growled happily. ‘Swinging around an anchor for a couple of months and not a smell o’ powder, it’s not Christian.’

‘Don’t get too exercised, Mr Bray – it looks like it’s going to be fleet work, under eye of a senior admiral.’

There was a knock at the cabin door and Bowden appeared. ‘Oh, I didn’t wish to disturb, sir.’ He waited pointedly.

‘Very well, come in and take your fill of the news,’ Kydd said, with resignation and a weary smile.

‘Thank you, sir. I trust you had a good leave?’

‘Very fine, Mr Bowden, very fine. We’re off to Yarmouth to join an expedition and—’ He broke off at another knocking. ‘Come.’

Brice entered, his expression guileless. ‘Watch-on-deck mustered and correct, sir,’ he said crisply. Then he added shyly, ‘Did you have a good leave, sir?’

‘Be damned to it!’ Kydd spluttered. ‘I’ve a mind to turn up the ship’s company to tell ’em all at once that I had a thundering good leave, thank ’ee.’

The assembly date for the expedition was still three days away but Kydd was keen to know what was in the wind. ‘We proceed in the morning, Mr Bray. Ship is under sailing orders.’

‘Aye aye, sir!’

As his officers left the cabin, Kydd’s thoughts turned to Saumarez. He’d first known him while he’d been commander of the humble Teazer brig-sloop. So long ago now, another life, but he’d never forgotten the courtesy and understanding Saumarez had shown him at a particularly difficult time … and the wounding disappointment he’d made known in what he’d assumed was an incident of Kydd’s moral depravity.

Intelligent, a master of detail and with high expectations of his subordinates, Saumarez would be a fine but demanding commander-in-chief of whatever expedition this was.

The following day Yarmouth Roads were duly raised – and what a spectacle! It brought all Tyger ’s crew up to marvel at the biggest assembly of naval might any had seen since Britain had stood alone before Trafalgar – and, glory be, wasn’t that the grand old lady herself, HMS Victory , there at its centre?

‘Their lordships mean some mischief on the enemy, I’m thinking,’ breathed Bray, in admiration.

No less than a dozen battleships at anchor in fine array, their lines of guns a stern portent to any who might think to challenge the rule of the Royal Navy on the high seas.

‘Isn’t that Nelson’s Vanguard – astern of Implacable ?’

‘It is,’ Kydd confirmed. He would never forget witnessing Nelson’s selfless order, from that dismasted ship-of-the-line heading for the rocks, to Captain Ball of Alexander to abandon him and preserve his own vessel – and the stout refusal to obey orders that had finally saved Vanguard and the great admiral for further service to their country.

Joyce, the sailing master, rubbed his chin. ‘My eyes are on the barky yonder,’ he said with feeling.

‘ Orion ?’

‘Aye. Just think on it – she took her first knocks at the First o’ June, then St Vincent, an’ then the Nile before she’s there mauling Frenchies at Trafalgar. Seen her fair share of action, she has.’

Kydd recalled those fevered days. ‘Did you know that Saumarez was her captain at the Nile? Took a bad wound but kept on. I wonder what he’s thinking now.’

‘You were there, Sir Thomas?’

‘Yes, l’tenant only but saw much that night. There – Goliath . It was Foley who led us in, and it was he who had the almighty gall to sail inside their line of anchored ships, which saw us victorious that day.’

It was thrilling – and puzzling. Here was a constellation of names that had resounded down the years, battle-hardened veterans with the habit of victory. What audacious stroke was being contemplated that needed such a splendid band at its centre?

Chapter 6

‘The last, Sir Thomas,’ said Dillon, with a frown, bringing out the final piece of the morning’s paperwork. ‘And I ask pardon that I must trouble you with such a trifle.’

He handed it across. It was a short letter, painfully written in a child-like hand, dated that same day from HMS Brunswick , Yarmouth Roads, one of the 74-gun ships-of-the-line lying with the fleet.

Kydd glanced at the signature and rank. His eyebrows shot up in astonishment. A volunteer first class, addressing the captain of another ship? They were the lowest form of life, essentially apprentice midshipmen, performing menial tasks.

‘As I know your views on young gentlemen in a ship-of-war,’ Dillon added smoothly, ‘yet I believe deserving of a form of reply.’

Kydd scanned it quickly. ‘So the rascal wants to remove into Tyger . I’m not having it, of course.’