which mounted sixty-six heavy guns. To say nothing of other men-of-war, bomb vessels and military artillery ranged along the shore.
Against such a force Nelson would be leading just twelve seventy-fours, provided they could get through the last part of the channel without being crippled.
Now, as he listened to the continuous rumble of cannon fire he marvelled at the audacity or perhaps the recklessness of the plan. More so at the cool nerve of the man who was back there in command with his flag in the Elephant.
Herrick moved up beside him, his face worried.
'I wish we were with the fleet instead of here, sir. It seems wrong to leave them like this. Every extra gun will be needed just now.'
Bolitho did not answer immediately. He was watching the Relentless, a distant pyramid of gently flapping canvas as she changed tack slightly to larboard. Well astern of her the sloop-of-war Lookout was end on, one eye no doubt on the flagship.
Bolitho said, 'The Danes will not act until Nelson has committed himself. When the fleet weighs again tomorrow, and stands around the Middle Ground, that is the moment I would choose. Our ships would be caught in cross-fire from three directions at least.'
He watched the smoke spreading up and across the sky, blotting out the distant ships and also the city. Men were fighting and dying, and yet from Benbow's quarterdeck it held no threat, no sense of danger.
Browne lowered his glass and said, 'Signal from Relentless, sir, repeated by Lookout. Strange sail bearing south-east.' He added, 'Relentless is already making more sail, sir.'
Bolitho nodded, concealing his sudden doubt from the others. Captain Peel was acting as instructed, not wasting time passing vague sighting reports back and forth.
But surely the whole Danish fleet would be under orders for the attack. And no lone merchantman would be foolhardy enough to sail between two powerful fleets.
Relentless was drawing rapidly away from her smaller consort, and Bolitho knew Peel must have picked his masthead lookouts with care to make such a quick sighting.
'Gunfire's slackening, sir.' Wolfe crossed to the deck-log to make a brief scribble to that effect. 'Our Nel must be through.'
As if to confirm this, Browne called, 'From Indomitable, sir. Styx has reported that our fleet is in sight and already changing tack.'
Herrick wiped his brow with his handkerchief. 'That's a relief. At least we'll know we're not alone for the return passage!'
'Deck there!' The forgotten masthead lookout made every head lift towards him. 'Gunfire to the south'rd!'
Herrick swore. `What the bell! Peel must be engaging!'
'Signal from Lookout, sir. She's requesting permission to give assistance.'
Herrick shook his head and then glanced questioningly at Bolitho.
Bolitho said quietly, 'Denied. It would take Lookout two hours to catch up with the frigate. And if we sight the galleys. she will be needed to head them off.'
Browne watched the flag dashing up the yard and breaking to the wind. To see the quick exchange of glances between Bolitho and Herrick had pushed his own troubles into the background. He knew what they were thinking. What it must always cost a senior officer to place a friend or relative at risk.
The gunfire was reaching the quarterdeck now, savage, intermittent and very distinct, which suggested that the two or more vessels were firing at dose range.
Herrick said, 'Mr Speke! Aloft with you and tell me what you think.'
The lieutenant scrambled up the shrouds, his coat tails flying in the wind.
Wolfe touched his hat. 'Shall I pass the order to load and run out, sir?'
Bolitho said, 'No. There's no point.'
It was strange. In a matter of seconds the battle, Copenhagen, even their reason for being here at all, had been sponged away.
Somewhere on the horizon's misty edge one of their own was fighting. It sounded like two ships. Russian, Swedish or Danish made no difference now.
He recalled Peel's quiet competence and knew he would not be one to act foolishly. He thought, too, of Pascoe's expression as he had turned away from the cabin after he had heard about his father.
'Smoke, sir!' Speke's voice sounded shrill. 'Ship afire!' Bolitho bit his lip. 'Signal to the squadron, Mr Browne. Make more sail.'
Herrick caught his mood and shouted, 'Mr Wolfe! Hands aloft and set t'gan's'ls! Then break out the driver!'
Wolfe strode about the deck, ginger hair flapping, his speaking trumpet swinging as he bellowed for the afterguard to be piped to the braces even as the topmen swarmed to the uppermost yards.
Benbow responded instantly, as under more canvas she heeled heavily to the thrust. Astern, down the line, the other ships were following her example, and to a landsman's inexperienced eye they would seem to be flying like frigates. In fact, Bolitho knew that in these moderate winds they were barely making five knots through the water.
The horizon seemed to shiver and then erupt to a single, violent explosion. Nobody on the quarterdeck said anything. Only a ship's magazine could sound like that.
Browne cleared his throat. 'From Lookout, sir. Sail in sight.'
Herrick stared at Benbow's flapping topsails with fixed attention. 'But which one, for God's sake?'
Speke called, 'One ship has gone down, sir. The other seems to be crippled!'
The masthead pendant whipped out, and Bolitho felt the deck give a sudden tremble as the strengthening gust pushed over the quarter to fill the sails.
He trained a telescope through the rigging, saw a man's face leap into focus as it passed over the carronades on the forecastle to reach far ahead of the ship.
He saw the pall of smoke, two masts with yards and sails in holed fragments standing above it like mute witnesses of the fight.
Then he heard the lookout cry, 'She's a Frenchie, sir!' Bolitho looked at Browne. 'The Ajax.'
Allday came from the poop and watched with the others.
'She'd done her repairs an' was trying to get back to France, I reckon.'
'Probably.'
Bolitho gripped his sword hilt until the pain made him think more dearly. Allday was right, had to be. After such a mauling from Styx the French captain would have needed at least five months to effect repairs. He had probably chosen a port which had become hemmed in by the ice, and now here he was, bringing with him a terrible revenge.
He said harshly, 'Tell Lookout to investigate but not to engage.' He turned and glanced at the sailing master's ruined features and added, 'Lay a course to take the wind-gage off that one, Mr Grubb.'
Herrick lowered his telescope. ` Ajax is not moving. She's lost her mizzen, and I think her steering may have gone.'
The torment of waiting, watching the battered frigate growing larger and larger while Lookout moved warily nearby like a hunter who has discovered a wounded lion, was made more terrible by the silence.
Then Wolfe said, 'Lookout's dropped her boats, sir. Looking for survivors, though after that explosion…' He fell silent as Herrick shot him an angry glance.
Major Clinton had left his marines to join Herrick by the quarterdeck rail. Suddenly he pointed with his stick and said, 'I think the Frenchman's getting under way!'
Wolfe nodded. 'He's cut the wreckage free. Now he's set another topsail.'
They faced Bolitho as he said, 'Run out the lower battery, Mr Wolfe.'
Even the repeated order was hushed. Then the deck gave a long quiver as the great thirty-two-pounders trundled noisily up to their open ports.
'Run out, sir!'
Blackened woodwork and a length of trailing rigging clattered along the Benbow's side. There were corpses, too, or what was left of them.
'Fire a warning shot, Mr Wolfe.'
