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    “Staying for the trial, sir?” the innkeeper asked, summoning a porter. Kydd was in plain brown dress but he’d clearly recognised the bearing of a naval officer. Without waiting for an answer, the man added, “Then you’ll be interested in the newspapers, sir. We have them all in the parlour for your convenience.”
    While Tysoe saw to the unpacking, Kydd sat in the bow window for the sake of the light and picked up the
Portsmouth Post
. Although ostensibly just reporting the facts, there was malice behind the words. “The Trial of Sir Home Popham … upon the most serious charge of abandoning his station … the unfortunate failure of the unsanctioned enterprise … must now answer for it before his peers …” In three dense columns the writer had laid out the essentials. The article began with the British army’s near-run conquest and subsequent control of the Dutch-held Cape of Good Hope, at six thousand miles distance of England, leaving the victorious army in control but the Navy’s small squadron under Popham on guard against a vengeful counter-stroke.
    The narrative ran on: it was the “unaccountable desire of the naval commander to cross the Atlantic without orders on a brazen attempt to invade South America, which notwithstanding that the capital Buenos Aires had actually been captured in no way excused the action, still less the consequent shipping back of millions in silver bullion.”
    The piece pointed out that the adventure had failed, with the ignominious surrender of the British forces to the rag-tag Spanish colonial forces, which was greatly to be regretted. Then, in ponderous, elliptical prose, it scouted the rumours that the entire venture had been for the personal profit of this distinguished officer.
    Kydd threw the paper aside. The author had not even mentioned the immense strategic advantage of detaching Spain from her colonies and their sustaining wealth—if successful, it would almost certainly have thrown her out of the war.
    The
Hampshire Register
took a different and more sympathetic tack, wondering if the entire affair was the work of Popham’s enemies, seeking to destroy his reputation. The undoubted benefit to British commerce of opening up the Plate river trade in hides and grain and as a market for industrial goods, it claimed, was never going to be recognised by stiff-necked Tories intent on bringing down Popham.
    That was the daily newspapers. The radical Cobbett in his
Annual Register
had ranted against the expedition as having “originated in a spirit of rapacity and plunder” and even questioned whether Popham “had ever been placed in a situation to have had a single shot fired at him.” There had been pamphlets too, some making direct accusations of avarice and corruption and others of sordid dealings in India.
    What was it about Popham that roused such emotions? Kydd shook his head and decided to take a stroll in the warm evening air.
    There were many about, some no doubt on their way to Governor’s Green to an open-air meeting on the trial he’d seen posted up, so he shaped course towards the seafront with its view of the fleet at Spithead.
    He hadn’t gone far when he heard a cry and saw a figure hurrying towards him. It was his former second lieutenant.
    “Good day to you, Mr Bowden. What brings you here?”
    “The trial in course, Sir Thomas. As I have a certain interest and … and I find myself at leisure at the moment,” he added.
    They began to walk together.
    “Your own presence I gather, sir, is rather more than a passing curiosity?”
    “I’m summoned as witness. A sad business.” Then Kydd said offhandedly, “Look, if you’ve nothing better, shall you wish to sup with me? The George is famous for its lamb cutlets, as I remember.” They dined together in a quiet corner, the young man respectful and attentive.
    But Kydd needed someone to whom he could speak in confidence. It was the inevitable consequence of the sea service: at any time the