He hesitated, then turned to Kydd once more. Bowden translated: ‘Sir, he says that, after consideration, he finds that if we keep out of the port the terms of the treaty are not in violation. And, sir, he wishes us an enjoyable visit.’
The shouts of approbation that followed forced a smile from the officer, who clambered aboard his donkey, lifting his hand in farewell. Just at that moment three great ships-of-the-line came into view, filling the pretty bay with their warlike majesty and unanswerable presence.
The officer nearly fell off the donkey in fright. Kydd said quietly, ‘I dare t’ say, our admiral would be satisfied with the usual salutes…’
Nelson brought his battered flagship to rest, then signalled, ‘captains to report condition of ships for sea’. In addition to the usual readiness statement, an assessment of storm damage was required, and Tenacious hastened to comply.
For her junior lieutenant this meant accompanying the boatswain and carpenter on their rounds, a task congenial to Kydd’s heart as it was an opportunity to make a closer acquaintance of his ship.
They began at furthest forward and, in a borrowed pair of sailor’s trousers, Kydd was soon out on the eighty-foot length of the bowsprit with the two warrant officers. His experience in a Caribbean dockyard had shown him the difference between the dark, weathered fissures in timber a shipwright would call a ‘shake’ and therefore ignore, and the long bright-sided splits that would betray the much more serious condition of a sprung spar. He inched along the jibboom horse, careful to check under as well as above.
The foremast came next. They used a girt-line with a boatswain’s chair at each side of the mast to close-inspect the fat timbers of the foremast, a ‘made’ mast constructed of several pieces keyed together instead of a single length of timber. It was unlikely to have sprung, and they moved on quickly from the foretop to the topmast.
As they worked, Kydd noticed the deference Pearce, the hard boatswain, was according the carpenter. Both were standing officers – they would remain with Tenacious even when put into reserve – and had been together for years. Kydd had never paid much attention to the carpenter, who figured on no watchbill and went about his business with little fuss.
They spread out over the yards, the older men moving deliberately while Kydd attended to the pole royal mast, and then it was time to move to the mainmast. As they inched out on the main-yard the double strikes of eight bells sounded, announcing grog and dinner for the hands.
The job had to be finished but Kydd could not in all conscience order the other two men to press on without something to eat. He leaned over the big spar and hailed the deck. ‘Mr Rawson, ahoy!’ The midshipman looked upward. ‘Be s’ good as to light along some scran for us – we’ve a job still t’ do aloft.’
The upper yards were completed and they descended to the maintop just as a hand waved through the lubbers’ hole from below. Kydd went over. It was Bowden, weighed down with a seaman’s mess-kid slung round his neck. He took the steaming vessel, realising that it must have taken considerable resolve for the raw lad to make the climb. ‘Where’s Mr Rawson? I told him to bring this.’
‘Ah, he had other duties that pressed, sir,’ Bowden said neutrally. Kydd suspected that Rawson had coerced Bowden into making the climb, hoping for a spectacular disaster. Bowden disappeared, but then a younger midshipman popped into view, passing up a bag containing a loaf of bread, local oranges and mess-traps.
Kydd was quietly pleased at Bowden’s climb up the mast and his initiative in co-opting another midshipman, who had not finished yet: he extracted a bottle of claret from his coat. ‘Your servant said t’ give you this.’
Kydd spread out his victuals. ‘Gentlemen, shall we dine?’ The boatswain hesitated before he dipped his bread into the common pot. ‘Mr Feakes, if y’ please?’ Kydd encouraged the carpenter, who bent to his plate. ‘You’ve been carpenter aboard f’r some years, I believe?’ he asked.
‘Aye, sir. Since launch.’
‘That’s before th’ war, then.’
‘Sir.’
‘Bin wi’ the old girl at the First o’ June, he was,’ Pearce put in admiringly. ‘An’ with Cybele in India.’
The Glorious First of June – the first great fleet action of the war, and both Feakes and Tenacious had been there. Kydd looked at Feakes; there was no sign of those momentous, dangerous times on his lined face and he warmed to the old sailor.
Kydd felt the stout bulk of the mainmast at his back as he took in the stately soaring of stays and shrouds, halliards and pendants in their precise curves, the sweetness of the deck-line from high above as it passed from bowsprit to old-fashioned stern. This was a ship to love, to remember with fondness down the years. He felt a curious pang as he thought about Feakes and Tenacious growing old together.