Stewart made his way over to Arthur and nodded to the dunes rising up ahead of them. ‘Shall I post some pickets up there, sir?’
‘Yes, of course. See to it, please.’
Stewart took the nearest ten men of the Light Company and trotted away across the sand. Arthur watched him with a thoughtful look. He had been about to order the pickets forward himself and now Stewart would no doubt assume he had scored a point over his superior. At some point the man was going to have to be firmly reminded who was in charge. But there was no time for that now. Arthur turned towards the gap in the dunes, a quarter of a mile further along the beach, where the Danish horsemen had appeared earlier. He called the captain of the Light Company over.
‘Sir?’
‘See that gap?’
The captain followed the direction that Arthur pointed out. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Take the rest of your company over there and form them in line across it. They are not to fire on any Danish soldiers they may encounter. If we can avoid a confrontation we must.’
‘And if they fire on us, sir?’
‘Make every attempt to parley, first. If they are still not amenable to persuasion you may fire on them. Now off you go.’
As the captain led his men down the beach at the double Arthur glanced back towards the ships. The first boats were still rowing back and it would be at least half an hour before they returned. More boats were putting out from the other ships to help convey the rest of the brigade ashore, but Arthur estimated it would be some hours yet before his command was safely landed. He turned and strode up the beach to join Stewart and the pickets, spread out along the dunes.
From the top of the highest dune close to the beach there was a clear view over the surrounding landscape.The dunes continued inland for a few hundred paces before giving way to pastureland, where the tiny figures of cows and sheep dotted the fields. A vague haze and the spires Arthur had seen earlier indicated the direction of Copenhagen.
‘Any signs of activity?’
‘No, sir,’ Stewart replied. ‘But we can be sure the men we saw will have made their report by now. I’d guess we will have some company before too long.’
Arthur nodded. ‘It would seem likely. Tell the pickets to keep their eyes open. I’m going to join the Light Company. Send a runner the moment you sight anything.’
‘Yes, sir.’
They exchanged a brief salute before Arthur turned away and strode off through the dunes towards the men blocking the opening to the beach. The air was still and hot and insects buzzed drowsily amid the tufts of grass that clung to the sandy soil. He removed his cocked hat and mopped his brow, puffing his cheeks out as the heat became decidedly uncomfortable. Even so, he infinitely preferred to fight in such fine weather rather than the bitter freezing cold he had experienced the last time he had fought on the continent. That had been in the Low Countries early in the war, when a terrible winter and incompetence had cost the British army dear and convinced Arthur that he would always look to the welfare of his men first, wherever and whenever he was called upon to fight.
Once Arthur’s brigade had secured the beach, the rest of Lord Cathcart’s army began to land, and as night fell the dunes were illuminated by hundreds of campfires built from the stunted trees that grew on the fringes of the sand. Scores of cattle and sheep had been taken from the nearest farms and slaughtered, and now were roasting over the fires. Arthur was angry over such looting, knowing full well how it would be bitterly resented by the locals and make the task of securing the Danish fleet that much more difficult. But Lord Cathcart was unmoved by his protests.
‘Come now, Sir Arthur, we are here to steal a fleet!’The commander of the British army smiled as he carved a large chunk of meat from his steak. He was entertaining his senior officers in his command tent, erected in the shelter of the dunes. It had proved a poor spot to choose as the air was thick with midges.‘I think the odd bit of beef and mutton along the way will hardly matter.’
‘Precisely, sir,’ Arthur’s immediate senior, David Baird, added. ‘Spoils of war and all that.’ The conqueror of Seringapatam turned to Arthur and wagged a finger. ‘Ah, but I was forgetting. Seems you still harbour the same scruples concerning the local people as you did back in India.’
Arthur ignored the goading and kept his attention focused on Lord Cathcart. ‘It makes little sense to antagonise the local people if we can avoid it, sir. We are a small enough force as it is, and it would be better if we maintained good relations with the people whose lands we are obliged to pass through. It is my conviction that it always pays dividends in the long run.’
‘And it costs a small fortune to pay for local produce in the short term,’ Cathcart countered. ‘Besides, it is not as if the practice of living off the land is not without precedent.Why, Napoleon’s soldiers have all but turned it into a way of life.’
‘To their detriment, sir. Now farmers and landowners conceal their stock and grain stores at the first sign of the advance of a French army. With the result that the French troops are obliged to use force to discover the location of concealed supplies, which in turn promotes a bitter hatred and thirst for revenge amongst those whose lands they pass through. In the end they will be obliged to deploy as many men to protect their communications as they have available to fight the main force of their enemy.’ Arthur shook his head. ‘I would rather not burden the British army, small as it is, with such concerns if I could avoid it.’
Lord Cathcart thought about it for a moment, as he chewed on another large piece of steak, and then nodded.‘It’s a fair point,Wellesley. But what would you have me do? Hang those who purloin the odd specimen of livestock?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Arthur replied seriously. ‘I would. The lesson would be learned soon enough.’
‘Good God, man,’ Baird protested. ‘You would value an enemy pig or a sheep above the life of a British soldier?’
‘No. I would value the safety of a man’s comrades over the life of one looter. I would value the reputation of a British army over the needs of an individual soldier.That is all.’
Baird shook his head. ‘Mad. Quite mad,’ he muttered.
As they neared the city Arthur could see that the inhabitants had made some efforts to defend themselves. A ring of simple earthworks surrounded the approaches to Copenhagen and the muzzles of cannon could be seen protruding from the embrasures of some formidable-looking redoubts. In the distance, towering above the buildings of the city, were the masts of the Danish fleet, the prize the army had been sent to seize.
There was no question of the brigade’s leading an immediate attack and Arthur ordered his men to form an extended line around the earthworks to keep watch on the enemy until Lord Cathcart and the main body of the British army arrived, with the siege train that had been landed to batter the Danes’ defences.