The Bomb Vessel

'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 Mr Drinkwater, your exertions have justified you in my opinion, and Captain Dommett will write you orders to have your bomb vessel in the line when we attack the Danes.'

'Thank you, my lord.'

'And now will you be so kind as to direct Fothergill that when he returns to Cruizer he is to have one of the brig's boats placed in accordance with our decision.'

Drinkwater slept in a chair in Amazon's wardroom as the frigate reached the end of the Holland Deep, sighted his spar buoy and turned north to order Fox anchored south of Lark. Nelson had concluded there was ample room to anchor his division off the southern end of the Middle Ground out of range of the Danish guns. The wind had veered again and Amazon had to beat laboriously back through the Holland Deep to report to Sir Hyde Parker. This delay enabled Drinkwater to sleep off most of his exhaustion.

He was pulled back to Virago with Fothergill who handed him his copy of the chart before leaving for Cruizer and his own trip south to replace Drinkwater's buoy.

'The cartography isn't up to your own standard, Mr Drinkwater, but it'll serve.'

Drinkwater unrolled the corner of the chart. 'A midshipman's penmanship if I ain't mistaken,' he grinned at Fothergill. 'Your servant, Mr Fothergill…' Reaching up for the manropes he hauled himself up Virago's side, the chart rolled in his breast.

'Welcome back, sir,' said Rogers.

'Thank you. Where's Mr Tumilty?'

'Here, sir, here I am Nat'aniel…'

'I owe you five guineas, Tom…'

'You do? By Jesus, what did I tell 'ee, Mr Rogers, that's five from you too…' Tumilty burst into a fit of gleeful laughter. 'An' it's All Fool's Day so it is.'

'All ready, Mr Drinkwater?' Drinkwater leaned over the rail to look down at Nelson in his barge. He was an unimpressive sight, his squared cocked hat at a slouch and an old checked overcoat round his thin shoulders.

'We await only your signal to weigh, my lord.'

'Very good. Instruct that Irish devil to make every shot tell.'

'Aye, aye, my lord.' Nelson nodded to his coxswain and the barge passed to the next ship in his division.

An hour later the greater part of the British force placed under Lord Nelson's orders stood to the southward, leaving the two three deckers, St George and London, four seventy-fours and two sixty-fours with Sir Hyde Parker at their anchorage at the north end of the Middle Ground. Passing slowly south under easy sail between the lines of improvised buoys and the anchored warning vessels Drinkwater was able to steady his glass on the horizon to the westward.

Preoccupation with other matters had not given him leisure to study the object of all their efforts, the city of Copenhagen. Above its low stretch of roofs the bulk of the Amalienbourg Palace was conspicuous. So were several fantastic and exotic spires. That of Our Saviour's church had a tall elongated spire with an exterior staircase mounting its side, while that of the Borsen was equally tall and entwined by four huge serpents.

But in the foreground the fortress of Trekroner, the Three Crowns, and the batteries of the Lynetten that lay before them, guarded the approaches to the city and combined with the line of blockships, cut down battleships, floating batteries, frigates and gun vessels to form a formidable defensive barrier. The enemy was only a little over two miles away, just out of range, though an occasional shot was fired at the British as they boldly crossed the Danish front.

Nelson made few signals to his ships. At half past five he ordered the Ardent and Agamemnon to take the guard duty for the night and shortly after eight in the evening, the wind falling light and finally calm, the last ship came to her anchor in the crowded road. This was Cruizer, withdrawn from her station as a mark vessel.

As Virago came to her own anchor at about six-fifteen, Nelson made the signal for the night's password.

'Spanish jack over a red pendant. What does that signify, Mr Q?'

'Er… "Winchester", sir.'

'Very well. Pass word I want all the officers to dine with me this evening within the hour. I anticipate further work later in the night.'

'Aye, aye, sir.' It would scarcely be a 'dinner' since the galley stove was now extinguished and Tumilty and Trussel had begun to make their preparations for action, but Jex could hustle up something and Drinkwater wished to speak to them all.