‘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?’
There was a chorus of assent. ‘Very well, any questions?’
‘Aye sir,’ it was Matchett, the boatswain.
‘Yes?’
‘Are we to stand in the line of bombs, sir, as I’ve heard?’ Drinkwater shot a glance at Tumilty whose innocent eyes were studying the deckhead.
‘I cannot tell you at present, Mr Matchett.’ A murmur of disappointment ran through the little assembly. ‘All I can say is that I represented our case to Lord Nelson himself not an hour since . . .’
There was a perceptible brightening of faces. ‘That is all, gentlemen.’
‘Sir! Beg pardon, sir.’
‘Yes, what is it?’ Drinkwater turned from the boatswain to Mr Quilhampton.
‘For this surveying, sir, the tablet and board . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, sir, I can hold a pencil in my right hand but . . .’ Quilhampton held up the hook that terminated his left arm.
‘Damn it, I had clean forgot, accept my apologies, Mr Q . . .’ Drinkwater tore his mind off the instructions he was giving to Matchett and rubbed his forehead.
‘Why don’t ’e see Mr Willerton, sir. Carpenter’d knock him up a timber claw to hold anything, sir.’
‘See to it, Mr Q, obliged to you Mr Matchett, now to the matter of these buoys. I want as many nets as you can knock up, about a fathom square, use any old rope junk but the mesh must be small enough to stop a twenty-four pound ball from escaping. Fit the boat up with coils of ten fathoms of three inch rope, enough for as many nets as you make. Then I want some of those deal planks left over from fitting the magazines, you know, the ones that Willerton has been hiding since Chatham, and small stuff sufficient to square lash ’em into a cross. No, damn it we’ll nail ’em. Then I want a dozen light spars, boat-hook shafts, spare cannon ramrods, that sort of thing, all fitted with wefts of bunting. Get the duty watch cracking on that lot at once.’
‘How many balls to each net, sir?’
‘Four’ll be too heavy to manhandle over the gunwhale, better make it three.’
‘Then we can make the nets a little smaller, sir.’
Drinkwater nodded, ‘See to it then.’ He turned aft and caught sight of the purser. ‘Oh, Mr Jex!’
‘Sir?’
‘Mr Jex, Mr Tumilty has asked me that it be specially impressed upon you that your party of firemen be adequately trained in the use of pump and hoses. When we go into action their efforts are required throughout the period the mortars are in use.’
‘When we go into action sir?’ Jex queried uncertainly. ‘But I thought that the matter was not yet . . .’
‘I hope that we will soon know . . . ah, Mr Willerton are you able to help Mr Q? You have little time . . .’
Drinkwater did not see the pale face of Mr Jex staring with disbelief at his retreating figure.
Half an hour later Drinkwater reported to Brisbane aboard Cruizer.
‘Now see here, Drinkwater, what we achieved last night in the way of buoying the channel was little enough.’ Brisbane leant over the sheet of cartridge paper spread upon the table in Cruizer’s cabin. On it the brig’s master, William Fothergill, had pencilled in the outline of the islands of Saltholm and Amager. Upon the latter stood the city of Copenhagen. Also drawn in were the approximate limits of the shallow water.
‘We are attempting to find out the five fathom line which will give us ample water for Nelson’s squadron. Happily for us the tidal range hereabouts is negligible, although a strong southerly wind will reduce the water on the Middle Ground . . .’
‘So I understand, sir.’
‘Last night we sounded for the eastern limit of the Holland Deep, here, along the Saltholm shore and laid four buoys . . .’
‘What are you using for buoys, sir?’
‘Water casks weighted with three double-headed shot, why?’
‘With respect, sir, though adequate, the casks may be difficult to see, particularly if the sea is covered with sea-smoke as has been the case the last three mornings. May I suggest planks or short spars lashed or nailed in a cross with a hole drilled for a light pole. Ropes stoppered at the ends of the planks and drawn together to a becket at the base of the pole will afford a securing for the mooring and assist the pole to remain upright. If the pole carries a weft or flag I believe you will find this method satisfactory . . .’
‘Damn good idea, sir,’ put in Fothergill, ‘and if necessary a lantern may be hung from the pole.’
‘Quite so.’ The three men straightened up from the chart smiling.
‘Very well, Mr Drinkwater, so be it. Now Mr Fothergill is about to ink in what we have done so far and then this chart will go across to Captain Riou aboard Amazon. From now on all surveying reports are to be returned to Amazon where this chart is to be completed. I understand they have a squad of middies and clerks making copies for all the ships as the information comes in.’
The meeting closed and Drinkwater urged his oarsmen to hurry back to Virago. Already his acti
ve mind was preparing itself for the coming hours. Away to the southward of them Amazon was anchored off Saltholm, together with the Lark and the other brig, Harpy, and the cutter Fox. Boats were out with leadsmen, their cold crews struggling through the floes of ice that reminded them all that further to the eastward the pack was breaking up and every day brought the combination of a Russian fleet closer. Even before they reached Virago, Cruizer was underway again with Lord Nelson on board to reconnoitre the enemy position.
It was late afternoon on the 31st before Drinkwater and his two boats pulled away from Virago’s side. Astern of them each towed the materials for two buoys, dismantled and lashed together so as not to inhibit the efforts of the oarsmen. Each boat was heavily laden with nets of round shot in the bilges, small barricoes of water under the thwarts and each oarsman had his feet on a coil of rope and a cutlass. The oars were double-banked with two spare men huddled in the bow. All, officers and men alike, were muffled in sheepskins and woollen scarves, mittens and assorted headgear. All had had a double ration of spirits before leaving the ship and two kegs of neat rum were stowed under the stern sheets of each boat. Mr Jex had protested at the extravagance but had been quietly over-ruled by Drinkwater.
Quilhampton sat in the stern next to his commander. His new left hand had been hurriedly fashioned from a lump of oak and was able to hold both a tiller and a notebook.
‘It’s good enough for the present,’ Quilhampton had said earlier, and added with a grin, ‘and impervious to the cold.’
Drinkwater felt the pressure of the crude hand against his arm as Quilhampton swung the boat to avoid an ice floe. On his own hands he wore fur mitts over a pair of silk stockings. Experiment had shown he could manage a pencil by casting off the mittens on their lanyard, and using his fingers through the stockings.
They headed for Amazon, reaching the frigate an hour after sunset, and Drinkwater reported to Captain Edward Riou. Not many years older than Drinkwater himself, Riou had made his reputation ten years earlier when he had saved the Guardian after striking an iceberg in the Southern Ocean. His remarkable energy had not deserted him and he had given up command of a battleship to carry out his special duties in the frigate Amazon. He fixed his bright, intelligent eyes on Drinkwater as the latter explained his ideas for buoying the edges of the shoals.
‘You will find Brisbane has anchored Cruizer at the north end of the Middle Ground with lights hoisted as a mark for all the boats out surveying. I have instructed the masters and officers now out sounding, to anchor their boats on the five fathom line until relieved by the launches carrying the buoys, but I admit the superiority of your suggestion. In view of your experience then, you should take your boats to the southern end of the Holland Deep and establish the run of the Middle Ground to the southward. It is essential that both limits of the Deep are buoyed out by the morning and, if possible, that it’s southernmost extension is discovered. Lord Nelson desires to move his squadron south tomorrow and to make his attack upon the Danish line from a position at the southern end of the Middle Ground.’
Virago’s two boats lay gunwhale to gunwhale in the darkness. While Quilhampton supervised the issue of rum, Drinkwater gave Easton his final instructions.
‘We steer west by compass, Mr Easton, until you find five fathoms, when you are to drop your anchor and show a light. I will pull round you to establish the general trend of the bottom at a distance of sixty or seventy yards. If I am satisfied that we’ve discovered the edge of the bank I will pull away from you to the south south east until I am approximately a cable southward, then I will turn west and sound for the five fathom line and signal you with three lights when I am anchored. If your bearing has not altered greatly we may reasonably assume the line of the bank to be constant between the two boats. If there is a great change it will show the trend of the bank towards the east or west and we will buoy it. Do you understand?’
‘Perfectly sir.’
‘Very well, now we will lay a buoy at the first point to determine the starting position, so make ready and take a bearing from Cruizer when it is laid.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘Very well, let’s make a start. Give way, Mr Q.’
The night was bitterly cold and the leadsmen were going to become very wet. The wind remained from the north and the sea, though silent, was vicious enough for the deep boats, sending little patters of freezing spray into their faces so that first they ached intolerably and then they numbed and the men at the oars became automata. Just within sight of each other the two boats pulled west, the boat-compasses on the bottom boards lit by lanterns at the officers’ feet. Forward the leadsman chanted, his line specially shortened to five fathoms so as not to waste time with greater depths.
Drinkwater kneaded the muscle of his right upper arm which was growing increasingly painful the longer they remained in this cold climate. The knotted fibres of the flesh sent a dull ache through his whole chest as the hours passed and he cursed Edouard Santhonax, the man who had inflicted the wound.
The shout of ‘Bottom!’ was almost simultaneous from the two boats and Drinkwater nodded for Quilhampton to circle Easton’s boat, listening to his leadsman while the splash over the bow of the other boat indicated where Easton got his anchor overboard. Drinkwater picked up the hand-bearing compass. He would need the shaded lantern to read it but they were roughly west of Easton now.
‘Five, five, no bottom, five, four, three, shoaling fast, sir!’
‘Very well, bring her round to the northward,’ he said to Quilhampton, staring at the dark shape of the other boat which had swung to the wind.
‘Three, three, four, three, four, three . . .’
‘Bring her to starboard again, Mr Q.’ The oars knocked rhythmically against the thole pins and spray splashed aboard.
‘. . . three, three, four, four, five . . . no bottom sir, no bottom . . .’ He looked back at Easton and then at the boat compass. Easton was showing a light now; presumably he had made his notes and could afford to exhibit the guttering lantern on the gunwhale.
‘Head south, now, Mr Q, pass across his stern so we can hail him.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘Everything all right, Mr Easton?’
‘Aye, sir. We anchored to the buoy sinker and have almost readied the first buoy . . .’ The sound of hammering came from the boat.
‘Keep showing your light, Mr Easton. Head south south east, Mr Q, pull for three minutes then turn west.’
Beside him Quilhampton began to whisper, ‘One, and two, and three, and four . . .’
Drinkwater kept his eyes on the light aboard Easton’s boat. Presently he felt the pressure of the tiller as Quilhampton turned west. He listened to the leadsman’s chant.
‘No bottom, no bottom, no bottom . . . no bottom, five!’
‘Holdwater all! Anchor forrard there!’
A splash answered Quilhampton’s order, followed by the thrum of hemp over a gunwhale. ‘Oars . . . oars across the boat . . .’
The men pulled their looms inboard and bent their heads over their crossed arms. Backs heaved as the monotonous labour ceased for a while. Drinkwater took a bearing of Easton’s feeble light and found it to be north by east a half east.
‘Issue water and biscuit, Mr Q.’ He raised his voice. ‘Change places, lads, carefully now, we’ll have grog issued when we lay the first buoy. Well done the leadsman. Are you very wet Tregembo?’
‘Fucking soaked, zur.’ There was a low rumble of laughter round the boat.
‘Serves ’ee right for volunteerin’,’ said an anonymous voice in the darkness and they all laughed again.
‘Right, we wait now, for Mr Easton. Give him the three lights Mr Q.’
Quilhampton raised the lantern from the bottom boards and held it up three times, receiving a dousing of Easton’s in reply, but then the master’s lantern reappeared on the gunwhale and nothing seemed to happen for a long time. A restive murmur went round the boat as the perspiration dried on the oar
smen and the cold set in, threatening to cramp ill-nourished and overexerted muscles.
‘I daresay he’s experiencing some delay in getting the buoy over,’ said Drinkwater and, a few moments later the light went out. Five minutes afterwards Easton was hailing them.
‘We tangled with a boat from Harpy, sir. He demanded what we were doing in his sector.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Said we were from Virago executing Lord Nelson’s orders, he used the password “Westmoreland” to which I replied “Northumberland”.’
‘Did that satisfy him?’
‘Well he said he’d never heard of Virago, sir, but Lord Nelson sounded familiar and would we be kind enough to find out how far to the south this damned bank went.’
‘Only too happy to oblige . . . sound round me then carry on to the south . . .’
‘D’you think the Danes’ll attack us, sir?’ asked Quilhampton.
‘To be frank I don’t know; if ’twas the French doing this at Spithead I doubt we would leave ’em unmolested. On the other hand they seem to have made plenty of preparations to receive us and may wish to lull us a little. Still, it would be prudent to keep a sharp lookout, eh?’
‘Aye, sir.’
They waited what seemed an age before the three lights were shown from Easton’s boat then they continued south, the men stiff with cold and eager to work up some warmth. After sounding round the master’s boat they left it astern, the lead plopping overboard as the oars thudded gently against the thole pins.
As the leadsman found the five fathom line the boat was anchored to the net of round shot on its ten fathom line and Drinkwater had the oars brought inboard and stowed while they prepared the buoy. Hauling alongside the four planks and two spars the men pulled them aboard, dripping over their knees, and cast off the lashings.
‘Do you make sure the holes in the planks coincide before you nail ’em, Mr Q, or we’re in trouble . . .’
They hauled the awkward and heavy planks across the boat in the form of a cross and, holding the lantern up, aligned the holes. Nailing the planks proved more difficult than anticipated since the point at which the hammer struck was unsupported. Eventually the nails were driven home and spunyarn lashings passed to reinforce them.
The Bomb Vessel Page 18