Invasion by Julian Stockwin Page A

nevertheless solemnly pronounced that, “The fate of the nation is in the hands of the Navy.” And he must be right: the war was as much the Royal Navy’s to lose as Napoleon’s to win. A faint-hearted admiral, a deceitful piece of intelligence to send a fleet in the wrong direction, any or all could ensure Bonaparte got the unfettered hours he needed.
    Returning to the White Hart, Kydd found his chair and sat quietly, eyes closed, letting the tensions drain. In two days he would return to the Downs and take Teazer to war. Would she come through? Would he? The only thing that was certain was that the immediate future would test both himself and his ship to the limit. Half a million Frenchmen under arms opposed by just a few thousand storm-tossed seamen in worn ships . . .
    â€œDo I intrude, brother?” Renzi’s gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.
    â€œOh, er, not so much, m’ friend,” Kydd said, opening his eyes. “Renzi, there’s a matter I need to talk to you about, if y’ will.” It was coming out too stiffly but he had to say it. “That is, it touches on the future, you see.”
    â€œWhy, certainly,” Renzi said, sitting.
    â€œI’ve—it’s been an . . . interesting week. And now I’m much clearer what is to be facing us.”
    â€œAnd what is that, pray?”
    â€œIf Bonaparte crosses, it’s nothing less’n a fight to the finish—the last extremity, if you catch m’ meaning.”
    â€œIf he crosses.”
    â€œThe invasion fleet is ready—near a hundred thousand men in the first assault. Only the Navy to keep ’em off. The first line o’ defence is ourselves, m’ friend, up against the French coast. If they break through us and launch their monstrous flotilla there’s precious little to give ’em pause before they’re flooding ashore.”
    â€œIf I may be so bold, dear fellow, might I observe that this agitation of spirit is quite unlike the Tom Kydd of yore?” Renzi said lightly, but his eyes were sombre.
    â€œYou’ve not heard what I have,” Kydd retorted grimly then caught himself. “No, m’ point is this, that shortly Teazer is sailing into, um, uncertain times. It’s possible we’ll need to stand against Bonaparte’s whole armada—and, m’ dear friend, I’d rather I had no distractions, if you understand,” he said firmly.
    â€œAm I to apprehend . . . ?”
    â€œNicholas. It’s a hard enough thing that I must place Teazer athwart their bows. It’s hard, but it’s necessary. What is not so is that I put the life of a learned scholar to hazard.”
    â€œAre you—”
    â€œHear me, if you will. You must agree there’s clerks a-plenty to be had, but not such a one who’s as well a philosophical gentleman, one whose work mankind will soon surely set a value to.” Kydd faced Renzi squarely. “Nicholas, I’m asking that you take y’ books and remain ashore until this business is concluded.”
    â€œThat will not be possible,” Renzi said immediately.
    â€œPray why not?”
    â€œGrant me that my sense of duty is as . . . consequential as your own. And for all that there is little enough I can do for my country in its extremity. All I ask is that I be allowed to continue in my post of duty to the satisfaction of my conscience.”
    â€œIt—a time might come that—”
    â€œAs we agreed in the beginning, if the ship is in imminent danger of boarding or some such, you may rest assured I will take up arms to defend it. As to the value of my carcass to posterity, you will allow me to be the judge of that.”
    â€œNicholas, this is not—”
    â€œDear chap, there is nothing further to discuss. Rather, your attention should be better reserved for the item addressed to you, so recently brought by messenger.” He found a slim packet and handed