19 The Baltic Prize (Thomas Kydd #19) by Julian Stockwin

Author:Julian Stockwin [Stockwin, Julian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: antique
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

Before the streaky pale dawn broke, Kydd had the squadron at sea on the last part of its mission – gathering intelligence on the Arctic town of Archangel, the only port left to the Russians until they broke out of Kronstadt, the dockyard at St Petersburg, and confronted Saumarez. If there were any moves against England by the Russians joining with the Dutch and French, Archangel was where it would be.

The mission needed careful planning. Following the coast trending south-eastwards through the Barents Sea, they would reach the fabled inland White Sea, the gateway into the heart of Muscovy. With an entry-width of not much more than twenty miles, it was beyond belief that, being at war and with the ice having retreated, the Russians weren’t patrolling it, possibly with some of their large frigates. Should he take on a hard action all for the sake of what could be discovered within?

From past experience Kydd knew that Archangel was set well within a maze of flat marshes and endless muddy delta riverines. The last time he’d had a pilot with him – could he make it through with the countryside up in arms against him? It was a daunting prospect but it was the main mission of his cruise north and he had to find some way of discovering the truth.

The snow-streaked prominence of the end of the Kola peninsula loomed; they were now turning south and entering the White Sea.

It had been timed for early morning. There were two sail abroad; by their size they were Pomors, unlikely to contest his presence. Apart from them, the seas were empty and, in tight formation, the squadron forged south, keyed up for the first encounter.

By degrees the water took on a definite discolouring, a drab vegetable wash, the tell-tale sign of the great Dvina river issuing out from the immense land mass of Asia, on whose banks Archangel lay. They were now well within the White Sea in its south-east part, with vast uncharted regions to the west and south. Still no patrolling frigate or worse.

It was only a few hours’ sail from the wide Mud’yugsky anchorage where Tyger had rested before. Men-o’-war could very likely be there.

Kydd sniffed the wind: the same steady nor’-wester – fair for arriving, foul for leaving. The next hours would be a tense time. The sea and landscape were exactly as he recalled, dreary, lifeless, repellent … and quiet.

The anchorage emerged ahead, a mass of ships all facing into the current from the Dvina. Tyger cruised past them, no colours aloft. Kydd examined the vessels closely. The dozens at anchor all had bare spars. No sail bent on, no movement to sea expected. And not one anything remotely like a warship.

Curious faces appeared on their decks but there was no panic-stricken rush to flee, just a careless lassitude.

He put about and stood out a mile before the squadron hove to. Should they sail away, satisfied that there were no threats here in the north?

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