Pitt broke off to cough wretchedly into a handkerchief. The table waited watchfully while he gulped some port, then resumed hoarsely, 'And we got ominous news this morning. Every available Thames pilot has been rounded up and is being held prisoner by the mutineers! I need not remind the landlubbers among us that the shoals of the estuary are among the worst in the civilised world — the implications of this move are therefore quite clear: the mutineers are holding their ships in readiness to deliver them up across the Channel to the Netherlands perhaps, or even France.'
'They wouldn't dare!' Spencer said, aghast.
Pitt spared him a withering look and continued: 'I have summoned the House to an all-night sitting this night — following our meeting,' he added significantly. 'I'm exercised as to what I shall tell them . ..'
Unexpectedly, it was Grey who spoke first. 'Har-rumph. May I take it, sir, that we must end this farce at once? Precipitate, right? Then you've only the one choice. Close with the buggers and finish 'em now, and be damned to the caterwauling of the press.'
'And just what is it you propose, General?' Pitt said silkily.
'Like this.' He would get a fair hearing — his first combat was with Wolfe on the plains above Quebec nearly forty years before. 'We act with resolution and despatch. We have infantry at Gravesend, reinforced by artillery from Woolwich. They combine with the Tilbury artillery across the water to cover the approaches to London. The Warwicks are at Chelmsford, they move down to mass around the crossing at Purfleet. I can do more, but I need m' adjutant and maps. Now, sir, how reliable is your North Sea fleet? Hey?'
'Admiral Duncan sees no reason to doubt other than they will do their duty when called upon, sir,' said Spencer, frostily.
'Then this is what happens. You an' your board take coach to Sheerness. Let 'em know you're coming, calm 'em down. When you're there talkin' your North Sea ships sweep in from seaward an' take 'em, while I get together what troops I can an' go in from the land. Hey?'
Spencer wiped his forehead. 'Are you seriously proposing that we resolve this matter in a public battle between our own ships right outside our own capital?'
'I do! If necessary. They, of course, may well desire to capitulate on seein' our force.'
Pitt leaned forward. 'I like it. Any objections?' He looked about the table.
'Sir, if you'll forgive—'
'Mr Windham?'
"The country at large may well laud your decisive action. But do you not feel that the more, er, clamorous of the radicals may object?'
'Pah! The saintly and ancient Tom Paine himself is in France this minute, lecturing the Jacobins on the conduct of their revolution, he's a broken reed. Godwin is lying low for the sake of his wife Mary Wollstonecraft, Cobbett is safely away in America writing some damn-awful paper called the Porcupine or some such — and Fox, well, after today he's vowed to leave the Commons for ever, if we can believe it.
'But I take your point. Let's leave it like this. We stay our hand, offer them their pardon. If they then accept and return to duty, well and good. If not, they suffer the full consequence of their acts.
'Very well! General, please begin your deployments without delay. This has to end for them.'
'How do I appear, my friend? Fit for the great day, in full feather?' Parker had taken extra care with his appearance, laying aside his cherished beaver hat in favour of a pristine seaman's round hat, his customary boots polished and smart. 'It'll do, Dick,' Kydd said.
'My greatest day, in truth,' Parker said, face aglow. He continued, as if to himself, 'It will be a hard struggle.
The hardest will be not to lose countenance before the person of the First Lord, and jeopardise the quality of the negotiations.'
'You won't — he it will be who has the harder, o' course. President o' the delegates is a high enough office.'
Parker pulled a fob watch from his waistcoat. 'I do believe that our time is come. Be so good as to advise the delegates and muster the boat's crew.'
Kydd had also taken care with his appearance. It would definitely be the first and, very probably, the last time that he would catch sight of the ultimate head of the navy, the legendary First Lord of the Admiralty.
'They shall have constituted their board by now,' Parker said, in the boat. The other delegates were subdued, but defiandy wore their red ribbons. Many more followed in boats behind, determined to be present at the historic occasion.
They stepped out on the wharf, marched resolutely to the commissioner's residence, and assembled in the foreyard. The vast flag of Admiralty, only flown by the Lord High Admiral of England, floated from the central staff of the mansion.
Kydd held his breath: this was the moment for which they had put themselves in the shadow of the noose.
With every eye on him, Parker walked up to the black door and knocked. It was immediately opened by Admiral Buckner.