Free Seaflower by Julian Stockwin Page A

were
taken out to the brig, some seamen swarming into the tops, others locating the
halliards and lifts.
    'We
go out under staysails an' mizzen,' ordered Jowett. There was a ragged hiss and
a thump: a plume of water rose in the sea, the cannon ball going on to smash a
beachside hut to splinters. 'They's shyin' at us!' growled Jowett. 'Time we
wasn't here.'
    Kydd
felt an overwhelming urge to be back at sea where it would be calm and sane.
From the shore came distant screams and cursing - the marines were having
difficulty defending themselves. Jowett seized Kydd's arm. 'Get ashore, send
twenty of 'em out ter me. Twenty is all!' A ball slapped through the fore
topmast staysail as it rose up on the stay. 'Now!'
    Kydd
threw a glance at Renzi, who was just descending from the main-shrouds, and
boarded the boat. He took the tiller and headed for the chaos ashore, swelled
now by royalist deserters who had broken into grog-shops.
    The
marines had fear in their eyes - the mob was near uncontrollable. The boat
bumped up against the stone wharf and Kydd fought his way up to the marines. 'Watch
m' back, you lobsterbacks,' he yelled, and took an oar into the crowd, rotating
it wildly to clear a space. It gained a minute or two: then what? To whom
should he award life, to whom deny it?
    One
of the men on the oars came up courageously to help him. Together they held the
oar as a barrier. There, around two rows back, a mother and daughter, they
should go. He pointed them out and beckoned. Under screams of rage from the
others, they forced their way under the oar and to safety. Kydd's eyes darted
around. The grey-haired man with the proud but fearful expression, a royalist
officer, doomed if he remained. As the man came forward, Kydd noticed he was
trembling so much he could hardly steady himself. Others - the boat was filling
fast. A sharp crack and rending of timber — some spar in the brig taking a
ball; there was no time to lose. He made sure the oarsmen were clear — the
gunwales were only six inches above the water; he would wedge himself into the
stern. Kydd looked around at the crowd for the last time — and, with a shock,
saw Louise on the fringes.
    Without
stopping to consider the consequences, he pointed and beckoned. The mob howled
and tore at her, and she fell — but rose and fought her way through. Kydd tried
to think what her presence must imply - whose blood had he seen at the house?
Louise paused in front of him, and he pushed her to the boat. She clambered
aboard over the transom into the place Kydd had intended for himself. The boat
swayed, nearly dipping the gunwales under. Its passengers screamed in fright.
There was no chance for him on this trip.
    He
watched the boat reach the brig as a cannon shot brought up a vicious plume of
spray not five yards from it. The people scrambled for their lives up the side,
and Kydd noticed the line of the morning sun lengthening down the brig's hull.
Her cables had been cut. The fore and aft sails were shaken out and, with the
empty boat drifting free astern, the brig caught the wind and put to sea.
     
    Lieutenant
Calley did not look up from his writing. The faint tap of muskets sounded - the
French must be close. His shirt stuck to him in the close heat of the small
room, and he muttered as he wrote.
    Kydd
waited patiently. They had made it back to the square and found it empty of
friendly soldiery - in fact, empty of most inhabitants. They had only found
their way to this 'headquarters' after a chance encounter with a hurrying party
of infantrymen.
    Calley
looked up. Kydd was shocked by the dark rings around his eyes and the evidence
in his posture of extreme tiredness. 'The town is in total disorder; the French
are approaching from the east. There is no help for it - we must yield the
capital.' He spoke generally, not at Kydd but into his immediate front.
    'Aye,
sir,' he said. So much had happened since that pre-dawn awakening. The noon
heat was dire in this room and he longed to