Kydd pounded his fist with glee and swung his telescope back to Fornells. There was chaos in the town – no doubt news had reached them of the landings in Addaya. It gave him a piquant thrill to think that while the signal station above them was frantically passing the dread news, his own signals beneath were having their contrary effect.
What was more significant were the soldiers now pouring out of the fort and flooding down the road. Where were they going? Were they reinforcements for Addaya? Whatever, this called for a ‘negative’ and ‘heading for Fornells’ and Kydd briskly plied his red shirt, the bodice again and a woman’s shift.
When this had been completed he turned his attention back to Addaya. The experienced Highlanders had stormed ashore and he could catch the glint of their bayonets as they spread out in the brush. They were not meeting much resistance and Kydd saw why: the rough road away was streaming with soldiers in disorder – they were falling back, not prepared to be cut off in a heroic last stand. That would be a definite ‘negative’, ‘troops at Addaya’, then.
Now the road from Fornells was streaming with men moving away – no question that these were reinforcements for Addaya: this was a ‘negative’, then ‘troops at Fornells’, and suddenly Kydd realised his job was done.
‘Sir – they’re abandoning Fornells.’
‘Or reinforcing Addaya.’ Stuart was not to be stampeded. The landings at Addaya appeared to be well in hand – Duckworth had a repeating frigate relaying news from there – but there was every reason to expect the Spanish to throw everything into a savage counter-attack.
The signal lieutenant reported once more: ‘Sir, they’re on the retreat from Addaya.’ Stuart harrumphed and stalked up and down, but there was no mistaking his look of triumph.
Commodore Duckworth, however, was not so easily satisfied. He left the general, moved to the lee side of the quarterdeck and called the signal lieutenant to him. ‘This is damned irregular, sir! I have not seen you refer once to your signal book and all the time you’re advisin’ the general of the conduct of the war. Where is this shore station you say is passin’ the signals?’
‘Er, I think Mr Midshipman Bowden can answer to your satisfaction, sir.’
Bowden touched his hat respectfully and explained: ‘Mr Kydd found it impractical to rig a mast and halliards ashore, sir, but conceived of a private code. If you’d take the telescope and spy out the top of Mount Toro – yes, sir, more to the top of the outside wall at the end – there you’ll see his last hoist.’
‘I see a Spanish signal mast, none else.’
‘If you’d look a little lower, you’ll find hanging out the three-flag hoist, “negative”, “at Addaya”.’
‘I see nothing of the sort! Only…’
‘Yes, sir. A red Minorquin shawl, a black bodice and a blue pair of men’s pantaloons.’
‘Explain, damn you, sir!’
‘Mr Kydd reasoned that everything the general had to know could be sent by two significations, the first, location, being one of Fornells, Addaya or Mercadal, the other to be the military event, being one of marching towards, or massing at, the location. It requires then only a “negative” prefix to reverse the meaning and the code is complete.’
‘And the flags?’
‘We could not use our flags. It would have alerted the Spanish. And, as you can see, sir, the distance is too great to make out detail. Therefore he used colours: in this way he could make use of anything, as long as the colour could be distinguished. Red for “negative”, white for “marching towards”, blue for “Addaya”.’
‘Yes, yes, I see. Most ingenious. Hmm – I look forward to making further acquaintance of Lieutenant Kydd.’
From his eyrie Kydd watched marines make their way ashore in Fornells; they would take possession of the forts and the English would be established irrevocably ashore. It was certain to be victory – and he had played a central part in it. With a welling of contentment he raised the spyglass again to watch the consolidation at Addaya.
‘We must go,’ Isabella said, distracted.
Kydd could not tear himself from his grand view, and the thought of another night in a dank cave was not appealing. He remembered that the next planned move was a march on Mercadal close by. If the English forces had reached so far already then it was more than probable they would reach the town and Monte Toro the next day.
He would sit it out where he was. ‘Isabella – if y’ understands – I’d like t’ see how it ends. Can y’ ask José if I could stay here tonight?’