by Lynn Bryant
The Kattegat was a somewhat shallow sea. Paul had not sailed it before, but he had been talking to the ship’s officers and gathered that it could be dangerous to navigate, with reefs of sand and stone and a variety of shifting currents. Given that troops, warships and leaders were converging on Denmark from several different locations, it had made more sense for Admiral Gambier to collect his fleet together here, close to Vinga on the Swedish coast before sailing through the narrow gap to the Sound and the intended landing point for the troops at Elsinore, thirty miles up the coast from Copenhagen.
Sir Arthur Wellesley, who was keen to get away from his Parliamentary and administrative duties and back into the field where he felt he belonged, was not in command of the army, an honour which had gone to Lord Cathcart, currently on his way from Pomerania with more than eight thousand men of the King’s German Legion. The situation in Pomerania was under severe threat from the French and Cathcart had already written to London pointing out that he would be unable to hold Stralsund for more than a short time and that he was concerned for the safety of his men. Paul imagined he must have been delighted to be told that he should re-embark and sail to Denmark.
Paul stood watching the shore and listening to a series of orders being shouted on the deck behind him. He was aware that Johnny probably had no idea what half of them meant. Paul understood them very well.
Paul always experienced a strange sense of dislocation when aboard a Royal Navy ship. His earliest voyages with the army, to and from India had been in merchant ships, commissioned by the Transport Board to move troops over long distances, but recent postings in Europe and Ireland had placed him back on board a navy ship in very different circumstances to his boyhood experiences.
He had been fourteen when he went to sea for the first time, recently expelled from Eton, still grieving the death of his mother and sister from smallpox and at odds with his father. He supposed that Franz van Daan had meant well when he apprenticed his difficult son to one of his merchantmen in the hope that the voyage would teach him discipline and self-control although thinking of his own small son, whom he adored, Paul could not imagine why any father would make that choice.
It had ended in the horror of a shipwreck off the West Indies and the further nightmare when the remains of the crew who had made it to the shore of Antigua in one of the boats, were picked up by a navy press gang and deposited aboard the warship HMS Triumph and then later aboard the second rater HMS Hera where Paul had completed more than two years of service as a pressed man, an able seaman and then as a petty officer before his father learned that he was still alive and obtained his release.
It had given Paul an ambiguous relationship with the navy. He was very aware that the discipline and leadership skills he had learned in those difficult two and a half years had changed the course of his life. He was also aware that the brutality he had experienced during his early days at sea had left more than a set of scars on his back. There was a gulf of experience between him and the other officers of the army and no matter how much he liked some of them, they could never know what he knew, about living side by side, in appalling conditions, with men from the bottom end of society. It had changed his outlook forever and although his friends accepted his eccentricity with surprising tolerance he knew that the rest of the army looked askance at his strong views on flogging and discipline and his relaxed manner with some of the enlisted men.
In particular he had a close friendship with Sergeant Michael O’Reilly of the light company. Johnny had been cautious and somewhat concerned during Paul’s early days with the regiment, warning him that his habit of socialising with the men could lay him open to a conduct charge should it be reported. Paul had listened because he respected Johnny, but refused to alter his behaviour to any great degree. He was circumspect about where and when he joined his light company for an evening, but he was reasonably confident that nobody from the 110th was likely to report him and although he knew that some of the other officers disapproved of his relaxed manner, while his men remained well disciplined and well trained, he suspected that most senior officers were happy to turn a blind eye.
“Major van Daan.”
Paul turned to see Lieutenant Freeman who commanded the Horace approaching. He saluted and the other man, who was several years older than Paul, returned the salute with a grin. Rank and precedence between the army and the navy was often a delicate matter which was not always as clear cut as it might have seemed. In principle a navy captain was the equivalent to a full colonel in the army, a navy lieutenant to an army captain and a midshipman equivalent to an ensign which would make Paul senior to Freeman, but often in the navy an experienced lieutenant would be given command of a smaller ship which moved them up the ranks. Paul had no idea how sensitive Freeman was but since he had no sensitivity at all and was only interested in rank when it affected a matter of discipline he had treated the man from the start of the voyage as an equal and it had made for a pleasant trip with an easy relationship.
“What news, Lieutenant?”
“Just received orders, Major. We’re moving on to Elsinore, about a hundred and sixty miles south of here.”
“Any idea about the diplomatic side?” Paul asked and Freeman grinned.
“I am a humble lieutenant, Major. They don’t tell you and me that kind of information.”
“Very true,” Paul said. “What’s the sailing going to be like?”
“Bit lively in places. Do you get sick, I’ve seen no sign?”
“No, but a fair few of my lads do, I’ll go below and warn them. At least they’ll know it’s coming.”
Freeman nodded. “My bosun said you were down there with them the first night,” he said abruptly.
“Not much you can do for men heaving their guts up, Lieutenant, but they like to know I’m there. Grogan worries me, he’s worse than anybody I’ve ever seen. Apart from my poor wife, whom I am never taking too far, I think it would kill her. Thank you for letting me know.”
He moved away and heard Freeman say to Johnny:
“Is it normal in the army to nursemaid your men like he does?”
Johnny, who knew how acute Paul’s hearing was, laughed. “No,” he said. “The major is a bit different. But once you’ve seen what he can get them to do on a battlefield, you don’t worry about it so much. Excuse me, Lieutenant, I’m going to let the other officers know we’re on our way.”
***
Ponderously, now that they were so close at hand, the ships of Admiral Gambier’s fleet and the transports carrying some of Lord Cathcart’s army made their way through the Kattegat to Elsinore at the northern entry to the Sound. The first detachment of the fleet consisted of sixteen ships of the line, including the Iris, seven frigates and sixteen sloops and gun-brigs.
During the afternoon, the Admiral had ordered Commodore Keats to detach with a squadron of four ships of the line, three frigates and ten smaller vessels with instructions to sail round to the Great Belt, the sea on the western side of Zealand. Keats was instructed to work his way through, detaching the various frigates and sloops on the way, stationing them to intercept all vessels attempting to cross from the western side of the Belt. Fishing and trade ships were to be allowed to continue, any troop carriers would be turned back. As yet Britain and Denmark were not at war and until news finally arrived of the outcome of negotiations over the fleet, Gambier wished to proceed with caution.
With his ships of the line, Keats was instructed to guard the southern end of the Belt and the entrance to the Baltic. It was not an easy task. The Danes had always tried to keep navigational information about the Great Belt as secret as possible in order to push shipping through the Sound on the other side where dues must be paid. In practical terms this meant that charts were unreliable and the squadron would need to proceed slowly and carefully to avoid running into banks or shoals.
Hugh was impressed by Gambier’s tactics which showed a sound grasp of joint operations. If Keats was successful in closin
g down the Great Belt it would prevent any reinforcements from being sent to Zealand. The greater part of the Danish army was not on Zealand but in the province of Holstein and if they could be prevented from joining the six thousand or so regular and irregular troops in Copenhagen it would make the army’s job a lot easier.
Hugh information had come from a surprise visit from Captain Sir Home Riggs Popham who had arrived at the Iris in a small boat earlier in the day. Hugh had welcomed the Captain of the Fleet with considerable civility and very little ceremony, a fact which he knew would annoy Popham. Installing his guest in his dining cabin he had sent Brian for refreshments and to summon Lieutenant Durrell to join the meeting.
“This is very nice,” Popham said, seating himself at Hugh’s big dining table and looking around. “Newly fitted, isn’t she?”
Hugh nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ve been at Yarmouth overseeing. You probably know she was taken from the French…”
“Took her yourself, didn’t you? Some skirmish after Trafalgar?”
“Yes, sir. You’ll have heard about the chaos of the prizes taken in battle - we lost most of them in the storm that followed, some were wrecked and others were retaken by French or Spanish prisoners off our prize crews. I was commanding the frigate Newstead. Stumbled across this beauty making her way towards Cadiz. She was damaged and poorly crewed, or I’d never have caught her, but I was lucky. Luckier still to get command of her. Ah there you are, Mr Durrell. Port or Madeira, sir?”
Hugh introduced Durrell and poured drinks himself, unwilling to expose the Captain of the Fleet to Brian’s clumsiness. Popham was speaking to the lieutenant, firing questions at him as though he were interviewing him for a position, asking him about his service and training then moving on to his family in a way that Hugh found slightly offensive. As Popham’s questions grew shorter and sharper, Durrell’s answers grew longer and more loquacious. For once Hugh did not object; he had no particular place to be and since he considered that Popham had got himself into this mess by asking questions which were none of his business, he was happy to allow his talkative lieutenant his head for once and sat back, sipping a very fine madeira to enjoy the show.
On the whole, he felt that his first lieutenant was winning the encounter. The boy had a genius for sounding polite and respectful while delivering a lecture which was impressive in its length and depth and insulting in its detail. Hugh wondered if he had any idea how much it made his seniors want to punch him.
He had met Popham before and was still very unsure what he thought of him, a response he suspected was very common with the captain. In his mid-forties, Hugh had been told that he had come up through the ranks in a very similar way to Hugh although with rather better connections and he had an excellent reputation as a skilled surveyor and map-maker, an expert in naval communications and a talented scientist.
He had another reputation, which Hugh had heard many times in ward rooms and quayside taverns around the world, as a man who could not entirely be trusted. Hugh did not know all the details or if he did he had forgotten them, but he was aware that accusations and whispers of dishonesty and peculation had followed Popham more closely than stories of his undoubted talent. There had been a scandal while he was engaged in private trading while on half pay in the East; the story went that he had contravened the monopoly of the East India Company and had also engaged in smuggling although nothing was proved. He was struck off the lieutenants’ list for failing to renew his leave, reinstated and had done well during the Flanders campaign.
Hugh wondered now, listening to Popham floundering and then going under in a sea of verbosity from Lieutenant Durrell, if some of the resentment at Popham’s success stemmed from the fact that his promotion to post-captain after Flanders had come from the army rather than the navy. He had apparently done excellent work organising transport, forming a corps of sea-fencibles in the defence of Nieuport and managing the evacuation of the allied forces and it was the Duke of York who had recommended him for promotion. There was jealousy between the army and the navy and having the reputation as an expert in joint operations was unlikely to endear Popham to his fellow officers.
The conversation had moved on, somehow, to telegraphy and flag signals. Hugh, who had been woolgathering, had no idea how it had got there and he fervently wished it had not. He was personally an admirer of the system Popham had designed and which had been used at Trafalgar, but he was only interested in the end result and had no desire to explore how it got there. What he did know, was that Popham had accidentally found a fellow enthusiast and the somewhat abrupt interrogation by the Captain of the Fleet had launched into a joyous meeting of minds. Hugh, who had threatened to shoot Lieutenant Durrell on one occasion if he did not stop talking about telegraphy and semaphore stifled a groan and got up for more wine.
“Captain, while you are up, will you find me pencil and paper?” Popham said absently. “I would like to show Lieutenant Durrell…”
“Gladly, sir,” Hugh said, pouring more wine into his glass. “Only - sir, do you need me for anything? Because if you don’t…”
Popham looked startled. “Oh. Yes, of course. I have orders from Admiral Gambier, sir.”
Hugh looked at him owlishly. “You’re delivering orders, sir?”
Popham smirked. “There is some delicacy about the current matter, Captain, as I am sure you know. The Admiral wished me to assure myself that you understand the delicacy.”
Hugh sighed and returned to his seat. “Yes, sir. Does Mr Durrell need to understand the delicacy as well?”
“Ah…no, no need. I am sure you will tell him everything he needs to know if he has duties elsewhere.”
“He really does,” Hugh said, and Durrell got up and saluted smartly. Hugh responded, thinking about what unpleasant task he could find for Durrell in revenge for the tedium of the past hour and watched him leave.
“An excellent young man. Has he been with you long?”
“No, sir. I lost my previous first lieutenant to promotion and Mr Durrell came highly recommended.”
“I am not surprised. A trifle gauche, but I am sure he will improve. But very knowledgable, very intelligent.”
“As you say, sir. The orders?”
“Of course. I am visiting many of the captains, going from ship to ship, making sure they understand…”
“The delicacy?”
“Quite, Captain.”
Hugh wondered how long it would take Popham to get round the entire fleet if he took so long to get to the point on each one. Popham suddenly leaned forward.
“We are moving on tomorrow. Most of the army transports will be here from England by then although Lord Cathcart has not arrived yet with his Germans from Pomerania. A few days, no more.”
“That’s good, sir. Who commands the army in the meantime?”
“Sir Harry Burrard will take command of the first division and will be in temporary command. And we are shortly to be joined by Sir Arthur Wellesley who has been given command of the reserves. Mostly light troops, some artillery.” Popham studied Hugh. “Are you aware of why we’re here, Captain?”
“Yes,” Hugh said. “We are about to coax, woo or ultimately threaten Denmark, which is a neutral country, into handing over their fleet to us so that when Bonaparte marches in and takes over he can’t use it for a new naval offensive against us. And after Trafalgar, I think it’s an extremely good idea.”
Popham smirked. “No qualms of conscience, Captain? A lot of men have, in both the army and the navy.”
“It’s not my job to have a conscience about it, sir, it’s my job to obey orders. But for what it’s worth, no. I’m a bit of a pragmatist. They can’t stay neutral. If they try, he’ll invade them and that fleet is worth having. And he isn’t going to give a damn.”
“You were at Trafalgar, weren’t you?”
“I was, sir. In command of the Newstead. Lost ten of my crew and a few badly wounded.”
“Wounded yourself?”
“Yes, s
ir.” Hugh kept it brief. He did not like to talk about the eighteen hours of furious activity following the battle with his left shoulder strapped up around a musket ball. It had been a crazy thing to do and he might have lost his arm but he had not and it had gained him this ship.
“I wasn’t there. Still at the Cape. And then South America, of course. But you know that.”
Hugh nodded without speaking. It had only been a few months since Popham had faced a court martial in London after an unlikely and wholly unauthorised attempt to invade South America. The fact that he had escaped with nothing worse than a reprimand was probably due to either influence in government circles or astonishing good luck. Hugh sensed an underlying core of resentment and suspicion in Popham who probably felt that his service and his undoubted talents were not appreciated. Without Popham’s influential friends, Hugh was entirely accustomed to not being appreciated, but he had learned to keep his head down, seize his chances and not complain about the times it went wrong. It was not advice he intended to give to a senior officer, however.
“Still, here I am. Admiral Gambier wanted a man who has experience in joint operations. But I am glad to hear your view on this, Captain, because the Admiral has asked me to sound out one or two captains he can rely on if he needs to pre-empt the diplomats. Francis Jackson is the diplomat conducting the negotiations and he is on his way now. But in the meantime…”
Hugh, grimly amused, finally understood. “In the meantime, sir, the Admiral has sent you to find out which captains he could possibly rely on not to allow their distaste for attacking a neutral country to get in the way of blowing up a Danish ship ahead of actual war.”
Popham’s smirk widened a little into something resembling a smile. “Captain Kelly, I see that you are a man I can work with.”
“I’ll obey any order I’m given, sir. But I’d like that particular one in writing first.”