Tenacious(14)

Nelson gave Kydd a cold stare, before which he quailed. Then the gaze turned on the young woman and was transformed. ‘Why, my dear, you are to be gratified this instant,’ he said. ‘Do you now meet Admiral Nelson of the Blue, at once your devoted admirer!’ He bowed, then took her hand and kissed it. ‘Lieutenant, your discernment in the matter of beauty is to your credit, but I can only lament that it is much in evidence you have failed in your duty. This young lady is without the means of refreshment on this warm night.’

‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Kydd. He noted that the hand had not been released, bowed and went dutifully in search of some punch.

Tempers on deck were fraying in the hot night as Tenacious made ready for sea. ‘Get forrard this instant, damn your blood, sir!’ an officer threw at Bowden, as the hapless midshipman was jostled by men too busy to tell him where to go.

‘It’ll be stuns’ls, o’ course,’ the master said. Unable to risk the revealing bending of sail before the concealment of dark they were now faced with the task of sending up the long bolsters of canvas almost by touch. Casting under jib, as the large fore and aft sail mounted, it became plain from its limp flap that the light wind had backed even more easterly and they were once more held in the thrall of the Rock.

‘This will need more than stuns’ls,’ Houghton snapped. ‘I’d hoped we’d make our offing by dawn, but now…’

‘Sir, Vanguard is putting her boats in the water,’ Bampton said carefully. This implied a hard time for all.

‘Yes, I can see that,’ Houghton said irritably. ‘But what will they do?’ There was no question but that they must follow the motions of the admiral, and there were two alternatives he could take: tow the heavy warships out with every boat available, or warp out.

‘Their launch and large pinnace only in the water, sir.’

‘Then it’s to warp.’ He turned to the boatswain. ‘Mr Pearce, see to the launch and red cutter.’ They would lay out an anchor ahead of the ship and heave up to it using the capstan, then take it out and repeat the process, inching to sea by main force.

‘Mr Kydd, if you are at leisure you’d oblige me by taking away the launch,’ Houghton said. Adams was to have the cutter.

Hoisting out the heavy boat would take time, so Kydd went to his cabin to change into a comfortable sea-going rig, then mustered his boat’s crew. It was going to be hard, sweaty, painful work with the half-ton of the kedge anchor slung from the boat and the even bigger weight of the catenary of hawser stretching to the ship.

Kydd was glad to see Dobbie, a petty officer built like a prize-fighter, in his party. ‘Sir,’ he acknowledged, with a gap-toothed grin. ‘Better’n being down in th’ cable tiers.’ The familiarity would have irked some officers but since his ‘duel’ with Dobbie in Halifax – when the seaman had accused him of betraying the mutineers at the Nore, and Kydd, although an officer, had been prepared to defend his name in the time-honoured fashion of the lower deck – Kydd had reason to tolerate it. Besides, Dobbie was right: in a short while the job of the men coiling in the heavy, wet cable in the hot, fetid gloom of the orlop would be all but unendurable.

He turned to a boatswain’s mate. ‘Pass the word for Mr Bowden.’

‘Er, ’oo was that, sir?’

‘Mr Midshipman Bowden, if y’ please.’

The calls echoed down the ship. After some delay a breathless Bowden hurried up, managing to doff his hat and trip over at the same time. ‘M-Mr Kydd, sir?’ Even in the dimness the apprehension in his face was plain.

‘Please t’ accompany me in th’ launch.’ It would be instructive for Bowden to see men at the very extremity of labour.

The launch smacked into the water and was brought round to the side steps where it hooked on. The boat’s crew tumbled down the ship’s side and took their places.

‘A-after y-you, sir,’ Bowden said.

There was a stifled chuckle among the men on deck, and Kydd said, ‘No, lad, it’s after you. Senior gets in last, out first.’

Two capstan bars and a dark-lanthorn were handed down. The light was hot and smelly, but would be vital in the work to come. Kydd settled in the stern. There was no rudder for this work: Dobbie would handle the steering oar.

‘Shove off,’ growled Dobbie, to the dark figure of the bowman standing right forward. Obediently the boat-hook was wielded and they moved out into the calm, black waters, but it was only to ease down to the mizzen chains, where the kedge anchor was stowed.

‘If y’ pleases, sir,’ said Dobbie. Holding a capstan bar in each hand he motioned towards the midshipman’s unfortunate choice of seating in the centre of the boat.