Betrayal by Julian Stockwin Read Free Book Online Page B

and chilled when he finally stepped into the commodore’s cabin.
    Popham regarded him without enthusiasm, saying testily, ‘Kydd, do contrive to drip somewhere else, won’t you?’
    ‘My apologies, sir,’ he said, handing his cocked hat to a servant. ‘I do have news that I’m sanguine will interest you.’
    ‘Oh?’ Popham said coldly.
    Kydd outlined his voyage succinctly, ending with his chase and capture of
Marie Galante
and her later loss by stranding.
    ‘Can’t be helped, I suppose,’ Popham said, with feeling. It was well known that in his career at sea he had never been lucky in prize money. ‘Butcher’s bill?’
    ‘We lost a master’s mate, with two wounded in the boarding, and one killed and three hurt in the boats by musketry, sir. The French suffered eight dead and eleven wounded, including their captain, who bled to death after his deed.’
    ‘Hmm. A small price for us, I’m bound to say. You have prisoners?’
    ‘I have all the officers and skilled hands in
L’Aurore
, and I beg you will give instructions that will see a transport call at Quelimane, where I landed the common
matelots
for want of accommodation.’
    ‘The next India-bound supply vessel will answer, I should think. Now, I don’t suppose this corvette was with Maréchal at all?’ Popham asked hopefully.
    Kydd savoured the moment. ‘No, sir, most definitely not.’
    ‘Oh? You’ve questioned the officers, of course?’
    ‘I did, but the intelligence I have for you came from quite another source.’
    ‘Yes? What is that, pray?’
    There was an impatient edge to his tone so Kydd went on quickly: ‘I arranged for a Channel Islander to be in the guard over the prisoners. He overheard ’em say something that’ll surely gratify. It seemed they were bemoaning the fate that sees them in chains in Cape Town while Maréchal and his squadron must be halfway home to Rochefort by now . . .’
    ‘Ah! So! Excellent news! This could mean—’
    ‘Their charts have no workings on it to suggest a fleet operation, their logs make no mention of a rendezvous and their last port o’ call was Réunion. Confronted with it, their first lieutenant admitted it was so, that they were merely out on a cruise of depredation against our commerce.’
    ‘Capital! Then we may take it that Maréchal has abandoned his venture and is returning. The last squadron of threat to Cape Town is gone. This is splendid news, Captain, splendid.’
    He seemed to brighten by the minute. ‘My dear fellow, I’m forgetting my manners. May I offer you a restorative negus perhaps?’
    The prospect of a piping hot toddy was compelling and Kydd accepted gratefully. He could understand the relief Popham must be feeling. Rather than the negative news from his scouting frigates that the French were not to be found in this area or that, here was a positive indication that the menace was now safely on its way out of Cape waters.
    ‘I really feel this news is worthy of celebration! You’ll stay and sup with me, Kydd?’
    It was an odd dinner for, with the blow from the South Atlantic kicking up respectable-sized rollers, there was no possibility of boats coming out from the shore. The company was restricted to themselves, with
Diadem
’s first lieutenant, Davis, and a bemused passenger, one Scholes, doctor of theology, whose store of amusing anecdotes petered out in the strongly masculine naval company.
    ‘Sir, do tell of your cutting out o’ this Frenchy corvette. I’ll wager it’s to be my dinner-table yarn for years t’ come,’ Davis said, his voice tinged in equal measure with admiration and envy.
    While the darkness of evening fell outside and the bluster of the north-westerly rattled the old-fashioned stern-windows of the sixty-four, Kydd told of the adventure, a modest, straight account with full acknowledgement to those who had contributed.
    ‘A capital operation indeed,’ Popham declared, ‘in the best traditions and so forth. I for one am honoured to drink