Killigrew’s Run

by Jonathan Lunn

  ‘It won’t happen again, sir.’

  ‘Know that for a fact, do you?’

  ‘Sir, the navy’s my life. If you send me home now, it’ll be the end of my career: even if I do make a full recovery, I’ll always be remembered as the man who was sent home from the Baltic. The man who was broken by the Arctic. I’ll never find another captain who’ll take me on.’

  ‘Don’t think I want to do this, Killigrew. Damn it, I can scarcely afford to lose an officer of your calibre, especially with Willoughby and Gidley down with the pox. But with this business with Lord Bullivant hanging over your head, perhaps it’s for the best. If I ask one of the other captains to lend me a senior lieutenant until a replacement for you can be sent out from England—’

  Outside the day-room, the marine crashed his musket against the deck. ‘Mr Saunders to see you, sah!’

  ‘Send him in,’ sighed Crichton.

  The door opened and Midshipman Saunders was ushered inside. ‘Sorry for the intrusion, sir, but we’ve just received a signal from the Bulldog: you and Mr Killigrew are to go on board at once.’

  Crichton and Killigrew exchanged glances. ‘Well, Mr Killigrew! It seems the decision is about to be taken out of my hands.’

  * * *

  Once on board HMS Bulldog, Crichton and Killigrew were ushered down to the captain’s day-room, where they were surprised to find Napier in ebullient mood.

  ‘Ah, come in, gentlemen, come in. A fine week’s work, aye? Bomarsund taken; and with hardly a loss on our side! That should silence ma critics in Westminster. And now we’ve shown that granite batteries are no’ invulnerable to bombardment, we can think about launching attacks on Sveaborg and Kronstadt. No’ this year, o’ course – too late in the season for it, now – but next year… if I get ma gunboats and mortar-vessels.’ The older Napier got, the stronger his Scots accent seemed to become. ‘Can I offer you both a drink?’

  Killigrew and Crichton exchanged glances. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  The Bulldog’s steward poured them each a tumbler of scotch, and they drank to the downfall of the Russians.

  Vice Admiral Sir Charles Napier, KCB, GCTS, KMT, KSG, KRE, was known as ‘Black Charlie’ to his friends and family on account of his unusually swarthy complexion and his once-black hair; affectionately as ‘Old Charlie’ to the seamen who served under his command; as ‘Mad Charlie’ by his political enemies in London, who viewed him as a dangerous maverick; and as ‘Dirty Charlie’ by some of his subordinates, because of his slovenly approach to his dress. Earlier in the campaign Killigrew had seen the commander-in-chief wearing a bright red suit with large yellow buttons and facings, which he had won in a bet, and presumably worn for another. Today he wore a rumpled admiral’s tailcoat over his portly stomach, with a rainbow-coloured handkerchief spilling from a pocket and a dusting of snuff on the lapels.

  ‘Am I to take it, then, sir, that I am not under arrest?’ asked Killigrew.

  Napier blinked at him. ‘Arrest? Bless ma soul, nay! Whatever gave you such a peculiar notion?’

  ‘But last week, when Lieutenant Tremaine came on board the Ramillies, he told me he’d been ordered to put Killigrew under arrest,’ said Crichton. ‘That he was going to be court-martialled for conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.’

  Napier grimaced. ‘Seymour being a little too efficient as usual.’

  Killigrew smiled. ‘Efficient? Or officious?’

  ‘Now, now, Killigrew. That’ll do.’ But Napier said it with a smile. ‘Unlike Seymour, I dinna take ma orders from passing war tourists, even if they are close personal friends of the prime minister. I’ve spoken to Seymour about it, and he’s agreed to withdraw the charge.’

  ‘But what about Lord Bullivant, sir? Won’t he write a letter of complaint to Lord Aberdeen?’

  Napier chuckled. ‘I dinna think Lord Bullivant will be writing any letters of complaint to the prime minister in the near future, gentlemen. It seems his lordship has gone and got himself captured by the Russians.’

  ‘Captured!’ exclaimed Crichton.

  Napier nodded, grinning. ‘Seems the damned ass took his yacht too close to the Finnish coast a few days ago and was overhauled by a stray Russian paddle-sloop. I only learned all this a couple of hours ago from a dispatch from Plumridge: one o’ his steamers stopped a Finnish fishing boat out of Eckness and the master told him all about it.’

  Like most officers in the British fleet, Napier had immense trouble pronouncing local place names correctly: Ekenäs became ‘Eckness’, Älvsnabben became ‘Elgsnabben’, Nottvik became ‘Nottich’ and Bränklint became ‘Tzee’ (Killigrew was still trying to work out that last mispronunciation).

  ‘But… surely they can’t hold him?’ protested Crichton. ‘I mean, he’s a civilian, damn it.’

  ‘They can and they will,’ Napier said grimly. ‘A British citizen captured in Russian territorial waters in time of war… oh, they’ll hold on to him, right enough. I’ve always said this was nae place for war tourists, and Bullivant’s proved it!’

  ‘You don’t think they’ll execute him for spying, do you, sir?’ said Killigrew.

  ‘Och, I doubt it. I mean, he’s a peer of the realm… they canna seriously believe he was engaged in espionage. However, they’ll no’ let him go without getting something in return. We’ll have to negotiate for his release. Or rather, you’ll have to negotiate, Mr Killigrew.’

  ‘Me, sir?’

  Napier nodded. ‘You’ll take a boat into Eckness under a flag of truce and parley with the local authorities there. Offer them a fair exchange: Lord Bullivant for Major-General Bodisco. I dare say Sir James Graham will give me merry hell for surrendering the commanding officer of Bomarsund so soon after we captured him, and in exchange for a useless civilian at that. But better that than having the PM give me merry hell for allowing one of his cronies to languish in durance vile a moment longer than is necessary.’

  ‘With all due respect, sir, Commander Killigrew is in no condition to undertake a job as important as this,’ said Crichton. ‘I was just about to dismiss him from the Ramillies on grounds of ill health when we got your signal.’

  ‘Ill-health?’ Frowning, Napier peered at Killigrew. ‘He looks well enough to me.’

  ‘He’s still not fully recovered from his Arctic ordeal, sir. He fainted ashore only this morning.’

  ‘Is it true, Killigrew?’

  ‘Just a dizzy spell, sir. I’ve never felt in better trim.’

  ‘Capital! Well, ill or no’, it canna be helped.’

  ‘Are you sure you want Killigrew to do this, sir?’ asked Crichton. ‘I mean, I don’t imagine he’s Lord Bullivant’s favourite naval officer at the moment—’

  ‘Which is precisely why I chose him. Oh, I’m no’ naive enough to imagine Lord Bullivant will forgive him for that little altercation on board the Milenion the other evening simply because he effects his release from the Russians. But it will make it damned hard for him to press for Killigrew’s dismissal if he owes him a debt of gratitude.’

  Killigrew replaced his scotch on the sideboard, untasted. ‘I’d rather not, if it’s all the same with you, sir.’

  Napier stared at him. ‘Whut d’ye mean, you’d rather not? Do ye no’ see I’m trying to do you a favour?’

  ‘Yes, sir, and believe me, I appreciate it. But there’s more to what happened on board the Milenion than meets the eye. You see, the Bullivants and I… well, we’ve met before. If it had simply been a matter of a misunderstanding and a broken door to be repaired, I’m sure his lordship would have settled for damages and an apology. The only reason he’s pursuing this matter so vindictively is that I’ve crossed his bows in the past.’

  Napier rolled his eyes. ‘Is there anyone whose bows you’ve no’ crossed yet, Mr Killigrew? But surely that’s all the more reason for you to at least try to get back into his good graces?’

  ‘I’m not sure I was ever in his good graces to begin with, sir. Believe me, I think it would simply be too awk
ward – for the Bullivants as well as myself – if I were the one sent to arrange their release.’

  ‘Is there something you’re no’ telling me, Killigrew?’

  The commander grimaced. ‘Miss Araminta Maltravers and I were once engaged to be married.’

  Crichton’s jaw dropped. ‘You were engaged to Lord Bullivant’s daughter?’

  ‘Bless ma soul!’ exclaimed Napier. ‘You kept that fair quiet, didn’t you? When was this?’

  ‘Two and a half years ago, back when I was a lieutenant, sir. His lordship didn’t want the engagement announced in all the usual places.’ Killigrew grinned ruefully. ‘Come to think of it, he didn’t want the marriage to take place at all.’ .

  ‘I’m no’ surprised!’ said Napier. ‘Nae disrespect intended, Killigrew, but the thought of Miss Maltravers being married to an impecunious naval lieutenant… and one wi’ your radical sympathies… I wonder his lordship allowed it at all!’

  ‘He did try to buy me off, sir. And when that didn’t work, he sent a couple of pugs around to my rooms in Paddington to work me over.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They weren’t exactly first-rate pugs, sir. And well past their prime.’ Killigrew could still feel their fists pummelling his stomach. ‘I think I can say I gave as good as I got.’

  ‘Good for you. Still, I canna help but think you might’ve been wiser to take the money.’

  ‘It was an insultingly small offer, sir.’

  ‘I know you, Killigrew. He could have offered you a small fortune, and you’d’ve told him to go to the devil. So, whut brought Miss Maltravers to her senses?’

  ‘Nothing, sir. It was I who broke off the engagement.’

  ‘You broke off the engagement?’ Napier spluttered incredulously.

  ‘You’re lucky you weren’t sued for breach of promise!’ remarked Crichton.

  ‘What would have been the point, sir?’ Killigrew pointed out. ‘Lord Bullivant would have spent more on lawyers’ fees than he could have hoped to win in damages from a lieutenant on half-pay.’

  ‘Let me make sure I understand this aright, Mr Killigrew,’ said Napier. ‘You were engaged to the daughter of one of the wealthiest and most influential peers in Britain… and a damned bonny lass to boot. You refused her father’s attempt to buy you off, resisted his attempts to frighten you… and then broke off the engagement anyhow?’

  ‘I could see there was no future in it. Lord Bullivant would have cut Miss Maltravers off without a penny. She said she was willing to live on my income, but… well, I just knew she wouldn’t be able to live like that, not after her upbringing.’ That was true enough, but it was only part of the story.

  Napier sighed. ‘’Pon ma word, Killigrew! Sometimes I wonder if you’re the noblest man I ever met, or simply the biggest fool.’

  ‘Probably the latter, sir. But you must see now: …it would be hopelessly awkward if I were to be the one sent to negotiate their release.’

  ‘Well, awkward or no’, I’m no’ asking for volunteers: I’m ordering you to do this; …for your own good, even if you’re too much of a bletherhead to see that for yourself. This is too important to be left to a lieutenant – the Russkis respect a bit of gold braid – and you’re the only officer I can spare who speaks Swedish. You have some Russian too, I think?’

  Killigrew could see he was not going to get out of this. ‘Just a little, sir.’

  ‘Perfect! Any questions?’

  ‘Just one, sir. What if the Russians aren’t willing to exchange Bullivant for Bodisco? You’ll admit, they can be a little… unpredictable.’

  ‘In that event, I expect you to act upon your discretion. Weigh up the situation and act accordingly. But whatever else happens, make sure you get Lord Bullivant and his family back to safety. Do I make maself clear?’

  Killigrew saluted. ‘As crystal, sir.’

  They took their leave of Napier and were rowed back to the Ramillies in Crichton’s gig. By the time they returned on board, Killigrew had resigned himself to the task the commander-in-chief had set him, and thought about what lay ahead. ‘If I’m to go to Ekenäs, sir, I’ll need to consult someone who’s already been that way lately. The passage is intricate, from what I hear.’

  ‘Good thinking, Killigrew. You have someone in mind?’

  ‘I was thinking of the Hecla’s master.’ Three months earlier, the Hecla had accompanied the screw frigates Arrogant and Dauntless when they had steamed up the Ekenäs inlet to cut a merchant barque out of the harbour as a prize of war.

  ‘All right, take my gig and ask Captain Hall if you can have a word with his master. Take Mr Dahlstedt: he can go with you when you sail up the inlet.’

  In his late twenties, Dahlstedt was the Ramillies’ pilot, a half-pay lieutenant in the Swedish navy currently attached – in a strictly unofficial capacity – to the Royal Navy. Sweden had ceded the Grand Duchy of Finland to Russia some seventeen years before he had been born there, but he nonetheless felt more loyalty to Sweden than he did to Russia, and had emigrated shortly after the death of his parents. His father had been a master in the Finnish merchant marine, and Dahlstedt had learned how to sail almost as soon as he could walk, so he had been welcomed into the Swedish navy.

  ‘It will save time if I take the Ramillies back through the Ångösund while you’re on board the Hecla,’ Crichton continued. ‘We’ll wait for you back at Ledsund. If we sail tonight, we can be off Eckness by dawn.’

  When Killigrew told Dahlstedt what they had to do, the lieutenant seemed delighted to be able to offer his services, and cheerfully accompanied Killigrew to the Hecla, where Captain Hall was more than happy for them to pick his master’s brains. The master having told them all he knew about the perils – navigational and military – of sailing up the Ekenäs inlet, Killigrew and Dahlstedt cadged a ride on a dispatch boat that took them back down the Ångösund to where the Ramillies rode at anchor not too far from the Duke of Wellington and the other capital ships of the British fleet. As dusk approached, the blockship weighed anchor and steamed out of the Åland Islands for Ekenäs.

  * * *

  HMS Ramillies flew a large white flag from her mainmast when she dropped anchor off the south coast of Finland the following morning, so there could be no mistaking her peaceful intent. Although she was really too large for the task in hand, Napier felt he could spare her from his fleet for the three or four days it would take to make the exchange. Besides, since General Bodisco was a guest on board, and soon to be replaced by Lord Bullivant and his family, it seemed only fitting that they should travel in style on board a ship of the line.

  The Ramillies anchored a couple of miles out from the coast, which was screened by a labyrinthine mass of islands and skerries. Even with Dahlstedt on board to guide them, the water was too shallow to risk the ship any closer in. Since Ekenäs lay about five miles up a narrow inlet from the coast, the cutter’s crew was in for a long pull. But as usual finding volunteers had not been difficult, even after it had pointed out that they would not be taking firearms, despite the fact they could not be sure what kind of a reception the Russians would give them, white flag or no.

  As soon as the Ramillies anchored off the Ekenäs archipelago, Killigrew assembled the men he had chosen to go ashore with him on deck. In addition to Dahlstedt and the cutter’s crew of eleven, Killigrew took Mr Charlton, and Mate Latham as an aide. Theoretically the twenty-five-foot cutter would carry forty people in calm weather, so if all went well there would be enough room in the boat to carry not only Lord Bullivant and his family but also the crew of the Milenion: no more than fifteen, Killigrew calculated. It would be cramped and doubtless his lordship would complain, but that could not be helped. As for Lord Bullivant’s yacht, that would be staying behind in Ekenäs with the Russians: whatever the outcome of the negotiations, no one could deny the schooner was a legitimate prize of war.

  ‘I’ll keep General Bodisco on board until we’ve reached an agreement with the Russians,’ Crichton told Killig
rew as the cutter was lowered from its davits. ‘I expect you’ll have to make at least two trips, so I’ll have a relief crew standing by when you get back.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Killigrew wore his full-dress uniform: double-breasted navy-blue epauletted tailcoat, trousers, white kid gloves and cocked hat. He wore his dress sword at his side, for show rather than as a weapon – although he kept the blade honed to a razor’s edge – but left his brace of revolvers in his cabin. Latham wore his dirk – more of a short sword than a knife – again for show, but otherwise they would all be unarmed, although Killigrew did not doubt that Molineaux had his Bowie knife hidden in its sheath in the small of his back. And the other seamen would have their fi’penny clasp knives; much good those would do them if there was any shooting.

  ‘Given it’s a long haul to Eckness, I’ll wait here until six this evening. Are you quite certain you’re up to this?’

  ‘I’m fine, sir. Please stop worrying: it’ll be a stroll in the park.’

  ‘Just try to be careful.’

  The cutter’s crew shinned down the lifelines to the boat, followed by Killigrew and Latham, who took their places in the stern sheets as the cutter was manoeuvred to a point below the accommodation ladder, so that Charlton and Dahlstedt could climb down and join them. Endicott and Hughes fixed the cutter’s mast in the mast step and ran a white flag up a halyard so that it fluttered above their heads in the sou’westerly breeze.

  ‘Shove off!’ ordered Killigrew. Molineaux cast off the heaving line and pushed the cutter’s bows away from the Ramillies’ side with the boat-hook. ‘Out oars. Give way together.’

  Taking their stroke from Able Seaman Powell at the starboard after-oar, the rowers pulled at their oars, powering the cutter away from the Ramillies. Once they were no longer shielded from the wind by the blockship’s hull, Killigrew ordered the sails set, and the oarsmen were able to rest as the canvas bellied in the breeze off the port quarter. It was not an unpleasant way to spend a morning: the sun was shining, the Baltic surprisingly temperate in August. He watched the Ramillies grow smaller and smaller behind them. Ahead, the mass of islands presented one long, unbroken façade of rocky shores and pine forests, but he knew from the chart that there were plenty of channels leading through to the Ekenäs Inlet.