“I understand,” Anne whispered. “I will tend him until you are ready.” She smoothed the hair away from Frederick’s forehead.
The doctor moved away as several sailors brought in the low tub. Men hauling buckets of icy seawater to fill the vessel followed them. Several glanced furtively at their commanding officer outstretched on his bed, unresponsive even to his wife’s tender ministrations.
“Will he make it?” one of the men whispered to the doctor.
“We are doing everything we can to assure that he does.” The physician motioned for another man to dump his bucket of seawater into the waiting tub.
When the cooling waters filled the vessel, the doctor turned to Anne. “It is ready, Mrs. Wentworth.” He reached out his hand to help her to her feet.“The officers and I will tend to your husband in the waters. You may hear the captain scream in pain, but you must not come back in here until I send for you.”
“Yes, I understand.” She leaned forward to kiss Frederick’s feverish lips before she left the room.“Please take care of him.” She allowed her hand to linger on her husband’s chest; finally, the doctor led her to the door.
“The captain is strong; he will be well.” Unconvinced, Anne nonetheless nodded at his words and left the area.
Four of the lower officers entered immediately . Lieutenants Harwood and Avendale began to strip the clothes from the captain’s body.“Be careful of opening up his wounds again,” the doctor cautioned.“You two, take off your jackets and your shirts.We are all likely to get soaked during this endeavor.” Mastermates Langdon and Shipley began to remove their own clothing.
When all five men were bare to the waist, they lifted Wentworth’s limp body from the bed. Positioning him as they might a body to lower it into a grave, they began to immerse Frederick’s form into the cooling seawaters. “Hold him steady,” the physician demanded. “He will fight you when the heat of his body hits the icy water. Do not let him go under completely.We want the water around his form, but we do not want it to cover his body.”
The men all nodded, tightening their holds on Frederick’s limbs. The doctor’s prediction played out immediately. Still out of his mind with fever,Wentworth twisted and turned, trying to break the hold his men enforced on him. Cries of pain filled the cabin as Frederick cursed their deceit and threatened their safety.Yet, with their combined strength, they held him.
The doctor dipped a cup in the water and poured it over Frederick’s body. Again and again, the doctor streamed water over his head and chest and legs, carefully avoiding the bandages around his abdomen. “Aah!”Wentworth gasped. “I will see you rot in hell for this!” Once again he wrenched his arms, trying to free himself, but his men held him in viselike grips.“You will hang for attacking an officer of the British Navy!”
And on it went for nearly three quarters of an hour until the tub water became closer to room temperature. Finally, they lifted him from the water. Drying him quickly, they pulled a nightshirt over his head and placed him back onto the freshly made bed. During this time, Frederick continued to fight them and to mutter curses while emitting moans of pain. The doctor considered all these good signs. He knew the shock of the cold water on the captain’s feverish body could cause an apoplexy; Wentworth’s fighting meant his body had not given up.
Finally, with the tub and water removed and the bandages checked, only the doctor remained by his side. He watched as Wentworth wrestled his way to consciousness; his eyes fluttered and fought for focus.“Where is Anne?” he mumbled.
“I sent her away so we might tend you. She has been here at the risk of her own health. I will have someone find her now that your fever is down.” The doctor checked Frederick’s forehead and looked into his eyes for signs of recovery.
Flashes of memory came to Frederick—thoughts of the senseless act that brought him to this point. Now, he knew the answers to all those questions with which Anne had bombarded him. His favorite place of all was a certain small seaside village in Italy. He preferred French wine to British. He hated it when she tickled his feet, but loved it when she kneaded the muscles of his back. So close to losing his life, Frederick could see it all plainly—how to analyze his experiences and know what was good, what mattered. “Will I live?” He licked his parched lips.
“You have a long recovery ahead of you.”
A light tap on the door claimed the doctor’s attention.“Enter!” he called out.
“Excuse me, Sir,” a midshipman reported. “Mrs. Wentworth sends word that she will be here in a moment. She is writing to Captain Harville; she wants word to be sent to him and to Captain Wentworth’s family as soon as we make port.”
“Thank you, Rogers.” The doctor turned back to his patient. “Did you hear,Wentworth?”
“Captain Harville is an old friend,” Frederick whispered.
“I remember him well; we all sailed together back in ’07 and ’08.” The physician adjusted the blanket across Wentworth’s body. “A pity that his leg wound drove him from the service; we could use such a man right now.”The captain gasped with pain as he tried to move in the bed. “Let me give you some laudanum.” He supported Frederick’s head as he administered the dose. “Rest now,” the doctor ordered him.
CHAPTER 4
Each lover has a theory of his own
About the difference between the ache
Of being with his love, and being alone.
—W.H.Auden,“Alone”
“Rest now,Wentworth,” Harville reassured him. “You have a ship at last.”
“She sure is not much, is she?” Frederick looked around at the condition of the sloop Asp.
“She may not be the largest ship on the sea, but the Admiralty found her fit to form part of the line in action. She has thirty guns, Frederick.” Harville moved up beside his friend as they surveyed Wentworth’s new command.
“What say the orders?” Wentworth asked as he motioned his assistant to store the captain’s belongings in his cabin.
When he delivered the news, Harville smiled broadly. “His Majesty desires our attention in the West Indies.”
“Who is the new lieutenant?” Wentworth gestured again, this time to his right.
“Harold Rushick.” Harville returned the salute offered by the first-rung commissioned officer. “He has much experience with gun divisions in battle and in dangerous boardings, and he is rumored to be most observant in overseeing the watch.We are lucky to have him on board.”
“Then I shall extend an invitation to dine with me.” Wentworth noted the man’s demeanor.“I want him on my side.”
The two started to stroll along the deck, each noting the ordinary seamen and landsmen as they loaded the Asp’s storage.“Have I told you I asked Milly to wait for me?”
“She is a fine woman, Thomas.” Wentworth’s thoughts immediately went to Anne Elliot.At least ten times a day, he found himself momentarily lost in thoughts of her. Even after two months, the pain still pierced his being. He never told Thomas Harville about his close encounter with love; Frederick could not bear to speak of the hurt. Each night she came to him in his dreams; Anne professed her love, and they walked hand-in-hand. He swallowed hard and forced Anne’s image into the recesses of his mind. “Milly will make you a fine wife.When do you plan to ask her?”
“I need to make my fortune before I can take a wife.” Harville paused along the railing, surveying the activities along the dock.
Again, Frederick thought of Anne; his potential was not enough to make her place her trust in him. Her betrayal sucked the air from his lungs. God, I love her! He would still win his fortune; he would show her someday what she missed by refusing him.“You will have your chance, Thomas; we will both have our chance.” Wentworth stepped up beside his friend. “Now, let us prepare for our journey. The Asp is our future!”
After nearly six months in the West Indies, Frederick received notice he was to join Higgins and others in an effort to prevent Napoleon from taking the Danish fleet. Frederick cal
led his officers together to share the news. “The British forces will be under the command of Admiral Gambier and General Cathcart.” Frederick walked over to refill his glass of brandy. His officers were gathered around the small table in his quarters.
“And the purpose of our mission would be?” Harville asked with feigned nonchalance before shooting Frederick a knowing glance.
“The Danish fleet is superb, but it could fall into Bonaparte’s hands if Denmark cannot defend its southern border. If Denmark falls, then my guess is we will be attacking its invaders in Copenhagen by mid-July.”
“Will that be all for now, Captain Wentworth?” Lieutenant Rushick asked, steadying his resolve.“If so, Sir, I will see to the men.”
“Certainly, Rushick. We will lift anchor when all the supplies are aboard. Gentlemen, you are dismissed.”
Once the room had emptied, except for Harville and himself, Frederick turned his attention to his friend.“And your look meant what,Thomas?” he asked as he sipped his drink.
“Something about this mission bothers you, Frederick,” Harville asserted as he took a seat. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at his ankles, while folding his arms across his chest.
Wentworth paused to consider his thoughts. “I feel a need to weigh my remarks,” he began at last. “In ’01 we had a legitimate reason to go up against the Danish. The Armed Neutrality of the North treaty threatened British trade in the Baltic Sea. But this time the Danish are on our side; we are reduced to the point of attacking our allies.The war makes strangers out of friends. Sometimes I wonder if I have the stomach for it.” He crossed the room to sit opposite his friend.
Harville uncrossed and recrossed his ankles.“I, too, would like to go home; I do not relish being a pawn in some high-ranking officer’s chess game.We came close to counting our own deaths at San Domingo. Duckworth was determined to catch those Frenchies.”
“We paid a high price; seventy casualties and nearly three hundred wounded. I admit I enjoy the spoils of war—men of my rank have few other ways to make a living—but the loss of life disturbs me. It seems that now we are asked to endanger the lives of good men in a futile battle. Perhaps I am feeling my own mortality.” Frederick took another mouthful of brandy and let it trickle down his throat.
“What happened in Somerset?” Harville asked abruptly.
“Why do you believe something happened in Somerset?” He attempted to smile.
“I cannot say for sure, but I know you are different now.You are often somber.”
Frederick put down his glass, trying to control the emotions shooting through him.“Perhaps seeing Edward struggle as a curate made me realize how little I have to offer anyone. My father, you see, was the third son in his family, so he had nothing to leave us.” He could not finish his thoughts without thinking of Anne Elliot; he would never be good enough for the Elliots.“I suppose I should be thankful for the opportunity the British Navy gives me; I shall leave the war with my fortune.”
“Once I have made my own fortune, I am headed home to Milly, and King George can go hang himself. I plan to arrive home in one piece and raise myself a crop of children.” Harville chuckled. “That is what you need, Wentworth—you need a woman to bring out the best in you. A man was meant to be at a woman’s beck and call,” he joked.
Frederick snorted. He realized he would eventually need to find a woman he could marry. But what woman, he thought, would want a man with only half a heart to give? Aloud, he asserted,“My life belongs to Admiral Gambier and the British Navy.”
As Wentworth predicted, July found his ship among those gathering along the Danish coastline.The men waited warily, playing cards to pass the time. Frederick lurked on the periphery, listening to snippets of conversations. He had learned in the past few years to judge his men’s readiness by how they handled the long hours of waiting before the battle began.
“You be with Sir Duckworth at Alexandria?” one of the carpenters asked as he shuffled the cards.
The gunner picked up his hand and began to rearrange it.“We carted infantry back and forth for days.”
“Me hears it was something to see.” Both men held warranted ranks aboard ship, but they had only limited opportunities to attain commissioned posts. Along with the pursur and the boatswain, they were part of the standing officers appointed to a ship by the Navy Board.
The gunner turned his cards over.“We took care of the landies; that be for sure. Despite high surf, Lieutenant Boxer disembarked almost seven hundred troops, five field guns, and fifty-six seamen. They breached the palisades entrenched sometime after nightfall. The spirits and old Neptune himself be with them that day; that be only way they could have survived the landing. Britain must be the chosen people; Bony may as well give up.”
“Chosen people?” Mackenzie, the carpenter laughed loudly. “The chaplain would be disagreeing with you.”
“He cannot disagree,” the gunner asserted. He chuckled as he readied his hand to play.“He be an Englishman also.”
Frederick smiled as he moved on. When they spoke of the invincibility of England, that was a good sign. He passed a small group of able seamen, one of whom good-naturedly teased a new landsmen.“You should have been with us in ’01 with Nelson,” the older sailor boasted. Wentworth peered down at them from his position along the railing.“We had twenty-six battleships and seven frigates in the line.The Danes stood no chance.The only thing they had was a sixty-six-gun battery and dangerous shoals, but none of it could stop Horatio Nelson.”
Keats, the mast captain, handed the landsman a cup of rum. “Parker panicked when we lost a floating battery and a few other key ships to the shoals, but Nelson had balls. Do you remember what he said, Woods, when old Malcolm told him Parker had ordered a withdrawal?”
Woods guffawed, nearly choking on the spirits they drank to steady their nerves. “You see, Lad, Nelson was blind in one eye. Nelson looked at old Malcolm and said, ‘I have only one eye. I do not see the signal.’”
“That was a bloody battle,” Keats proclaimed.
The landsman looked a bit afraid. It was, after all, his first confrontation. “How bloody?”
“Do not be worrying, Lad. Our captain is nothing like Nelson. The Vice Admiral did not care how many we lost, as long as we won the battle. Nearly one thousand left us that day. Of course, the Danes lost more than twice that many. We learned something in those days.Ye will not be exposed to such carnage.”
Frederick strode purposefully toward the men.They started to scramble to their feet, but he motioned for them to remain seated. “I just wanted to say I am proud to serve with you men. We will engage the Danish by early tomorrow morning. Right now, we are transporting the foot soldiers needed by General Wellesley. Relax as much as you can, but stay alert to changes happening along the Danish line of ships. You each know your job well. If each man attends to his own domain, we will come through this with few problems. Good night, men.”
“Good night, Captain,” a chorus of voices called as he walked away.“A good man,” he heard one of them mutter before he went below deck. Those who were experienced seamen knew how unusual it was for the commanding officer to address them thusly.
The smell of gunpowder filled the air; the British fleet continued to bombard the city of Copenhagen. “How much longer can they hold out?” Harville growled as he surveyed the damage with his spyglass.
“Only the Lord knows.” Wentworth took the glass from his friend and raised it to his eye. “We sent in at least five thousand rounds last night.” He walked to the other side of the upper deck to get a better look.“There are three battleships and one pram sitting dead in the water directly in front of us.”
“Our men are boarding them as we speak. Lieutenant Rushick is leading our contingent.” Harville squinted down at the lowering of the small boats off the side of the ship.
The appearance of the British transports, making their way toward Copenhagen, obviously, came as a nasty shock to the Danish command. Early o
n, the Danish had taken a frigate and two brig-sloops. Unlike the weather during the 1801 siege of the city, the high surf and the seas calmed right before the attack. “The latest message from Gambier says Danish General Peymann turned down our offers of capitulation.” Harville handed Frederick a message delivered by the communications officer.
“Then we will fight on,”Wentworth offered with a shrug of his shoulders, attempting to force tension from his upper back.“There is something rotten in Denmark. At least, the Bard would agree with the Prince Regent.” A slight smile turned up the corners of his lips.“At this rate,Thomas, you may marry Milly by year’s end.”
The night brought no relief from the battle. Frederick made only one trip below in the hours since the battle began. He constantly checked on the conditions above and below deck, assuring himself that his men and his ship had come to no harm.“Get some rest, Frederick,” Harville said when he came to check on him. His voice came softly off Frederick’s right shoulder. “The men will be fine; they know their jobs.”
“Just a few minutes more,” Frederick mumbled, searching the horizon for any changes in the siege. The constant bombardment lit up the skyline with explosions; puffy clouds of black smoke followed these as fires sprang up. “The Congreve Rockets appear to be doing their job. Look at the number of fires; the city will never be the same.” He stood, riveted to a spot along the railing, not even turning to acknowledge Harville’s presence.
“You feel the pain of each battle too intensely, Frederick,” his friend concluded with a shake of his head.
“There ought to be a better way of resolving differences. I know I should not want to bite the hand that feeds me, but such destruction—such destruction should not occur. Sometimes I wonder how a God of love can allow it to happen, allow men to make war.” Frederick lowered the glass from his eyes.
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