'Keep her full and bye, Tregembo!' Drinkwater could feel the sweat prickling his armpits. He took his eye off Cruizer for a second and saw how the stern of the grounded Russell was perceptibly nearer.
'Hecla's having the same trouble, Nat,' Rogers muttered consolingly.
'That's bloody cold comfort!' snapped Drinkwater, suddenly venomous. Were they to go aground ignominiously after all their tribulations? He snapped the compass vanes shut and pocketted the little instrument.
'Set all sail, Mr Rogers, and lively about it!'
Rogers did not even bother to acknowledge the order. 'Tops there! Aloft and shake out the t'gallants! Fo'c's'le! Hoist both jibs…'
Easton had jumped down into the waist and was chivvying the waisters onto the topgallant halliards.
'Get those fucking lobsters to tail on, Easton. You there! Aloft and let fall the main course…'
The loose canvas flopped downwards, billowed and filled. Virago heeled a little more. Here and there a knife flashed to cut a kink jammed in a sheave but the constant days of battling with gales, of making and reducing sail now brought its own dividends and the Viragos caught something of the urgency of the hour.
The bomb vessel increased her speed, leaning to leeward with the water foaming along her side.
'Up helm and ease her a point.' Drinkwater had not taken his eyes off Cruizer's stern. Suddenly the men looked up from coiling the ropes to see the brig's stern very close as they sped past, with a row of faces watching the old bomb vessel going into action.
Brisbane raised his hat, 'Tally ho, Drinkwater, by God! Tally ho and mind the mud!'
Drinkwater felt the thrill of exhilaration turn to that of fear as the deck heaved beneath his feet.
'God damn and blast it!' screamed Rogers, beside himself with angry frustration, but suddenly they were free and a ragged cheer broke from those who realised that for an instant their keel had struck the Middle Ground.
In a moment they could bear up for the battle…
'Larboard bow, sir!' Drinkwater looked up. Coming round Cruizer's bow was Explosion, just swinging before the wind to make her own approach to her station. Drinkwater could not luff without colliding or losing control of Virago, neither dare he bear away for a little longer since Russell was indicating the bank dangerously close to his starboard side. He resolved to stand on, aware that Martin was screeching something at him through a trumpet.
'Damn Captain Martin,' he muttered to himself, but a chorus of 'Hear, hear!' from Rogers and Easton indicated the extent of his concentration. Martin was compelled to let fly his sheets to check Explosion's headway.
'Up helm, Tregembo… reduce sail again!'
Astern Martin was still shouting as Explosion, closely followed by Volcano, Terror and Discovery weathered the Cruizer and the Middle Ground.
'For what we are about to receive, may we be truly… Jesus!' A storm of shot swept Virago's deck. They had left astern Désirée, anchored athwart the Danish line with a spring straining on her cable, and Polyphemus was drawing onto the larboard quarter. She too was anchored, though by the stern. As Virago crossed the gap between Polyphemus and the next anchored ship, the Isis, a broadside from Provesteenen hit her, cutting up the rigging and sails and wounding the foremast. On their own starboard side they had already passed Russell, flying the signal for distress and with flat-boats heaving out cables from her bow and stern while cannon shot dropped all round them. As they passed Bellona a terrific bang occurred and screams rent the air.
Beside Drinkwater Lieutenant Tumilty wore a seraphic smile. 'Gun exploded,' he explained for the benefit of anyone interested. Bellona's guns were returning the Danish fire and Drinkwater looked ahead. From this close range the enemy defences took on a different aspect. From a distance the exiguous collection of prames, radeaus, cut down battleships, floating batteries, transports and frigates had had a cheap, thread-bare look about them, compared with the formal naval might of Great Britain with its canvas, bunting and wooden walls. But from the southern end of the King's Deep it looked altogether different. Already Bellona and Russell were of little use, although both returned fire and strove throughout the day to get afloat again. Against the remaining ships the massed cannon of the Danish defences looked formidable. Spitting fire and smoke, the blazing tiers of guns were the most awesome sight Drinkwater had ever seen.
The gaps between the British ships were greater now, occasioned by the loss of Bellona and Russell from the line. Shot whined over the decks, ripping holes in the sails and occasionally striking splinters from Virago's timber.
There was a scream as the bomb vessel received her first casualty, an over-curious artilleryman who spun round and fell across the ten-inch mortar hatch while his shattered head flew overboard.
The Danes were defending their very hearths, and kept up the gunfire by continually sending reinforcements from the shore to relieve their tired men, and sustain the hail of shot against the British.
Virago's fore topgallant was shot away as she passed Edgar, engaged against the Jutland, an old, cut down two-decker. Rogers leapt forward, temperamentally unable to remain inactive for long in such circumstances. He began to clear the mess while Drinkwater concentrated upon the calls of the leadsman in the starboard chains. Beyond Jutland the odd square shapes of two floating batteries and a frigate were firing at both Edgar and the next ship ahead, Bligh's Glatton. The former East Indiaman which had once compelled a whole squadron to surrender to her deadly, short range batteries of carronades was keeping up a terrific fire. Most of her effort was concentrated on her immediate opponent, another cut-down battleship, the Dannebrog, flagship of the Danish commander, Commodore Olfert Fischer. But Virago did not pass unmolested, three more men were wounded and another killed as the storm of shot swept them.
'Bring her to starboard a little, Mr Easton, and pass word to Mr Matchett, Mr Q, to watch for my signal to anchor; we are almost on our station abeam the admiral.'
The two officers acknowledged their orders.
Drinkwater studied Elephant for a moment. He could see the knot of glittering officers on her quarterdeck in the sunshine. Beyond the flagship lay the Ganges and then a gap, filled with boats pulling up and down the line. Just visible in the smoke were Monarch and Graves's flagship Defiance, and somewhere ahead of them, in the full fire of the heavy batteries of the Trekroner Forts, were Riou and his frigates.
'Bring the ship to the wind, Mr Easton.' Virago began to turn. 'You may begin your preparations, Mr Tumilty.' As they had closed Elephant the Irishman had been observing his targets and taking obscure measurements with what looked like a pelorus.
To his astonishment Tumilty winked. 'And now, my dear Nat'aniel, you'll see why we've brought all this here.' Leprechaun-like he hopped onto the foredeck and began to bawl instructions at his artillerymen.