The Bomb Vessel

The two brothers strode past fishing boats drawn up on the beach. From the village a cock crowed and rising smoke told of stirring life. They saw a man emerge from a wooden privy who looked up in astonishment.

'I think I will take my leave now,' Edward said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

'Very well,' replied Nathaniel, his voice flat and formally naval.

Edward paused then gripped the canvas bag flung over his shoulder with both fists, avoiding the necessity of shaking hands. He nodded to his brother then turned and strode away. Drinkwater stood and watched him go. The man from the privy had reappeared at the door of a neat wooden house. With him was a woman with yellow hair and a blue shawl wrapped about her shoulders. They stood staring at the approaching stranger. Edward made no attempt to conceal himself but walked up to them and raised his hat. The woman retreated behind her husband but after a few minutes, during which it was clear that Edward was making himself understood to the Dane, curiosity brought her forward again.

Though the two looked twice at Drinkwater, Edward did not turn and after a moment Nathaniel walked back to the boat.

The wind before which Virago's longboat returned was foul for the fleet to attempt The Sound. But the day proved more eventful than could have been expected as that dismal realisation permeated every wardroom and gun-room in the fleet. About ten in the morning the Commander-in-Chief began signalling various ships for boats. There followed hours during which, in a grey and choppy sea, the boats of the fleet pulled or sailed about, commanded by blue midshipmen with notes and orders, while the weary seamen toiled at the oars to invigorate their circulation.

The cold was bitter, following an unseasonal early spring, winter had reasserted itself. In England daffodils, new budded in the warmth of early March, now froze on the stem, an omen from the North that did not go unnoticed among the ignorant and neglected womenfolk who waited eagerly for news of the vaunted Baltic expedition.

But a new air gradually transformed the weary ships. The battleships hauled alongside the cumbersome flat-bottomed boats they had so laboriously towed or carried from England and lowered 24-pounder guns into them. Colonel Stewart's detachment of the 49th Foot improvised musket drill over the hammock nettings, while his riflemen were said to be ready to shoot the Tsar's right eye out. Even the bombs were part of this rejuvenation, the artillery detachments being ordered out of their tenders and on board the vessels they were to attend in action.

Mr Tumilty's rubicund, smiling face came over the side and the red haired Irishman pumped Drinkwater's hand enthusiastically.

'Why Mr Drinkwater, but I'd sure never like to see you naval boys try to do anything secret, 'tis for sure the whole population of Denmark has seen us cruising up and down the coast, by Jesus!' Drinkwater grinned, thinking of his own private secret expedition that had only been accomplished an hour or two earlier.

'I'm damned glad to see you, Mr Tumilty, but what's the cause of all this sudden activity?'

'Don't you know? Why, Admiral Parker has at last decided to let Lord Nelson have his way. The bombs are to join a squadron under his lordship's command. And for certain 'tis Revel or Copenhagen for us, m' dear fellow.'

'Are we to go with the bombs, then?'

'Aye, Nat'aniel. They say Nelson has been nagging the poor old admiral 'til he was only too glad to get rid of him.' Tumilty shivered and rubbed his hands. 'God, but it's cold. To be sure a man that'd go to sea for fortune would go to hell for pleasure…'

'Well, Mr Tumilty, do you go to see Mr Jex and give him my compliments and ask him to issue a greygoe to you, and sheepskins to your men. We should have enough.'

'That's mighty kind of you Nat'aniel, mighty kind. Sure an'it'll be hotter than the hobs of hell itself when we kindle those big black kettles you've got skulking beneath those hatches,' he added, rubbing his hands again, this time with enthusiasm.

'Beg pardon, sir, message from the admiral…' Drinkwater took the packet from Quilhampton and noted the boat pulling away from the ship's side. In his delight at welcoming Tumilty he had not seen it arrive.

He scanned the order: The ships noted in the margin are… Drinkwater looked down the list. There, at the bottom he found Virago… to form a squadron under my command ordered forward upon a special service… The ships and vessels placed under my directions are to get their sheet and spare anchors over the side, ready for letting go at the shortest notice… commanding officers are to take especial notice of the following signals… No 14 to anchor by the stern … It was signed in the admiral's curious, left- handed script: Nelson and Brontë.

'Mr Rogers!'

'Sir?'

'The vice-admiral is to shift his flag to Elephant this morning.'

'What the devil for?'

'She draws less than the St George, Mr Rogers. Do you direct the watch officers to pay particular attention to all signals from the Elephant. We are to form part of a detachment under Nelson…'

The sudden activity of the fleet and the disencumbering of Edward had coincided to throw off Drinkwater's depression. He suddenly felt ridiculously buoyant, a feeling shared by the impish Tumilty whose smile threatened to disappear into his ears.

''Twill be a fine music we'll be playing to these damned knaves, Mr Rogers, so it will, a fine basso profundo with the occasional crescendo to make 'em jump about like eejits.'

'Let's hope we're not too late, Mr Tumilty,' said Rogers who had not yet forgiven Drinkwater for his mysterious behaviour over Waters.

'Beg pardon, zur, but Mr Trussel sent me down with more orders just come, zur.'

'Thank you Tregembo.' Drinkwater took the packet and broke the wafer.

'Beg pardon, zur, but may I speak, zur?'

'What is it?'

'Tis well-known about the ship that the man we landed yesterday was a spy, zur.'

Drinkwater looked at the Cornishman. They both understood.

'Mr Jex approached me some days ago, zur. It cost him two plugs of tobacco to learn you ain't got no brother, zur.'

'Thank you.'

'Now, with your permission, zur, I'll see to your sword and pistols, zur.'

'They are all right, thank you Tregembo, I have not used them since last you attended to them.'

'I'll look at them, just the same.'

Drinkwater bent over the new orders. It was a general instruction to the bomb vessels to place themselves under the orders of Captain Murray of the Edgar. It was anticipated that they would be used against the fortress at Cronbourg. A note was included from Martin. The commander's crabbed script drew Drinkwater's attention to the fact that it was suspected that Zebra had suffered some damage on the Zeeland's Reef and he might yet be able to render Drinkwater a service. Drinkwater fancied he could read the unwritten thought that lay behind that fatuous phrase, that he, Nathaniel Drinkwater, was an intimate of Lord Dungarth. Drinkwater wondered what Martin would do if he knew that the lieutenant, with whom he was currently currying favour, had just assisted a murderer to escape the noose.

Late in the afternoon the brig Cruizer was ordered forward to send in a boat to make a final demand of Governor Strieker at Cronbourg as to his intentions if the British fleet attempted to pass The Sound. It revealed to all, including the Danish commander, that Parker was still vacillating.

The following morning, Saturday March 28th, the wind hauled westerly and the temperature rose. The sun shone and the fleet weighed, setting all sail to the royals in an attempt to enter and pass The Sound. But the wind fell light and the contrary current held up the lumbering battleships so that Parker, learning from Brisbane of the Cruizer that Strieker had laughed in his face, could not risk his ships drifting under the heavy guns of the fortress. Once again the fleet anchored and in Virago's cabin that night they debated how long it took to wear an anchor ring through the shank.