It was hardly a ship, more a low, floating barge that was easily recognisable as a store-ship for the Brest dockyard. As the boat drew close, the crew abandoned their efforts to weigh anchor and hastily took to their own boat to escape ashore.
With satisfaction Kydd watched Rowan go alongside and board, his men fanning out fore and aft on the deserted vessel. He had only to select a prize-master and crew and Bien Heureuse had one in the bag.
Rowan returned quickly. "A prize, t' be sure. Dried fish 'n' potatoes f'r the garrison in Brest." No complications with papers and international law, this was an enemy that was now rightfully theirs.
Kydd sent Tranter away as prize-master, glad to see the back of him; the new captain wasted no time in hoisting sail for the run back to Guernsey, ribald shouts of encouragement echoing across the water. Kydd's chest swelled. Their first prize!
Turning his gaze to sea, his eyes focused on a sail, a good three miles away but an unforgivable lapse in lookouts whose attention had been diverted. Square-rigged, she was hove-to and alone out to sea. Uneasy, Kydd sent for his glass as Bien Heureuse won her anchor.
A brig-rig, the workhorse of coastal shipping: she could be anything, but there was something . . . Then, as he watched, the ship got under way again, laying over as she took the wind . . . and he knew for a certainty that it was Teazer.
It affected him deeply, this sudden encounter with the ship he'd loved, his first command, where he had experienced the joys, insights and anxieties that went with the honour of being a captain. And the one where . . . Rosalynd had never come aboard Teazer, had not seen where he slept, never had the chance to . . .
He crushed the thoughts, but when he lifted his telescope he found his eyes stinging and his glass not quite steady. He forced himself to concentration as she altered her course—and headed inshore towards them.
Kydd had no wish to make contact and snapped at Rowan to hasten the unmooring, but Teazer arrived as they were getting under way. Her colours broke at the mizzen shrouds in unmistakable challenge and Kydd had to decide: to attempt a break to the east or await events?
"Luff up," he ordered, resigned to the inevitable.
Teazer rounded to, backing her fore topsail. "Bring to, I'm coming aboard of you, Captain!" It sounded like Prosser with a speaking trumpet, giving the same orders that he himself had used. As it came closer Kydd saw an officer in the sternsheets.
He stood back as the man came aboard. It was Prosser, stiff in his new lieutenant's uniform. He looked about him importantly, then stumbled in shock when he saw Kydd. "I, er, I've been sent b' Commander Standish t' examine y' vessel, um, Mr Kydd," he said uncomfortably.
"Here's m' Letter o' Marque. As ye can see, it's all in order," Kydd snorted. The brailed-up sails banged and slatted overhead impatiently.
Prosser took it, then looked up awkwardly. "He means y' full papers—where bound, freight an'—"
"I know what an examination means," Kydd said cuttingly. "I now need y' reason why m' vessel is bein' detained after I've proved m' business."
"It's not like that, sir. Mr Standish is hard on them who don't carry out his orders t' satisfaction, an' he said—"
"Then tell Commander Standish as I'm a private ship-o'-war and may not be delayed in m' tasking without good reason. Good day, L'tenant." He stalked to the ship's side; Prosser's boat was bobbing off the quarter, the men at their oars.
"Boat's crew!" Kydd roared, and gave the straight-armed up and down signal of the naval order to come alongside. A plump midshipman he did not recognise swivelled round in astonishment. "This instant, damn y'r eyes," Kydd added.
Hesitating, the young man gave the order and the boat came to hook on at the main channel, the midshipman looking reproachfully at Kydd and his officer by turns.
"Good day t' ye, Mr Prosser," Kydd said menacingly. Crimson-faced, the man swung over the bulwarks and barked at his men to shove off.
Kydd saw the pinnace clear, then ordered sail to be loosed and Bien Heureuse resumed her course. He tried not to look astern, but when he did it was to see Teazer brace round and set out in chase.
The high crack of a bow gun fired to weather gave point to her hoist at the signal halliards: "heave-to immediately." Pointedly it was in the naval code, which no strange merchant ship could be expected to know.
Once again Bien Heureuse lay submissively to leeward. Teazer eased close alongside, men at quarters next to their guns in plain sight. "Let everything go by the run or I shall fire into you!" Standish hailed from the quarterdeck, his voice ringing with hauteur.
Kydd bit out orders for the yards to be lowered and tried to keep his anger in check. Was the man showing off in front of his ship's company or was it a deliberate attempt to belittle Kydd in front of his men?
The two ships moved together in the long swell, every detail of the lovely Teazer before him. The chess-tree was set at such a rake that by so doing it cunningly led the tack clear of both the sheet-anchor fluke and a nearby gun-port—he hadn't noticed this before.
Standing back he waited with arms folded. The boarding party swung over the bulwarks and quickly spread out, a petty officer and six with bared cutlasses, then Standish, glorious in brand-new commander's gold lace and sword.
He took his time, disdainfully inspecting the plain decks, a glimmer of a smile at the single pair of nine-pounders and a cursory glance aloft before he strolled over to Kydd. He did not remove his hat. "You failed to stop on my lawful order. What is the meaning of this?"
"You, sir, have come aboard my vessel armed, t' th' contempt of the law an' custom o' the sea. What's th' meanin' o' that?"
Standish blinked. He had obviously forgotten that in the arcane practices of the sea it was quite in order to board with a party of men armed to the teeth—but the officer in charge should never bear a weapon. "I may have omitted the observance in this instance, sir, but I do require an answer to my question."
Several of the boarders dropped their eyes and shuffled in embarrassment.
"An answer? I hove-to in th' first instance, an' the order was improper in the second," Kydd said tightly.
"Improper?" Standish said languidly, moving a few steps away and testing a down-haul. "I rather think not. As I command a King's ship you shall obey my every order whether you like it or not. That is the law."
Kydd held his tongue. How long would this charade continue?
"Lieutenant Prosser was within his rights to demand your papers, as well you know," he went on, and returned to stand arrogantly before Kydd, legs a-brace. "He tells me you bear a Letter of Marque as a private ship. Any luck?" he asked casually.
"Th' sport is thin—" Kydd said thickly.
"Good!" cracked Standish, with a cruel smile, "Then you won't miss a few men. Do you muster your crew on deck, I shall press half, I would think."
"Ye'll press my men?" Kydd choked.
"Are you disputing my right to do so?" He was well within his rights. Prime privateersmen were a favourite target for the press in any form. "If any of your men have protections then in course they will be left to you." He went on implacably, "Do turn your men up more quickly, Mr Kydd. I really don't have time to waste."
With a terrible intensity, Kydd leaned forward, "Have a care, Standish. Lay a hand on just one o' my men an' I'll see ye standing afore Admiral Saumarez to explain y'self!"
Standish recoiled. "You forget yourself, Kydd. You no longer—"
"Oh?" Kydd replied. "Then I'll be glad t' hear what ye'll be saying t' th' commander-in-chief as ye tell him ye've decided t' disobey his orders."