The Bomb Vessel

Nelson to prod his reluctant arse for him.'

'True, Mr Rogers, but it does seem that Mr Drinkwater was specially selected for his discretion in landing this spy fellow. I'd say he'd achieved that with a fair degree of success, wouldn't you?'

'Yes, I suppose… hey, what's that going on alongside Cruizer?' Rogers whipped the night-glass from its rack and stared hard at the grey shape of the brig half a mile away and partially hidden from them behind Blanche. 'By God, she's getting under way!'

Lettsom stared into the gathering darkness and had to confess he could see nothing remarkable.

'There man, are you blind? Damned good surgeon you'll make if you can't see a bloody brig getting under way with her boats alongside.'

'No, I can't see a thing. D'you want me to tell the captain on my way below?'

'Yes, I'd be obliged to you.' Rogers turned away. 'Hey fo'c's'le there! Can't you see anything unusual on the starboard beam. Keep your blasted eyes peeled, God damn it, unless you want a Danish guard-boat coming alongside to piss in your ear while you're asleep up there…'

'Aye, aye, sir.' Lettsom heard the aggrieved tone in the response.

In the cabin he told Drinkwater of the news of Cruizer.

'Thank you Mr Lettsom, pray take a seat. Will you take a glass and a biscuit with me? I daresay we will know what's amiss tomorrow morning, in the meantime a glass to keep the cold out before turning in would be a good idea, eh?'

'Indeed it would, sir, thank you.'

'Mr Lettsom, I don't care much for doggerel, but I hear that you command a superior talent upon the flute. Would you oblige me with an air?'

'With the greatest of pleasure, Mr Drinkwater. Are you familiar with the work of Lully?'

'No. Pray enlighten me.'

The fleet had moved south from Hven at daybreak. They were now anchored within sight of the roofs and spires of Copenhagen, at the northern end of Copenhagen Road. Another council of war had been held aboard London to which the artillery officers were summoned. Quilhampton returned from delivering Tumilty to the flagship with news for Drinkwater.

'Amazon and Cruizer, sir, they've been forward with the Lark, lugger. Lord Nelson's reconnoitred the Danish position, so one of the mids aboard London told me.'

Drinkwater nodded. 'Doubtless we'll learn all the details when he returns. I'm obliged to you Mr Q.' Drinkwater reached for the old notebooks of Blackmore and pored over the chart, lost in thought.

The Danish capital of Copenhagen straddled a narrow strait between the easternmost part of Zeeland and the smaller island of Amager. The strait formed the inner harbour and ran through the heart of the city. To the east the sea formed a large open roadstead separated from the main part of The Sound by the low, sandy island of Saltholm which supported little but a few huts and a quantity of marram grass. But the roadstead was deceptive. In addition to the shoals that lined the shores of Amager and Saltholm, which converged at the southern end off Drager in The Grounds, a large elliptical mud-bank split the roadstead in two. Called the Middle Ground it divided the area into two navigable channels. The westernmost one, which from the British fleet's present anchorage led first towards, and then southwards past Copenhagen, was called the King's Deep. The easternmost which ran due south close to the Saltholm shore, and out of range of the guns at Copenhagen, was known as the Holland Deep.

The problem in attacking Copenhagen would be whether to enter the King's Deep from the north, which might bottle the ships up at the southern end with an unfavourable wind preventing them returning through the Holland Deep, or assembling at the southern end and forcing a passage to the north through the King's Deep when the wind changed.

Drinkwater was suddenly disturbed by the opening of his door and the gleam of gold coins flung across the chart before him. He looked up in astonishment. Tumilty's usually florid face was blue with cold and a large dewdrop depended from his nose. But his expression was one of utter joy.

'There's my stake in the wager, Nat'aniel, and sure it is that I've just as cheerfully parted with another five to Captain Lawson for his superior pyroballogy from the Zebra, so I have.'

'And what of Zebra, Tom?' asked Drinkwater cautiously.

'Would you believe they've strained the thirteen-inch mortar bed mortal bad! And would you believe that they've sprung a gar-board on the reef, and while it ain't what her commander would call serious, what with the hands pumping for an hour a watch, but further concussions of her mortars might let the whole o' the Baltic into her bilge?'

'And Virago?' asked Drinkwater rising to pour two glasses of blackstrap.

'Nothing firm yet, Nat'aniel. Flag officer's minds don't leap to decisions with the same facility as that of your humble servant's, but 'tis only a matter of time until expedience itself must recommend Virago to fill the breach, an' there's me money as an act of faith.' He lifted the glass to his lips giving one of his heavily conspiratorial winks.

Drinkwater digested the news. 'What did you learn of the plans for the rest of the fleet?'

'Oh, Parker's increased the size of Nelson's detachment by adding Edgar and Ganges.'

'That makes twelve line of battle ships. D'you think he means Nelson to make the attack?'

Tumilty nodded. 'Certain of it… Fremantle is put in charge of those damned flat boats and there are some additional signals. Here, 'tis all in these orders.'

Tumilty tossed the papers onto the table. He added conversationally, 'Isis lost seven men passing Cronbourg when one of her old guns blew up.' He emptied his glass, helped himself to another and went on, 'Nelson, it seems, went ahead yesterday afternoon in a lugger…'

'The Lark.'

'Just so; then last night Brisbane took the Cruizer and laid a couple of buoys at the north end o' the Holland Deep. D'you know where that is?'

Drinkwater pointed at the charts before him. Tumilty peered over his shoulder. 'Ah, and yesterday Nelson saw the Danes hacking down beacons off Dragor…'

'Here, at the southern end of the Channel leading to Copenhagen from the south. If we'd gone by the Great Belt we'd have had to pass the cannon at Dragor and as you see there is less room than through The Sound.'

'Just so, just so… apparently the whole operation is now in jeopardy because the beacons and buoys have been removed from the approach channels. There's a line of forts and floating batteries along the waterfront at Copenhagen and they command the approaches from the north or south. In their front lies a shoal…'

'Here,' Drinkwater pointed. 'The Middle Ground, between the flats round Saltholm and Copenhagen itself.'

'Nelson wants to attack from the south, waiting for a southerly wind so that he may have a breeze to carry himself north if he's forced to disengage. The position looks formidable enough…'

'And if it ain't buoyed…' Drinkwater's voice tailed off and a remote look came into his eyes. Then he suddenly slapped his hand down upon the papers.

'God's bones, why the deuce did I not think of it before… where the devil's Lord Nelson now?'

'Nelson? Why he's still on the London, or perhaps the Elephant… hey, where are you going?'

Drinkwater flung open his cabin door and shouted 'Have a boat ready for me at once there!' then re-entering the cabin he reached for his cloak, hat and sword.

'I'm off to see Nelson.'

'What about your orders?' Tumilty pointed to the packet lying unopened on the desk.

'Oh damn them! We ain't going anywhere until those channels are buoyed out!'

Nelson's barge was returning alongside Elephant as Virago's boat approached. The barge had not left the battleship's side, although the admiral had gone on board by the time the Virago's boat bumped alongside and a tall lieutenant jumped across into the barge, teetered for a second upon a thwart, grabbed a tossed oar for support, and with a muttered 'By your leave,' flung himself at the manropes and scaled the side of the Elephant.