The Privateer's Revenge Page 12

  “S-sir!” Kydd pleaded. “Don’t open it in front o’ the others, I beg.” Was he going mad?

  Saumarez paused, looking at Kydd keenly. “Then I’ll clear the room. All except Captain Fellowes to withdraw and remain outside.” He waited until the three were alone. “Now we open the chest. Please oblige us, Captain.”

  Fellowes cut the cords then threw back the lid. Saumarez took a sharp breath as the contents were revealed—bundles of intricately worked lace and silk goods.

  “I—this is . . .” Kydd could find no words.

  Saumarez drew himself up, his features suddenly old and weary. “Take this officer to the blue room,” he said dully. “I will deal with him presently.”

  Kydd tried to make sense of it. In just a single hour his entire world had been turned upside-down. Why was Saumarez denying his own orders? Had the secret chest been waylaid and a substitute made for him to convey unwittingly in its place? How had the searchers known where to find it? Should he send for Renzi? Or wait until things became clearer? There was every possibility that Saumarez was even now finding out the truth of the matter and he didn’t want to involve his ship or any aboard unless he had to.

  It seemed an interminable wait and his mind wandered to concern over Teazer and her condition after her recent voyage. He must have that fore topmast seen to. When it had come down to the deck for exercise the carpenter had shaken his head over a fissure in the timber, and with the worn main tack having been turned end for end already he would need to do battle to win a new outfit for fore and main both. While they were at it, conceivably the chain-pump could—

  There was movement and discreet murmuring in the adjoining room, the scraping of chairs, the authoritative voice of Saumarez.

  The flag-lieutenant’s face appeared. “Sir, if you’d be so good as to present yourself . . .”

  Kydd followed the officer. Around a long table faces turned towards him, Saumarez at the head, Fellowes to his right—and Carthew, others. Kydd was ushered to the opposite end to face his commander-in-chief.

  “Gentlemen.” Saumarez seemed to have difficulty bringing out the word, “gentlemen, I would have you in no way misled as to the nature of this meeting. It is by way of an inquiry only, and has no legal standing. If there is cause enough shown then such proceedings may follow in due course, but for now I wish only to establish the facts at hand.”

  He looked gravely down the table. “Commander Kydd. You should know that an information was passed to me recently that you were abusing your position as captain of one of His Majesty’s ships to set up in trading on your own account, to the detriment of the honest merchants of these islands and to the dishonour of the service.”

  “Sir, who told you—”

  “Mr Kydd! Although this is no court of law you would oblige me by remaining silent until called upon to speak, sir.” There was an edge of steel to his tone that Kydd had never heard before and he fell silent, but it was an outrageous accusation and he would soon set matters right when the time came: with a commander-in-chief as morally sensitive as Saumarez, it would be an unforgivable abomination that would require the direst penalty.

  “My source was anonymous but brought forward facts that left me no choice other than to take further action. I’m sorry to say that the information was in the event proved correct and a search of your vessel has produced prima facie evidence to support the allegation.”

  Faces gazed at Kydd, some with interest, others neutral.

  “In view of your meritorious record to date in the service of the King, I am most reluctant to believe that you could be so far in want of conduct as to take advantage of your position. Therefore I wish to establish to my own satisfaction the true situation.”

  There was a stirring about the table as papers were laid before him. “Captain Fellowes,” Saumarez instructed, “detail for me your recent boarding of HMS Teazer .”

  Fellowes inclined his head and made to rise.

  “No, no, sir—this is not a formal gathering,” Saumarez said, with a quick glance at Kydd. “You may speak to me directly.”

  “Sir,” he began weightily, reading from notes, “pursuant to your order of the twenty-fifth, on the sighting of the said vessel and its subsequent mooring I proceeded—”

  “In plain English, if you please.”

  “Yes, sir. Er, this morning I and a party of men boarded HMS Teazer soon after it anchored in Guernsey Great Road. There I—”

  “Did you encounter any resistance—discouragement of your action?”

  “Er—no, sir. But when advised of the purpose of my visit, Commander Kydd became heated in his opposition to my action.”

  “Quite so,” Saumarez said drily.

  “But on showing him my authority for so doing he agreed, but attempted to divert my attention forward, away from his cabin, offering to lay open the hold. However, by virtue of the information supplied, my men proceeded straight to Commander Kydd’s private quarters where regrettably his servant offered violence to their entry and was forcibly subdued. The chest was found under his cot, as predicted.”

  “Were there any witnesses to the seizure?”

  “Petty Officer Crowe, or any of his party present, is prepared to swear as to where it was found.”

  “And then?”

  “It was hauled, unopened, to the upper deck, at which Commander Kydd became considerably agitated.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I cannot recall his exact words, sir, for the officer appeared incoherent, eventually claiming that the chest was of a level of secrecy that precluded its public display.”

  “And it remained unopened until brought here?”

  “All concerned will testify to its integrity, sir.”

  Kydd’s anger rose at the protracted affair and he made to interject but was stopped by Saumarez. “Commander, are you perhaps claiming that the chest and its contents are in fact for your own private consumption?”

  It was a lifeline—but if Teazer had been spotted near L’Anse Pivette by the informer, or his ship’s company testified to his bringing aboard a mysterious chest, he would be seen to have lied and then . . .

  “No, sir, I am not,” he said thickly. “I’m tryin’ t’ say—”

  “Later, sir. I find I must now establish a further point. Commander Carthew, did Teazer arrive at the rendezvous in a timely and proper manner?”

  Carthew looked uncomfortable, furtive almost. “Sir. Er . . .”

  “Come now, Mr Carthew, we can easily determine the answer from your people if necessary.”

  “Well, sir . . . then not exactly.”

  “Sir—your attempt to shield a brother officer does you credit, but we will have the facts, Commander.”

  “I’m truly sorry to have to say, sir, we were hove-to off Bréhat in wait for some . . . twenty hours after the appointed time.”

  “Thank you, Mr Carthew,” said Saumarez, looking squarely at Kydd. Dropping his eyes, he paused, then seemed to make up his mind. “Bring in Teazer’s sailing-master.”

  “Mr Dowse, sir.” The weatherbeaten mariner shuffled his feet but gazed resolutely ahead. He carried his own master’s log.

  “Information has been passed to me that Teazer was sighted two leagues off Cap de Flamanville and again close in under the Nez de Jobourg at the time her orders specifically required her to rendezvous off Bréhat. I note to my surprise that there is no entry in the ship’s log to this effect. Can you explain this?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Saumarez leaned back in expectation.

  “Mr Kydd, he said as how it were a secret mission, like, an’ not t’ trouble enterin’ it in th’ log.”

  “Do you have the true workings for those days?”

  “Aye.” Dowse steadfastly avoided Kydd’s eye.

  “And?”

  “As y’ said, sir. We closed wi’ the coast after dark at L’Anse Pivette an’ took aboard a—a object.”

  “Then?” prompted Saumarez.

 
; “Then we made all sail f’r the rendezvous.”

  “I see. You may stand down now, Mr Dowse,” Saumarez said tightly. “Is Mr Standish outside?”

  “He is, sir.”

  “Send him in.”

  Standish entered carefully, his eyes darting about the room. “Sir?”

  “Just one question, Mr Standish. What occurred at L’Anse Pivette?”

  Teazer’s first lieutenant glanced beseechingly at Kydd, then murmured, “Er, we anchored in the lee of the Race and, um, the captain took away a boat and two men an’ landed on the coast o’ France.”

  “You mean the captain went ashore alone but for two hands at the oars?”

  Standish looked stricken. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did he give any reason?”

  “N-none that I can recall, sir.”

  “Was he ashore long?”

  “He was away for only half an hour or so, sir.”

  “And when he returned?”

  “In the dark it was difficult to see, if you understand, sir.”

  “I will make my meaning plainer. Did he return with any object?”

  “It was covered with a boat-cloak, sir.”

  “And as officer-of-the-deck you didn’t even glimpse it as it was swayed aboard?” Saumarez said irritably.

  “It was the chest,” Standish admitted.

  “Good God!” Kydd exploded. “This has gone on long enough! Will no one hear me out?”

  With a pained expression the admiral replied, “I would be obliged if you would refrain from so using the Lord’s name in vain. Yet in all fairness you shall be heard. What is it that you want to say, sir?”

  Kydd held his temper fiercely in check: things were bad enough as they were without a confrontation. “Sir. This is y’r chest as ye gave orders f’r me to find an’ bring back. I can’t understand—”

  “Mr Kydd. This is the second time you have made this public accusation and I am finding it difficult to restrain my anger. I gave you no such orders, as well you know, and to be certain of this I have sent for your ship’s clerk under escort to bring me Teazer’s orders as received that I might verify their contents myself.”

  He glared at Kydd, then called, “Is—What is his name?”

  “Renzi, sir.”

  “Is this man in attendance yet?”

  “Sir.”

  “Tell him to step in—lively, now.”

  Renzi entered; his features were grave.

  “You are ship’s clerk of HMS Teazer?”

  “I am, sir.”

  “Have you the original orders for the voyage just concluded? Quickly, man!”

  Renzi unlaced the folder and handed them across. Kydd craned to see but Saumarez snatched them and scanned them. “What’s this? I see here no reference whatsoever to any secret dalliance, Mr Kydd,” he said sarcastically. “Pray tell by what means you are able to place such a wild construction on these perfectly straightforward instructions?”

  “Sir,” Kydd gulped, “there were sealed orders as well, an’ they—”

  “I have heard from my flag-lieutenant that your master’s mate Prosser duly signed out on these orders. You, Renzi, were you not responsible for their registering into the ship?”

  “Sir.”

  “You signed them in directly from Mr Prosser, did you not?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “And did you see them contain any sealed orders?”

  The room echoed its silence.

  “Did they? Answer me, sir.”

  If Renzi admitted to seeing them it would be to betray Kydd as having allowed him, a mere ship’s clerk, access to the highest level of confidentiality. And if he did not, Kydd would have not a single witness to testify to their existence.

  “Sir, I signed for the packet but immediately locked it into the captain’s confidential stowage,” Renzi said quietly, his face pale.

  “Sir—”

  “Mr Kydd?”

  “Sir. I find it monstrous that I’m being treated in this way. I did m’ duty t’ th’ best o’ my—”

  Saumarez bowed his head and held up his hand. “Clear the room,” he said. “I’ve heard enough. You will remain, Mr Kydd.”

  When they had left Saumarez looked at Kydd for a long moment before he spoke. “You! Of all the men of promise in my command—to stoop to venal acts as shabby as any.”

  Kydd tried to say something but it came out as a mumble.

  “And you think to obfuscate and temporise with wild tales that do you no credit whatsoever. I have to tell you, sir, I’m both shocked and greatly saddened by what has passed.” He sighed deeply and rose slowly from his chair. “And now I have to decide what to do with you.” He paced to the end of the room, then turned. “In view of your recent valour and service to my squadron I will not proceed in law, Mr Kydd.”

  “Th-thank you, sir.” There seemed nothing else to say.

  “However, I see no other course than to relieve you of your command as of this hour, Mr Kydd. You are not to return to your ship. Your effects will be sent ashore at your convenience. I will not have you as an example to my fleet. Good day to you, sir.”

  CHAPTER 8

  KYDD WAS VERY QUIET, unheeding of the hubbub that eddied around the inn’s taproom. The candle guttered, throwing the lines on his face into deep relief. Renzi felt uneasy. Would this sudden catapult into shame and an unknown future tip him back into unreality?

  “Ye didn’t have t’ do it, Nicholas,” he said eventually, his beer still untouched in the pewter tankard.

  “With Teazer in an uproar and all ahoo? Not as this would assist in a scholard’s ruminations.”

  Kydd raised his head. “Who is . . . ?”

  Renzi saw there was no point in prolonging it. “Kit Standish is made captain and Prosser an acting lieutenant.” The light died in his friend’s eyes and his head dropped. Renzi’s heart was wrung with pity. That a man could suffer two such blows in succession was grievous. That neither was of Kydd’s doing was so much the worse.

  “Did they land y’r books in good shape?” Kydd asked unexpectedly, breaking into Renzi’s thoughts. He had found an old sail-loft near the boatbuilders in Havelet Bay as a temporary store for their possessions, the familiar objects of a score of voyages on a dozen seas now hidden under drab canvas, waiting for . . . who knew what?

  “They did, bless them. Stirk made the boat’s crew bear them the full way, then insisted in making a seamanlike stow of them.” He hesitated, then added softly, “And wishes I might make known to you the true feelings of the ship’s company on your cruel and unjust treatment.”

  Kydd gave a tired smile. “You worry I’m ready t’ slip m’ cable, go astray in m’ wits—I know ye too well, ol’ friend.”

  His head drooped once more—but then he looked up suddenly and, with an appalling crash, both of his fists smashed on to the table. He held Renzi’s eyes with cold ferocity. “If it takes th’ rest o’ m’ life, I’m going t’ get revenge o’ this. I don’t know what it’s about, but y’ have my oath—someone’s t’ pay for it.”

  Renzi was taken aback. At first he could think of nothing to say; he had his suspicions but it was not the time to air them. He sought refuge in his glass, then said, “Perhaps we should give thought as to our future.”

  Kydd breathed deeply and forced himself into control. His knuckles were still white, and Renzi felt a fleeting pity for the perpetrator when his friend finally found him.

  “Er, what do ye suggest?”

  “Well, there’s nothing to keep us here,” Renzi said, “and I do recall we have the better part of a year’s lease left on number eighteen, all paid for, of course, and a pity to waste it.”

  “No!”

  “It’s comfortable and . . . it’s there,” Renzi finished lamely.

  “I’m not leavin’ here! Not until I’ve cleared m’ name an’ been taken back.”

  “Tom. Dear friend. You should not set your heart on this. I sadly fear it’ll prove a deep and fearful myster
y that may well be impossible to penetrate at our remove. Someone is out to ruin you, and has friends . . .

  “Consider—although you’ve been dismissed your ship, they’ve not succeeded in having you cashiered out of the Service. You’re unemployed, but still a commander, Royal Navy, and can be given a ship at any time—but not here while Admiral Saumarez remains in command.”

  “I stay,” Kydd hissed. “If I leave, I’ve got no chance o’ nobblin’ th’ bastard who did this. It’s here there’s th’ clues, an’ here I stay till I’ve laid him by th’ tail.”

  “I understand, brother,” Renzi said. “And since these islands are proving such a singular source of ethnical curiosities, so shall I stay too.”

  “I—I thank ye for it, Nicholas. I’ve taken rooms here as will serve.”

  He took a pull at his drink, then said, “This I don’t fathom, Nicholas. Why should Saumarez deny his own orders? He’s a square-sailin’ sort, treated me right well before.”

  “That’s easily answered. There were no sealed orders.”

  “I saw ’em wi’ my own eyes, Nicholas!”

  “Those were counterfeit, added to the original orders.”

  Kydd slumped back. “Why?”

  “As I said, to bring about your fall from grace and ruin in the most complete fashion possible. A masterly plot, it has to be admitted,” Renzi mused. He went on firmly, “I saw the orders were unopened: Prosser signed for them in due form in the admiral’s office and they were still unopened when I took them in charge. This implies that if there was anything untoward it was done in the admiral’s office.”

  “Then we clap on all sail an’ go—”

  “This will not be possible. Your presence will be resisted. More to the point, it will be to no purpose.”

  “I’ll sweat it out o’ th’ buggers—someone knows—”

  “It would appear, dear fellow, that anyone having influence in a commander-in-chief’s office and acting with confidence and a degree of familiarity, one admiral upon another, does in fact suggest—”

  “Lockwood!” Kydd recalled the man’s threats when he had chosen Rosalynd over his daughter.

  “I cannot dispute your conclusion. He has sworn to destroy you for what he imagines you’ve done concerning his family, and but for the respect you have already won from Admiral Saumarez, you would now be facing a court-martial and certain public ruination.”