The Bomb Vessel

There was a splash from forward. The body rolled over once and disappeared. A silence hung over the boat and Quilhampton asked 'Permission to proceed sir?'

'Carry on, Mr Q.'

'Zur!' Tregembo's whisper was harsh and urgent.

'What the devil is it?'

'Thought I saw a boat over there!'

Tregembo pointed north west, in the direction of Copenhagen. Drinkwater stood unsteadily. He could see a big launch pulling to the southward. It might be British but it might also be Danish. He thought of recalling Mr Quilhampton who was already pulling away from them but if the strange boat had not yet seen them he did not wish to risk discovery of the buoy that marked so important a point as the south end of the Middle Ground. Perhaps they could remove the weft, the bare pole would be much more difficult to see…

He rejected the idea, knowing the difficulty of relocating the bank and the buoy themselves, particularly in circumstances other than they had enjoyed tonight.

In the end he decided on a bold measure. 'Let go the buoy!'

He grabbed the tiller and leaned forward to peer in the compass. 'Give way together!' He swung the boat to the north west.

Heading directly for Copenhagen they could scarcely avoid being seen from the big launch. It was vital that observers in the approaching launch did not see the spar-buoy at the southern end of the Middle Ground.

The men were tired now and pulling into the wind after labouring at the oars all night was too much for them. Adding to their fatigue was a concentration of ice floes that made their progress more difficult still. After a few minutes it was obvious that they had been seen from the launch. Drinkwater swung the boat away to the north east, across the Middle Ground, drawing the pursuing launch away from the southernmost buoy. From time to time he looked grimly over his shoulder. He closed his mind to the ironic ignominy of capture and urged the oarsmen to greater efforts. But they could see the pursuing launch and knew they were beaten.

'Hang on, sir, that's one of them damned flat boats!'

'Eh?' Drinkwater turned again, numb with the cold and the efforts of the night. He could see the boat clearly now.

'Boat 'hoy! 'Spencer'!' Drinkwater cudgelled his brain for the countersign given him by Riou.

''Jervis'!' he called, then, turning to the boat's crew, 'Oars!' The men rested.

The big boat came up, pulled by forty seamen who had clearly not spent the night wrestling with leadlines and ice floes.

'What ship?' A tall lieutenant stood in her stern.

'Virago, Lieutenant Drinkwater in command.'

'Good morning, Lieutenant, my name's Davies, off to reconnoitre the guns at Dragor. There's a lot of you fellows out among the ice. Did you take us for a Dane?'

'Aye.'

'Ah, well, sir, 'tis All Fool's day today… Good morning to you.'

The big boat turned away. 'Well I'm damned!' said Drinkwater and, as if to further confound him the wind began to back to the westward. 'Well I'm damned,' he repeated. 'Give way, lads, it's time for breakfast.'

Chapter Sixteen All Fool's Day

 1 April 1801

Drinkwater's tired oarsmen pulled alongside Amazon as the frigate got under way. Riou complied with Drinkwater's request that his boat be allowed to return to Virago under the master and that he remain on board to give his findings to Fothergill.

Before passing off the quarterdeck into the cabin where Fothergill and other weary officers were collating information, Riou asked, 'How far south did you get, Mr Drinkwater?'

'I found the southern end of the bank, sir, and marked it with a spar buoy'

'Excellent. I have recalled Cruizer as you see. Lord Nelson joins us and we are taking Harpy, Lark and Fox through the Holland Deep…'

'Sir…' A midshipman interrupted them. 'Begging your pardon, sir, but Lord Nelson's barge is close, sir…'

'Excuse me…' Drinkwater went aft as Riou stepped to meet the vice-admiral at the entry. He was soon lost in a mass of plotting and checking, working alongside Fothergill as the findings of the night were carefully laid on the master chart. For an hour they worked in total concentration as Amazon made her way southwards. When they emerged on the quarterdeck to take a breath of air they both looked astern. A master's mate came up to Fothergill to brief him as to what had been going on.

'Cruizer's reanchored off the north end of the Middle Ground with Harpy a mile south and Lark a further mile to the south of her.'

'The admiral don't trust our buoys, eh?' smiled Fothergill, exhausted beyond protest.

'Don't trust the fleet not to see 'em or run 'em down, more likely'

'The mark vessels are to hoist signals to indicate they are to be passed to starboard,' offered the master's mate helpfully.

Drinkwater heard his name called by Captain Riou. 'Sir?'

The admiral smiled. 'Morning, Drinkwater. I understand you found the end of the Middle Ground.' Nelson crossed the deck just as it canted wildly. The vice-admiral fell against Drinkwater who caught him, surprised at the frail lightness of his body.

Amazon had approached too closely to the Saltholm shore to avoid the occasional ranging shot ricochetting from the Danish batteries two miles away, and while Riou resolutely set more canvas and pressed the frigate over the mud, Nelson turned to a group of unhappy looking men in plain coats who Drinkwater realised were the pilots from the Trinity House at Hull. He remembered Nelson's poor opinion of their enthusiasm.

'There gentlemen,' he quipped, 'a practical demonstration of the necessity of holding to the channel.' The admiral turned again to Drinkwater, calmly ignoring Riou's predicament of getting Amazon into deeper water.

'The southern end of the shoal Mr Drinkwater…?'

'Marked, my lord, with a spar buoy.'

'Good.' The admiral paused then turned to a group of officers all heavily bedecked with epaulettes. 'Admiral Graves, Captains Dommett and Otway, may I present Mr Drinkwater, gentlemen, Lieutenant commanding the bomb Virago.'

Drinkwater managed a stiff bow.

'Mr Drinkwater has laid a spar buoy on the south Middle Ground…' There was a murmur of appreciation that was without condescension.

'Will a spar buoy be sufficient, my lord? If the division is to use it as a mark for anchoring may I suggest a more substantial mark.' It was Rear Admiral Graves and Dommett nodded.

'I concur with Admiral Graves, my lord.'

Nelson turned to the remaining captain. 'Otway?'

'Yes, my lord, I agree.'

'By your leave, my lord…'

'Yes, Drinkwater, what is it?'

'There is great movement of ice coming down from the south east, I observed the spar buoys were merely spun by the floes whereas I fear a larger object like a boat…'

'Oh, I doubt that, Drinkwater,' put in Captain Otway, 'a boat is a more substantial body with a stem to deflect the floes, no a boat, my lord, with a mast and flag…'

'And a lantern,' added Graves.

Drinkwater flushed as Nelson confirmed the opinion. 'Very well then, a boat it shall be. Don't be discouraged