Mutiny Read online

“If you please, Prime Minister.”

  “Good. Now, this is the essence.” Pitt’s pale, noble face was slashed with lines of strain.

  Windham wondered how any single person could take the whole weight of this utterly new kind of war, let alone keep aloof from the fierce political brawling in the Commons every day.

  “The situation abroad is critical.” Taking up his port Pitt gestured to Grenville to continue.

  “Indeed. Since Rivoli the Austrians have lost heart. I now find they are parleying secretly with General Buonaparte for peace, their price Venice—which, of course, is now in his gift. We’ve been thrown out of the Mediterranean, not a ship farther in than Gib, and we find that the French by autumn will be in occupation of the left bank of the Rhine. This is something that last happened a thousand years ago.” Grenville stopped, and looked grimly about the table. “In short, we’ve not a single friend left. The coalition is finished.”

  Pitt put down his glass with extreme care. “The whole business of war has put an intolerable stress on our resources. The national debt frightens me, and I won’t hide it from you, gentlemen, that unless a miracle occurs or we can think of a radical new way of taxing, we shall be bankrupted.”

  The Home Secretary muttered indistinctly; the others stared grimly.

  “You will ask what more can happen—then I shall tell you. If our standing abroad is so sadly diminished, our domestic is worse. Those bad harvests leave us with precious little to show for four years of war, we are balanced on a knife edge of economics, but our precious trade, the life-blood of our islands, this is to be guarded with all we have. And we nearly lost it all to those mutinous wretches at Spithead. Fortunately, they’ve been appeased, and Dundas tells me the Channel fleet is now back at sea again. A damn near thing, gentlemen, for a run-on. ’Change would ruin us in every chancellery in Europe.”

  His eyes glazed, and he made a visible effort to recruit his strength. “Now, it seems, we have a new mutiny, this time at the Nore. I was assured—the Admiralty were confident—this would blow over just as soon as we’d acceded in the Spithead case. But now, far from returning to duty, they’re making new demands and saying our general pardon doesn’t cover them. The admiral in those parts—that useless ninny—says that guns have been fired at a King’s ship, and the Sheerness fort has been bombarded.

  “My friends, this is a far more serious matter altogether. Grenville has unimpeachable intelligence that the Dutch are preparing a major fleet challenge from the Texel at the goading of the French. If they succeed by our ships useless at their moorings, then they can within hours secure the Channel for a massed landing. If they get wind of this mutiny it will be all up with us, I fear.”

  He finished his port in one and set down his glass. “I—we cannot withstand a second mutiny and consequent concessions. This administration would certainly fall. Added to which, each hour the mutineers are free to strut about is encouragement to every crackpot radical in the land. As we talk, Sheerness is en fête for their mutinous heroes, and the garrison is now considered unreliable. What we are faced with must be accounted the worst crisis I have ever encountered.

  “So, I want suggestions, plans, strategies, anything, but this rising must be stopped—now! Charmed or crushed, it has to be over speedily and the ringleaders punished, visibly. I trust I’ll have your strongest recommendation for action.

  “Oh, and quite incidentally, I have the Lord Chancellor’s ruling on the applicability of the King’s Pardon to the Nore. It is that the mutineers were right in the essentials, their offenses are indeed not within the purview of the Spithead pardon.”

  * * *

  “Th’ poxy, slivey, cuntbitten shicers!” Hulme would not be consoled.

  “An’ so say we all,” Kydd agreed, with feeling. “Dick, I owns y’ was right. I’d never have thought ’em shabs enough f’r that grass-combin’ move. If we’d accepted th’ pardon we could all be—Well, we didn’t.” It was a low blow, a cold-blooded act of policy. “We stands fast,” Kydd said sturdily.

  “Yes, Tom, the only thing we can do.” Parker seemed to find strength in Kydd’s words, and raised his voice: “Do you all listen! We know where we stand now. There’s no going back, lads. We either win or die.

  “The ancient Romans carried a bundle of sticks to show to all that one stick might be taken and easily broken, yet all taken together you may not break them. And when Benjamin Franklin put pen to the Declaration of Independence, he swore that ‘now, indeed, we must all hang together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately.’

  “Now, there are some—we may hazard who—are, as one might say, lacking in zeal. There are some who would let others risk all to win for them while they keep in with the authority. Still more are thinking to desert their shipmates. These are a danger and peril to all of us. We have to take steps to prevent them loosening our unity—by any means. If necessary, by compulsion!

  “Joe, I want you and your mate to spend your hours visiting each ship. See yard-ropes are rove and the Bloody Flag flies high and free! All hands to wear a red ribbon in his hat in token of our struggle.

  “Cap’n Davis, every morning at sunrise, the men of Sandwich are to clear lower deck and give three rousing cheers. And you entertain on board every Thames pilot you can find—they shall not remain at large and free to navigate any foolish expedition the government thinks to send against us.

  “There is a special service awaiting Brother Hulme. Word has been passed to us that in the Thames beyond Tilbury, at Long Reach, lies Lancaster sixty-four and others. We mean to set them free to drop down-river to join our company. You may use any measures to secure the ships against those who would wish to maintain their tyranny.

  “And to all you brave hearts, it is now time to take courage. Let none doubt that we are resolved—at the cannon’s mouth, if need be—to stay true to our cause.”

  There was a breathless silence in the Great Cabin, then Blake scrambled to his feet. “An’ it’s three times three fer our Pres-i-dent Parker! Let’s hear it, y’ shabs!” The cheers echoed deafeningly while Parker sat, red with pleasure, eyes sparkling.

  “An’ then we toasted like good ’uns damnation to their lordships ’n’ Pitt ’n’ his scurvy crew!” Kydd laughed.

  Kitty did not join in. “Thomas—please! Ye have to know, people are afraid. They know y’ don’ have the pardon an’ they’re worried f’r what yell do now. An’ some of y’ sailors are takin’ boats ’n’ landin’ in Whitstable ’n’ Faversham t’ kick up a bobbery. Honest folks ’r’ now takin’ agin you, m’ love.”

  Kydd’s heart softened at the genuine worry in Kitty’s face. “M’ dear Kitty,” he said softly, holding her tight, “it’ll all be over soon—we’re united, see, and they has t’ treat wi’ us. An’ the first thing we asks afore we talks is a right full pardon fr’m the King.”

  She dropped her eyes and, in a muffled voice, said, “I know you, Thomas. You’ll be true t’ the end, th’ last one t’ yield, an’ then they’ll take y’ up as a ringleader, an’ then—an’ then …” She turned away and wept.

  A cold wave stole over Kydd. Women often had a second sight denied to men. “Come, now, Kitty, that’s a fine carry-on f’r a man t’ take away. Mark my words, lass, I’ll wager their lordships ’ll be down here, and a-treatin’ with us, like they did in Spithead, in only a day or so,” he said strongly. But the chill feeling stayed.

  “Did he, by God!” Parker heard the seaman out, his face darkening. “Is he not aware who is the power in this anchorage? Does he think to top it the mandarin in our presence? Pass the word for Bill Davis, if you please, Tom, we’re going ashore to set straight our Admiral Buckner.”

  The barge glided in to the steps, and the president of the delegates and his staff stepped ashore. They strode directly across to the fort gate, ignoring the sentry, and went straight to the commissioner’s house. “Mr. Parker, president o’ the delegates, t’ see the Admiral,” Kydd told the flag lieutenant at the door.r />
  “He is not to be disturbed,” the officer replied, his face tight.

  “He’ll see Mr. Parker now,” Kydd said, moving closer.

  “Impossible. He’s hearing charges at this moment.”

  Parker stiffened. “Why do you think we’re here, sir?” He moved closer.

  “Very well. I will tell the Admiral.”

  Parker did not wait. Following the lieutenant into the room, he stood, feet astride, surveying the occupants. “Captain Hartwell,” he acknowledged to the dockyard commissioner. “Captain Cunningham,” he added, seeing the captain of Clyde to one side. They glowered back at him.

  “Yes, what is it, Mr. Parker?” Admiral Buckner asked, obviously embarrassed.

  “You have two marines in your custody, I understand, Admiral,” Parker snapped. “Please to yield their persons to me.”

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Parker. These men were taken up in the town drunk and riotous, and as they are members of the Fleet it is of course my duty to detain them.”

  “That, sir, is precisely why I am here,” said Parker, in hard tones.

  “Sir?” Buckner’s voice was weak and unsure.

  Parker paced forward. “Sir, your flag no longer flies and your authority is now gone. These are then my prisoners and will be disciplined by the Fleet.”

  The old admiral’s face sagged. “Mr. Parker, my flag is struck, it is true, but, sir, consider my feelings.”

  Around the room there were expressions of astonishment at this display of emotion from so senior a personage.

  “I have feelings too, Admiral Buckner, and I do consider yours. I’m sorry to say it, but it’s not in my power to change things.”

  There was an appalled silence. Then a chair crashed to the floor as Captain Cunningham leaped to his feet and drew his sword. Kydd lunged across and seized his arm, smashing his wrist down on the chair back. The sword clattered to the floor.

  “You bloody dog!” Cunningham shouted. “I’ll run ye through, you base-born rogue! God rot your bones for a vile mutineer an’ blackguard!”

  Parker looked at the captain with contempt. “Have a care, sir. The men are not delicate in the matter of chastisement, should I put it to them.” He turned again to Buckner. “Admiral, we have not had an answer respecting the Board of Admiralty’s attendance on us. We will talk to no other, this is our solemn resolution.”

  Buckner’s reply was hastened aboard Sandwich by early afternoon.

  “Worthless, I knew it.” Parker dropped the letter to the table. “We can’t waste time talking to that feeble loon. We bring their lordships to account directly. A letter; be so good as to agree its wording …

  To the Lords Commissioners for executing the Office of Lord High Admiral of Great Britain and Ireland &c.

  I am commanded by the Delegates of the Whole Fleet assembled in council, on board His Majesty’s Ship Sandwich, to inform your lordships, that they have received your letter at the hands of Admiral Buckner, which informs them that it is not your intention of coming to Sheerness, the same has been communicated to His Majesty’s ships and vessels lying here, and the determination of the whole is, that they will not come to any accommodation until you appear at the Nore, and redress our grievances.

  Richard Parker, President

  By order of the Committee of Delegates of the Whole Fleet

  “There, that should start proceedings,” Parker said, with satisfaction.

  Kydd went below to the starboard bay as soon as he heard of the return of Hulme. Rumor had it that it had been quite an adventure to reach Lancaster.

  “Damme, but they wuz shyin’ hot shot at us fr’m Tilbury fort, mates. Think on it! Two longboats an’ a pinnace, they thinks it’s the Dutch comin’ up the river agen.” Hulme was grimed with powder smoke, looking tired but determined to tell his tale. “We touches at Gravesend fer a spell, but after th’ guns, the folk ashore think we’re some kind o’ pirates or somethin’ and has at us wi’ what they c’n find. We offs ter Long Reach, but th’ Admiralty has smoked what we’re about an’ sends a rider ter warn off th’ captain—Wells, ’is name. But, we’re up th’ side ’n’ on the quarterdeck in a brace o’ shakes. Bit of a mill, then Cap’n Wells, he legs it out o’ the stern lights an’ is away.”

  “Hey, now, did they come across then?” Kydd wanted to know.

  “That they did! An’ ter prove it, here’s yer new cap’n of Lancaster, Cap’n James Wilson.”

  “Well met, cuffin!” Kydd was glad to shake his hand.

  Hulme wiped at the powder smoke on his face and finished his story: “We gets balls aroun’ our ears goin’ up, we entertains ’em wi’ muskets goin’ down—’s only fair dos.”

  At this Kydd winced: such would not endear them to the townsfolk. Still, the Bloody Flag was now floating proudly high above, not much more than a dozen miles from White Hall itself.

  At six bells came extraordinary news. Busy with his endless work transcribing and requisitioning, Kydd heard a sudden eruption of excitement on the decks above that swelled and spread. He potted his quill, and collided with Davis at the door. “Tom, mate, better go topsides handy like, there’s somethin’ you better hear.”

  The whole ship’s company, animated and noisy, appeared to be on the upper deck. The focus was Parker, who stood abreast the mainmast holding a paper. When he saw Kydd he flourished it in the air vigorously. “Tom!” His face was wreathed with a seraphic smile. “My dear friend! At last.” He drew Kydd aside. “History,” he said quietly but proudly. He passed across the paper and watched for reaction.

  “Why, this is tremendous! It’s—well, tremendous!” Here was the final consequence of all they had done, the pinnacle of their striving: a historic achievement. The First Lord of the Admiralty had agreed to come to Sheerness, together with the august Board of Admiralty, there no doubt to add plenary weight to decisions on the eight articles. And with him he would be bringing a King’s Pardon.

  The news spread ashore. One by one, the red flags and crimson banners disappeared, and the Union Flag of Old England was welcomed back; people walked freely, shops reopened and Blue Town took on all the old jollity of a fleet in port.

  Kitty took the news with huge relief, dabbing her eyes. “Leave it t’ us, m’ dear—jus’ make sure y’ have the main deck rigged so.”

  Thus it was that at dusk the main deck of Sandwich was squared away fore and aft, lanthorns were placed above each gun and every piece of bunting that could be found was hung and draped in a brave display of color. Seamen, their women on their arms, came aboard from every ship in the anchorage. The larboard side of the main deck was draped with ensigns of all the friends of England, especially at the center, opposite the mainmast. There it was expected that President of the Delegates Parker would speak.

  Between the guns on the starboard side of the deck, tables were tastefully laid with festive fare and the main gratings were spread with jugs and baskets. An enthusiastic band scraped away forward—“Britons Strike Home!” and “Rule Britannia” particular favorites. These were interspersed with hornpipes and spontaneous dancing.

  A storm of applause greeted Parker as he moved forward to take his place. It went on and on, and Kydd could see the emotion of the moment tugging at him.

  He spoke fine words: the triumph of right, true brotherhood, loyal hearts. When he finished, William Davis, mutineer captain of Sandwich, stepped forward, and, in an unaffected, manly voice, sang:

  Old Neptune made haste, to the Nore he did come,

  To waken his sons who had slept far too long.

  They heard him, ’tis true, the lion boldly roused

  Their brethren at Spithead their cause did espouse;

  Each swore to the King forever to be true

  But one and all tyrants would strive to subdue

  …

  But Kydd knew the best was to come. From the fore-hatchway tripped a line of women in gala array, dresses swirling, ribbons whirling, to form a line of chorus. The girl who took positi
on in the front was his Kitty.

  She blew him a kiss, assumed a roguish pout and, dancing bawdily, began the age-old ditty of the sailor’s Poll:

  Don’t you see the ships a-comin?

  Don’t you see them in full sail?

  Don’t you see the ships a-coming

  With the prizes at their tail!

  Oh! my little rolling sailor,

  Oh! my little wiling he;

  I do love a jolly sailor,

  Blithe and merry might he be!

  To general merriment and the mortification of the soldiers who had accepted invitations, Kitty launched into the second verse:

  Sailors, they get all the money,

  Soldiers they get none but brass;

  I do love a jolly sailor,

  Soldiers they may kiss my arse!

  Oh! my little rolling sailor,

  Oh! my little rolling he;

  I do lope a jolly sailor,

  Soldiers may be damned for me!

  A lump formed in Kydd’s throat; this was what it was to be among the fellowship of the sea, the precious warmth of shared dangers and ocean mysteries, pride in fine sea skills and a handsome ship—there was no other life conceivable.

  With this nightmare over and a Royal Pardon, he could take back his rank and place in the navy—perhaps with Kitty …

  “Lord Spencer, you know General Grey.” In Pitt’s cabinet rooms the First Lord of the Admiralty bowed politely to the senior field officer commanding land forces in the south.

  “Mr. Pitt is unavoidably delayed, I fear, First Lord.” Windham took Spencer’s cloak and ushered him to a seat next to Grey.

  “Not surprised,” murmured the Duke of Portland. “Fox did promise that he would make this the speech of his life against his government. An’ I saw Sheridan in his cups as usual—he’ll be there to stir it along, you can be sure.”

  The table buzzed with desultory conversation until the door flew open and Pitt entered, his face even paler than usual. “My apologies, gentlemen.”