The Bomb Vessel

'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.

Touching his hat to the quarterdeck and announcing himself to the astonished marine sentry at the entry port Drinkwater collared a passing midshipman and looked round. The tail of a posse of officers was disappearing under the poop and Drinkwater guessed they followed Nelson into his cabin.

'His lordship, cully, upon the instant…' he growled at the boy.

Nelson was dismissing the entourage of officers, rubbing his forehead and pleading fatigue as Drinkwater pushed through them.

'What is your business, sir?' Drinkwater found himself confronted by a tall man in the uniform of a senior captain. The midshipman had melted away.

'By your leave sir, a word with his lordship…'

'What the devil is it, Foley?'

'An officer who requests a word with you.' Foley half turned and Nelson appeared in the doorway of the great cabin.

'My lord, I beg a moment of your time…'

Nelson was frowning. 'I know you!'

'I entreat your lordship to permit me to assist in the surveying and buoyage duties attending the fleet's approach to Copenhagen…' He felt Foley's hand upon his arm.

'Come sir, this is no time…'

'No, wait, Foley.' Nelson's one good eye glittered, though his face was grey with fatigue. 'Let us hear what the lieutenant has to say.'

'I was employed during the last peace in the buoy yachts of the Trinity House…'

'The Trinity House has provided us with pilots who do not share your enthusiasm, Mr, er…?'

'Drinkwater, my lord. You misunderstand me. These men are from the Trinity House at Hull, unfamiliar with the techniques of buoy-laying. The buoy yachts of the London House are constantly about the matter.'

There was a pause, then Nelson asked: 'Have I not seen you somewhere before, Mr Drinkwater?'

'Aye, my lord, at Syracuse in ninety-eight. I was first of the brig Hellebore…'

'The Hellebore?' Nelson frowned.

'You sent her to the Red Sea to warn Admiral Blankett of French intentions in Egypt.'

'Ah, I recollect. And all to no avail, eh, Mr Drinkwater?' Nelson smiled wearily.

'Not at all, my lord, we destroyed a French squadron and brought home a fine French thirty-eight.'

'Ah…' Nelson smiled again, the wide, mobile mouth that betrayed the wild passion of his nature showed too that he was still a man of no great age.

'Mr Drinkwater,' he said after a moment's consideration in the rather high-pitched Norfolk accent that he never attempted to disguise, 'your zeal commends you. What ship are you in?'

'I command the bomb-tender Virago, my lord. She has two mortars mounted and an artillery lieutenant as keen to use 'em as myself…' he held the admiral's penetrating gaze.

'The ruddy Irishman that was at this morning's conference aboard London, eh?'

'The same, my lord.'

'I shall take note of your remarks and employ you and your ship as seems most desirable. I will acquaint Captain Brisbane of the Cruizer of your familiarity with the matter now urgently in hand. In the meantime, I must ask you to excuse me, I am most fearfully worn out… Foley be a good fellow and see Mr Drinkwater off…'

'Thank you, my lord.' Drinkwater withdrew, never having thought to have an admiral ask to be excused, nor such a senior post-captain to escort him to his boat.

'I hope you are able to make good your claims, Mr Drinkwater,' remarked Foley.

'I have no doubt of it, sir.'

'The admiral's condescension is past the tolerable limits of most of us,' the captain added with a touch of irony, handing over the importunate Drinkwater to the officer of the watch.

But Drinkwater ignored the gentle rebuke. He felt the misconstruction placed upon his presence with Lady Parker at Yarmouth was now effaced. He had glimpsed that Nelson touch at Syracuse and now he knew it for what it really was. In contrast with the tradition of self-seeking that had divided and bedevilled fleet operations for generations, Nelson was destined to command men united in purpose, whose loyalty to each other overrode petty considerations of self. They might not triumph before the well-prepared defences of Copenhagen but if they failed they would do so without disgrace. In the last words of Edmund Burke, if die they must, they would die with sword in hand.

'Now gentlemen,' Drinkwater looked round the circle of faces: Rogers, the assembled warrant officers, the red-faced coat of Tumilty, the thin visage of Quilhampton. 'Well gentlemen, we are to split our forces. Mr Tumilty is to continue his preparations with his party under the direct command of Mr Rogers who will assume command of the ship in my absence. The three watches will be taken by Messrs Trussel, Matchett and Willerton who will also attend to those other duties as may from time to time be required of them. Messrs Easton and Quilhampton will provide themselves with the materials on this list and select a boat's crew which is to be adequately wrapped up against the cold. Mr Lettsom, you and Mr Jex will serve additionally to your established duties to second those other officers as they require it, or as Mr Rogers or myself deem it necessary. This is a time for great exertion, gentlemen, I do not expect to have to recall anyone of you to your duty but there will be little rest in the next few days until the matter presently resolved upon is brought to a conclusion. What that conclusion will be rests largely upon the extent of our endeavours. Is that understood?'