When Arthur inspected the town he was horrified to see the damage that had been inflicted.Wide stretches of ground were little more than charred ruins and most buildings had been damaged by round shot that had carried away chimneys, smashed through roofs and walls and left the streets littered with debris. Then there were the bodies. In places they had been laid out neatly and covered with blankets. There had been little time to bury them as the citizens had struggled to fight the fires and find shelter for themselves and their families. But there were still hundreds sprawled in the street or buried in the ruins and the air was thick with the sickly sweet smell of corpses rotting in the heat of the late summer.
By the terms of the treaty the Danes gave up their fleet, together with those naval stores and supplies that had survived the bombardment. In return Britain agreed to quit Copenhagen as soon as the troops could be embarked. Over the following days the heavy guns were carefully loaded back on board their transports and then the infantry battalions followed suit. Arthur’s brigade was the last to go aboard the final squadron of warships that lay at anchor in the harbour. He had received reports that a French corps was on the march towards Copenhagen and the leading elements were already little more than a day’s march from the city.While the other battalions waited on the quay to be rowed out to the warships Arthur took command of the rearguard and positioned them in a cordon around the dock area.
The streets were eerily silent as the Danish inhabitants hid away, bolting their doors and shuttering their windows before retreating further inside to pray for their deliverance. Arthur stood in the tower of the customs house resting his telescope on the back of a chair as he fixed his attention on a French cavalry patrol that had appeared on a low rise inland that overlooked the capital. Well, let them look, he mused to himself. They were already too late. The Danish fleet had weighed anchor and was already on its way across the North Sea to Britain. Eighteen ships of the line together with twelve frigates. Those ships undergoing repairs in the dry docks had been fired a few days earlier and only the skeletal remains of their great timbers remained.
He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw General Stewart climbing into the tower behind him.
‘How is the loading proceeding?’
‘Almost done with the first battalion, sir.’ Stewart saluted.‘The second should be aboard within an hour or so.Then it’s just the rearguard.’
‘Very well. I shall be glad when we have quit this place.’
Stewart nodded.‘I am sure that some in Britain will say that this was not our finest hour.’
‘That is true. However, we must let them say what they like as long as they leave the soldiering to us.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right then, time to be off.’ Arthur took a last look at the enemy cavalry scouts, and was about to collapse his spyglass when a new movement caught his eye. Just to one side of the enemy horsemen the head of a column of infantry had appeared and was already pouring down the far slope and marching towards Copenhagen as swiftly as they could. Arthur waited a moment longer so that he could ascertain their strength. When the first three battalions had crossed over the rise he snapped his glass shut and stood up stiffly. ‘We have company.’
Stewart scanned the horizon, saw what Arthur had seen and nodded. ‘They’ll reach the city within the hour.’
‘Yes,’ Arthur responded dully. ‘Best prepare for them. Have the rearguard occupy the buildings along the waterfront.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Stewart saluted and disappeared back down the stairs.Arthur stared at the French for a few minutes longer, gauging the pace of their advance.They were making good time and he felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realised they would reach the quay well before the last men of the brigade could quit the city.
‘This is going to take some careful timing,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Very careful timing.’
Down on the quayside, the last companies of the other battalions were being herded aboard the launches as Arthur emerged from the customs house. He marched along the quay making sure that his men were well placed to guard the approaches to the embarkation area.Time seemed to crawl as the boats rowed steadily to and fro between the ships and the waiting soldiers, and Arthur tried not to let himself fret at the time it took his men to climb aboard and take their seats on the thwarts before each small vessel was fended away and the oars dipped into the calm sea to power the boat to the waiting warships.
Then at last he heard the drums of the approaching French soldiers and almost at once the crackle of musketry as they ran into the first of the British outposts.The sound quickly increased in intensity as General Stewart came striding up to join him.
‘Now we’re in for it, sir.’
‘Yes, quite,’ Arthur replied absently as he tried to gauge the direction of the main thrust of the enemy. ‘Seems to be heaviest towards the left flank. As soon as the next boat reaches the quay pull back one company at a time from our right and have them embark as swiftly as possible. Have the Grenadier Company form up on the quay.’
‘Yes, sir.’
As the firing continued to the left, the battalion’s line began to shorten from the right as one company at a time withdrew and trotted along the quay and down the stone steps to the waiting boats. Arthur was glad to see that one of the warship captains had taken the initiative of placing two launches armed with carronades in the bows to cover the evacuation of the last troops. When there were only two companies left ashore, Arthur had one form up around the steps and then sent a runner to the flank company still holding the houses that covered the approaches to the quayside to order them to fall back. A short time later a handful of redcoats came trotting into sight, then some more, and finally the stragglers and wounded, with several men fighting a rearguard action as they fired and then retreated to new cover.
Arthur filled his lungs and called out calmly, ‘Grenadier Company! Stand to!’
The men in front of the steps dressed their line and stood waiting with muskets grounded as their comrades from the Light Company hurried towards them. The captain, breathing heavily, drew up in front of Arthur and saluted.
‘Enemy’s going to be on us any moment, sir. I also saw some parties making off down side streets to try to outflank us.’ He turned and gestured towards the buildings crowding the edge of the quayside. Just then Arthur caught sight of a figure in one of the narrow alleys leading into the dock quarter. An instant later there was a flash, a puff and a crack and a musket ball whirred overhead.
‘Very well, Captain. Get your men aboard the launches.’
The officer saluted and stood by the top of the stairs as he urged his men on. As the wounded were helped into the first boat and the rearguard turned and trotted to catch up with the rest of the company, the head of the French column swarmed out on to the quay, a tricolour swirling through the air above their shakos and glinting bayonets. At the same time, more enemy soldiers were emerging from the alleys, cheering as they caught sight of the small band of redcoats remaining to face them.