Betrayal by Julian Stockwin

your health, sir.’
    Glowing, Kydd accepted the compliment and nodded graciously when Scholes observed, ‘I, too, must add my measure of amazement at your remarkable courage. To go forward on your enterprise in the stark knowledge of Africa’s perils and hazards . . .’
    Kydd flinched at the memory of the sinking island and that night in the African bush, but Popham was in no doubt. ‘Ah, yes, Doctor, but for the greater prize our good captain is never to be dismayed by the wonders of nature. Is that not so, Kydd?’
    The talk fell away and the dinner ended quietly. Davis made his excuses and left, and Scholes found it necessary to retire to attend to his work, leaving them alone to do justice to the fine cognac.
    ‘I do believe this to be our first chance to take our ease together, Kydd,’ Popham said, after they had settled in the armchairs by the stern-lights.
    ‘Sir.’
    ‘You’ve done well for yourself since we first met, I see.’
    ‘Er, yes, sir.’
    ‘Mere commander of a brig-sloop to post-captain of a frigate – come, come, that’s no mean achievement. Could it in any wise be connected with your stout action off Ushant?’
    ‘Um, I think more that Lord Nelson was in sore need of frigates,’ Kydd said uncomfortably. That Nelson himself had called for him when a captured frigate had become available was something he’d clutch to his heart for ever, but now did not seem the right time to mention it.
    Popham chuckled. ‘You’re too damn modest for your own good, you know that, Kydd? You’ll never get ahead without you make a commotion about it.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Leaning forward to top up Kydd’s glass, Popham then sat back and looked at him quizzically. ‘Do loosen, old chap – I may be commodore for the nonce but this, of course, is but a temporary post while subduing Cape Town. I’ll be reverting back once their lordships deem our task is done and then I’ll be the same as you – post-captain, even if the senior.’
    It was singular, but it was true. They were of equal substantive rank and, in terms of shore protocol at least, would then be accorded an equal deference.
    ‘Do you remember – not so long ago – that little affair with the American Fulton and his submersible? We worked together on it . . .’
    ‘And you frowned on his submarine boat,’ Kydd said.
    ‘I was right, was I not?’
    ‘It has to be said.’
    ‘Should you want to know what happened to the fellow?’ Popham said idly, twirling his glass.
    ‘His torpedoes?’
    ‘Yes. We made some gestures towards Boulogne but with paltry result. Boney himself had the hide to say we were breaking the windows of the good citizens of Boulogne with guineas! Then we made a heroic effort and put on a show for Pitt and the Admiralty off Deal. Tethered an innocent little brig – what was her name?
Dorothea
, that’s it – and sent in the torpedoes.’
    He guffawed at the recollection. ‘You should have seen the looks on their faces, Kydd. Not a jot of warning and the brig’s exploded to fragments! St Vincent turned quite grey and Pitt felt ill. A terrific demonstration!’
    ‘So . . .’
    ‘So nothing! Just a fortnight later, you and Our Nel clear the seas of the French fleet, so what’s the use o’ these toys when there’s no more invasion to be feared? They paid him off and sent him packing back to the United States.’
    ‘Pity – a strange cove, but I liked him,’ Kydd said.
    ‘Well, we’ll hear no more of his plunging boats, I believe. We’ve a war to fight and only the finest seamanship and gunnery will win that . . .’
    ‘You were at Trafalgar, then?’ Popham asked, somewhat defensively.
    ‘In a small way of things, o’ course. I have to say, your telegraphic signals were well received by the fleet,’ Kydd said, and then, more strongly, ‘Especially after Nelson made use of ’em to entertain us before the engagement. “England expects that—”’
    ‘Quite so. I did hear of it.’ A shadow passed across