Parker leaned back. 'You see? They are now free to express their loyalty to a cause that before they could not. I will not hide it from you — when we rose, we had the advantage of surprise for success. In this way the rising was bloodless, direct. We no longer have this luxury. A ship may be in a tyranny, the seamen unable to throw off the trammels, but if then a superior argument is brought to bear, they are released to stand for their beliefs, and equally bloodless. You see?' 'But with guns?'
'Just so.' Parker sighed and steepled his fingers. 'There is no escaping the imperatives of cold reason, my friend. You will agree that our cause is just, pure in motivation, the higher matter?'
'O' course.'
'And for this task we must set to, heart and hand, until it is finished?' 'Aye.'
'Then we have the choice. Either we bow to the forces who oppose us, and allow them to carry off in despotism the very souls we are striving to serve, or we righteously show our determination, and make it possible for them to spring free of their shackles.'
Kydd looked away, searching for objections. 'Ye're in th' right of it, as usual, Dick,' he came back. 'If we don't show firm, then it's t' betray y'r shipmates, an' that I'll never do.'
'It may be,' Parker added softly, 'that we could be forced into some even more difficult choices before we prevail.'
The day had turned to bright sunshine, and ashore families were enjoying picnics on the grassy slopes of the old fort. Boats criss-crossed the anchorage, ship-visiting, going to parades ashore, bringing delegates to Sandwich.
Parker greeted Kydd warmly. 'If you please, my friend, we have a Parliament committee in the Great Cabin, and I would be happy for you to attend, in the character of a scribe or some such.'
Parker clearly relished his role. As the delegates arrived he was punctilious as to seating and precedence based on size of ship, and greeted each with grave politeness or hearty welcome according to temper.
Kydd sat at the other end of the table, preparing to take minutes in the best way he could. Farnall was there, representing Achilles, and looked down the table at him several times, but did not speak.
The rumpled, middle-aged John Hulme reported Director quiet with Captain Bligh still aboard and in his cabin, the mutineer captain of Proserpine complained of short stores and Davis of Sandwich drily told the committee of one Thomas McCann. He had apparently been sent ashore sick, complained loudly of the lazaretto beer and returned to Sandwich; when his messmates sent him to another ship's sick quarters he had said he was afraid of the ship's butcher — he had helped duck the man the day before.
Daily details dealt with, Parker turned to the more congenial task of further codifying the regulations. This was not particularly to the liking of most, who were visibly bored, but Parker and Farnall obviously enjoyed the cut and thrust of debate, the points of order, seconding of motions and the like. Kydd industriously covered the exchanges, but did not bother with the explanations demanded by baffled sailors.
Parker's expression hardened. 'While Mr Kydd prepares a fair transcript of the regulations for copying, it is my sad duty to have to tell you that James Watt, in flagrant contravention of our regulations for conduct, was taken in drink in the orlop. Now I don't have to tell you that if there is a general breakdown in discipline then—'
'Flog the bugger!' Hulme was in no doubt.
Parker looked pained. 'First we must have a trial, at which—'
'Fuck me, we'll be 'ere all day. I vote we flogs 'im an' done wi' it. Who says "aye"?' 'You can't just—' 'Aye!'
The forceful shout drowned Parker, who looked around darkly. 'How will—'
'I'll do it m'self, the useless skulker! Anythin' else, mates?' There being no further business, the meeting adjourned.
Kydd arrived at the Chequers, weary from his unaccustomed writing, just as the sunny afternoon was giving way to a warm dusk. He found Parker in fine form, the centre of a crush of seamen. Kydd smiled, letting his friend do what he did best, and settled at a distance. 'Shant o' y'r best,' he threw at the pot-boy. He was looking forward to visiting Kitty: she would be finished with her work at sundown. The beer arrived, dark and foaming, and he took a grateful pull.
He looked idly about: there were few he knew — one or two Achilles, a Sandwich or three. The Chequers was known as the rendezvous of the delegates, and Kydd could think of many who would be too apprehensive to enter. The buzz of talk and Parker's high voice droned on, and Kydd started to nod off. A noise outside did not register, and a young seaman burst into the room shouting: 'It's true, I swear it! It's all over, mates, an' we got what we want!' The room broke into a babble of excitement.
'Gangway, yer mundungo-built beggar! Let's see what it's all about.'
The crowd about Parker deserted him instantly and surrounded the ecstatic sailor. 'Spithead - they got it all setded! They gets pay. 'n' all - an' a full pardon, damn me eyes! Black Dick Howe 'imself signed the paper.'