They were anchored in its lee, four 74-gun ships-of-the-line with five frigates and smaller vessels, an unanswerable potency should the Danes dare to oppose them.
This was one of three entrances to the Baltic, all commanded by the Danes, but foreign vessels were restricted to just one, the direct passage past Kronborg and through the Sound. This was where the toll was collected, a substantial part of the state’s revenue. The two others – the Great Belt and the Little Belt – were kept from outsiders by the simple expedient of jealously guarding the secrets of their navigation.
The reputation of this narrow, reef-strewn passage was enough to deter all but the foolhardy and few ventured this way. But for the squadron there was no alternative.
* * *
Kydd was summoned to a bracing ‘all-captains’ meeting with Keats, who left no doubt about the conduct of their mission, the isolating of the Danish in Copenhagen on their island of Sj?lland.
‘Carry on,’ he told his transparently curious first lieutenant, as soon as he returned aboard Tyger. ‘And all officers to attend in my great cabin in an hour, if you please.’
‘Be seated, gentlemen,’ Kydd said, as his officers entered. ‘We shall dispense with formalities. Refreshments?’
The table was laid out with charts and the chairs left deliberately casual. They settled self-consciously, Bray’s heavy presence at one end dominating, Bowden and Brice on either side. The master wore a deep frown and seemed unsure where to sit.
Kydd addressed him first. ‘Now, Mr Joyce, I’ve had a good steer from the commodore as we can work to. Be that as it may, I’ll not hide it from you all. This is going to be a fraught exercise by any man’s reckoning.’ He found the Denmark chart and smoothed it out. ‘You’ll know that this country consists of the mainland – that’s the peninsula of Jutland – and its islands to the east. That’s Fyn, then our Sj?lland. Our duty is to completely surround and isolate this last to prevent any reinforcement or interference.’
Joyce hovered over the chart, muttering.
Kydd continued, ‘The hard part is getting through the Great Belt, for afterwards it’s an open sea swing around the southern islands to end up at the opposite end of the Sound to where we started. Clear?’
Bray caught his eye. ‘Then the squadron sails back an’ forth in this Great Belt while Admiral Gambier pastes the Danes on his side.’
‘No, sir. The commodore’s plan is to sail through and leave off a sail-o’-the-line here, a frigate there, at the most likely crossing points, while the rest sail on. Those left take station at Mon at the other end of the Sound, keeping a weather eye open for any who want to join the sport from the south’ard – remembering the whole coastline belongs to Boney now.’
‘Ye said it’d be a hard beat for us, Cap’n. I’m thinkin’ it’s going to be even worse’n ye fear, sir,’ Joyce worried. ‘There’s sailin’ masters gone mad, conning a ship o’ size through the Great Belt in light winds.’
‘Steady yourself, Mr Joyce. We’ve a sovereign remedy for your gripes – I’ve a complete sailing directions, thoughtfully made up by your colleagues in Nelson’s fleet the last time we were here. He gave out orders they were to take the opportunity to return by the Great Belt and survey a route as they went. It’s all there for you.’
Joyce found the pack and laid it out, then looked up accusingly. ‘This is no chart, sir! It’s a rutter o’ sorts. Safe bearin’s, transits an’ such – but this is proceedin’ to the north, an’ we’re southbound. So everything is back-bearings, breasting a current instead o’ going with it and-’
‘The squadron will be preceded by Mosquito brig-sloop. She’ll be going ahead with boats, laying dan-buoys as she goes.’
‘Hmmph.’
‘And we’ll be attending her as protector, should any interfere.’
Bowden wanted to know their position should they fall in with a Danish ship.
‘Well taken, Mr Bowden. As the commodore hasn’t had word yet of a higher level of who should say war, then the Danes are still neutrals. No firing, no battle. If they’re carrying troops or guns they’re politely told to take ’em back where they came from.’
‘But if they’re not so obliging?’
‘If they’re stubborn, we lay ourselves athwart their bows and if there’s gun-smoke, why, was it not they who started it?’
The delicacies dealt with, the best chart they had was consulted, a copy of a Lubecker some fifty years old and dense with pencilled comments in English.
‘So what are we facing? This chart and our notes tell us it’s one thing: currents. Fierce and unpredictable. Up to three, four knots, which means we have to find fair winds of at least that strength just to stay still. If the breeze dies, it’s a dismal fate awaits a ship caught in their grip. We might have our fairway buoyed for us but if we can’t stay with the course because of these currents …’
Chapter 60
The next day the squadron readied for the passage. Mosquito led off in the light north-westerly with four boats in tow, heading for the first hazards with Tyger a safe mile astern of her.
It was a seascape Kydd had never before seen: the numerous islands were flat and monotonous, dark green and iron grey-brown, so flat they could be seen from the deck only when close. And so many lay sprawled across their path.
The first barrier was between two larger islands acting as gatekeeper to the Great Belt. Using the notes from Nelson’s fleet, Mosquito’s boats made straight for the easternmost and, some hundred yards from its gently sloping end, began casting their lead. In twenty minutes they had a bottom profile established and the first two buoys were slipped.
With sails backed, Tyger lay hove to, lookouts primed.
The boats were recovered, and Mosquito moved into the more open waters beyond. Well astern of them, the squadron got under weigh. They were committed. There was no going back now: the north-westerly was foul for a return in these restricted waters.
A long spit stretched out from the coast, which hid a change of direction from south-west to south-east. The sloop stood off and her boats got to work again.
Kydd knew what they were after: the notes told of a deep-water channel the Danes called the dybe rende, a hollow depression that gave sure depths for any ship. The trouble was that the other function of a lead-line – to give notice of the kind of seabed at that point, sea-shells or mud perhaps to indicate location – did not come into play, for the scouring current kept the bottom a hard clay that could give no clue.
They found it: again, less than a mile out, and it was buoyed accordingly. Things were going well and they shaped course south-eastward past the island of Fyn to starboard and the main one of Sj?lland to larboard. From Tyger, Kydd watched astern as the topsails of the first ship-of-the-line appeared over the spit. It was Vanguard cautiously rounding. It would be a much more difficult matter for a ship so large and slow to respond and Kydd felt a surge of sympathy for her master. She came into full view but then, to his utter astonishment, she altered course, heading direct for the shore.
It was madness and had no meaning. The massive ship continued on her suicidal direction until her anchors roared out and she slewed to a stop, her sail hastily doused. Like a ponderous top, she began to rotate on her anchor cables until she steadied, facing the way she’d come.
A sure sign of one thing – unlike Tyger, which had been experiencing a mild current heading her, Vanguard’s deep draught had encountered a counter-current at her keel in the opposite direction. This had embedded the battleship in a mass of water going the same way as she was, and her rudder had lost all effect. It was a chilling demonstration of what they were dealing with. It took an agonising three hours for boats to haul the great ship-of-the-line out to the point where careful sounding had shown the sub-sea current to have diminished and she could set sail for the south.