Checking yet again that the cat and fish falls were led properly along the deck, Kydd watched the anchor buoy inching towards the ship until the buoy boat grappled it. The process grew slower the steeper the angle of cable, until at last it was up and down.
‘Short stay,’ he growled at a seaman, who whipped up a white flag. The quarterdeck at the other end of the ship now knew that the anchor was ready to be tripped from the sea-bed. It would be essential to loose sail the instant this happened, the ship under way and therefore under control immediately; otherwise she would simply drift with the wind.
All waited in a tense silence. Kydd looked over the fat beakhead. The cable had stopped passing in, and he could imagine the savage struggle taking place at the capstan.
Suddenly the cable resumed its movement and Kydd sensed the ship feel her freedom. ‘She’s a-trip,’ he snapped. The man’s arm came down. With anchor aweigh Tenacious was now no longer tethered to the land. She was at sea.
Houghton’s voice sounded through the speaking trumpet. Sail dropped from yards and staysails jerked aloft. He was taking a chance that the remainder of the cable would be heaved in and the anchor duly catted by the powerful tackle before the ship got too much way on. Kydd looked over his shoulder down the deck; when he saw Houghton’s challenging figure, he knew he must not fail.
The first ripple of water appeared about the stem at the same time as the inches-thick anchor ring broke surface. ‘Stoppers!’ roared Kydd. It was now a race to uncouple the anchor from the cable and heave it clear of the water before the wake of the ship established itself. ‘Hook on!’ He leaned over the side to see. Men were furiously passing the stoppers on the cable, which would then be ready for hauling in at the hawse. He wheeled round, and cannoned into the second lieutenant, winding him.
‘Have a care, damn you, sir!’ Bampton said venomously.
‘Aye, sir.’ Kydd burned; the officer had no right to be there in a difficult operation for which he had no responsibility. The situation was well in hand: on hearing the ‘hook on’ the quick-witted fo’c’sle party had, without orders, taken the strain and begun hauling vigorously on the big cat-fall. Kydd had seen Poulden’s leadership in this and blessed his recommendation to have the seaman transferred from the waist.
The squealing of sheaves stopped as the anchor rose to the projecting cathead. ‘Well there, the cat.’ It had done its duty by hoisting the anchor out of the sea. He turned back to the side and called down: ‘Pass th’ ring-painter – get that stopper on fast!’ The three and a half tons of forged black iron was now being buffeted by passing waves.
There was a problem with the stoppering, the ropes passed to restrain the great weight of the cable. A hundred pounds in every six feet, it was a slithering monster if it worked free. Another fo’c’sleman swung round the beakhead to help, but with the vessel now under way and a frothy bow-wave mounting, the situation was getting out of control.
‘Poulden!’ Kydd barked. ‘Get down an’ get the fish-tackle on.’ The tall seaman dropped to the swaying anchor and, balancing on its arms like a circus acrobat, took the fish-tackle and applied it firmly below the inner fluke.
Kydd’s early intervention enabled the anchor to be hauled up sideways out of the race of water while the crossed turns at the cable were cleared away.
‘Walk away with the fish, y’ sluggards!’ Kydd ordered, satisfied. He had been right: Tenacious was a sea-kindly ship, her regular heave on the open sea reminiscent of a large frigate, even if there was more of the decorum of the mature lady about her.
Kydd lingered on the fo’c’sle after the party had secured. The hypnotic lift and crunch of the bows was soothing and he closed his eyes for a moment in contentment – but when he opened them again he saw four seamen looking at him resentfully.
Straightening, he took off his hat, the sign that he was there but not on duty, and left; it was their fo’c’sle and the men off watch had every right to their relaxation. He no longer belonged there: he had left their world and entered a higher one, but in its place did he now have anything that could provide the warmth and companionship he had enjoyed before?
On the way back, as he passed the belfry, there was a sharp clang: seven bells of the forenoon watch. Until safely anchored once again there would always be, for every hour of the day or night, a full complement of hands taking care of the ship, keeping watch and ward over their little community in the endless wastes of ocean.
Kydd was due to go on duty with Mr Bampton as officer-of-the-watch and himself as second. He made his way to the quarterdeck, where the captain held conference with the first lieutenant. They paced along the weather side, deep in conversation, while Kydd waited respectfully on the leeward.