Caribbee(13)

Having made their point, the squadron stood out to sea past the rumpled heights of the outlying island of Marie-Galante, with its cliffs and multitude of sugar-mills, then shaped course for Martinique, which they raised the following morning. This large island was the most important possession in the French Caribbean and Cochrane proceeded majestically on, in extended line ahead, past the volcanic peaks and crags of the west coast to the grand bay where lay the capital, Fort de France.

The port was well sheltered and spacious but Kydd had heard of the notorious banks and shoals that made it a hazard for any ship of size to enter, a problem to be faced if ever the British were to make an attempt on the island.

In light airs in the lee of the island, the battle-squadron passed by at a walking pace that a lone scouting frigate would never dare, giving plenty of time to contemplate the sights. There were ships by the score, some alongside at one of the three moles but most lay at anchor deep within the bay. Kydd lifted his glass: there inside were two small warships with no sail bent on.

Leaving, they passed close by the legendary Diamond Rock – silent now, but this impossibly steep conical monolith, only a mile or so off Martinique, had once been captured and fortified by the Royal Navy and commissioned as a sloop-of-war. They had caused havoc with shipping entering and leaving Fort de France until Villeneuve, with Nelson hot on his heels, had fatally delayed his battle-fleet to pound it into submission and then had fled back to Europe, his mission to bring destruction to the British Caribbean islands a total failure.

In shimmering seas they stretched south-east for another day and, late in the evening, made out the north point of Barbados. In the soft glow of a tropical dusk they sailed along it, the twinkling lights of homesteads and plantations vying for allure with the brilliant stars that seemed to hang so low.

The fleet arrived in Carlisle Bay to an impeccable night moor and, duty done, the Leeward Islands Squadron went to its rest.





Chapter 3




‘Only for a small visit, as it were, sir,’ Curzon, L’Aurore’s high-born second lieutenant, asked, in an uncharacteristically humble tone, ‘as will satisfy them on the particulars of our good ship.’

Kydd saw no reason why not. Curzon had relatives in Barbados and, no doubt, had said warm things about L’Aurore that had aroused their curiosity. And his was a post of some significance in the ship; he was quite entitled to bring visitors on board.

Then Kydd had an idea, one that, now they were part of the defending force, would reinforce the ship’s standing with the Barbadians.

‘Certainly you may, Mr Curzon. But not for a short time, sir, I will not allow it.’

‘Sir?’

‘If they cast about to muster a dozen others as well, then they shall all be our guests – at a quarterdeck ball.’

It was generally accounted a princely idea, and the news went about the ship like wildfire. While officers could rejoice in the honours of the ball, the seamen would be treated to the edifying spectacle of their betters sporting a toe. And it went without saying that the ship would require prettifying to a degree: it would not do for L’Aurore to be paltry before the rest of the squadron.

‘And I expect you to be forward in the matter of arrangements, if you please,’ Kydd told Curzon.

It was remarkable how the list grew. As a signals frigate, there was no shortage of gay bunting to drape about to soften warlike outlines – but how to indicate to the shore that flowers by the basket would be appreciated to place at the bitts and around the binnacle, and that a certain circumspection should be exercised in ballgowns in consideration of a frigate’s modest space about decks?

Naturally, midshipmen would be in attendance on the guests – but could they be fully trusted in the article of politeness, manners … decorum?

And music: in L’Aurore the Royal Marines were stout hands with fife and drum but a society evening seemed to need a little more. The capstan fiddler, perhaps?

Boatswain Oakley could be relied on to see the lower rigging triced up out of the way, but what about the training-tackle ringbolts for the nine-pounders? Avoided without thought by any sailor, these iron rings, set in the deck inboard, would prove a sad hazard for a lady with eyes only for her partner.

Kydd left these questions to Curzon, while he bent his attention to whom else he should invite. The governor might well take offence were he not included. And this was a major naval station: the commander-in-chief must be on the list, but which others? By order of seniority, the captains of the ships-of-the-line must rate first – some had their wives and daughters but in all they would probably outnumber the Barbadians. The military? He had a hazy idea that there were three regiments garrisoned, implying three colonels of the same substantive rank as himself, who would frown at an all-naval gathering in an entertainment-starved island. And then there was …