Alexander Kent - THE INSHORE SQUADRON
The last week had been busy but less tense. Once committed to a plan of battle, no matter how hazy it must appear to an ordinary seaman or marine, the people went to work with a will. Shifting stores, powder and shot to retrim the hulls which had for the most part been living too long off their own fat.
During daylight hours the masthead lookouts reported sighting more ships of Hyde Parker's fleet as it gathered together for the first perilous thrust through the Sound Channel.
There was a tap at the door and Bolitho heard feet moving beyond it, like players waiting to emerge on stage.
Browne peered in and said, 'All present, sir.' As an afterthought he added, 'Wind's as before, sir, and Mr Grubb says there's little chance of a change.'
'Let them enter.' Bolitho walked to the door to greet and shake hands with each of his young captains.
Veitch of the Lookout and Keverne of the Indomitable. The latter had changed not at all in spite of his authority. He still had the gipsy good looks which Bolitho remembered when he had been first lieutenant in his own Euryalus. Inch and, of course, Neale of the Styx, followed closely by Captain Peel of the Relentless.
The last one to enter with Herrick was Captain Valentine Keen of the Nicator. They had shared so much together before the war, in the East Indies and later in the Great South Sea where Bolitho had-all but died of fever.
Bolitho shook his hand warmly. `How is everything with you?'
Keen knew that Bolitho's question had a double edge. Nicator's previous captain had been a coward and a liar, and it was said he had died from a ball fired by one of his own company. Nicator had been an unhappy ship then, but under Keen's command had prospered with surprising swiftness.
'Aye, sir. I am ready.' He gave a smile. 'You can depend on it.'
Herrick clapped him on the shoulder. 'Enough said, young
Val! Let's get this meeting completed in time for a glass, eh?' Bolitho stood behind his table, his feet taking the gentle roll
and plunge of the deck.
`I have received the final instructions, gentlemen.' He saw them watching him, eager, anxious, some trying to hide their feelings completely.
'More intelligence has been received about the armed galleys which Captain Neale and I observed when we made our little venture into the Baltic.' He saw a few smiles. `The Danes have many more than first believed, and have been keeping them to the south of Copenhagen. They present an obvious threat to any slower vessels sailing in single-line. It has been agreed that Vice-Admiral Nelson will lead the main assault on the defences and moored men-of-war, and all else which the Danes have prepared for us.'
Even Hyde Parker must have been embarrassed by agreeing to his junior accepting the hardest part of the battle. Bolitho saw Neale nudge Inch with his elbow and guessed they were thinking along the same tack.
'It is now definite that the Danish batteries will open fire as soon as we attempt to enter the Baltic. The Swedish commander has made no comment, but we must assume they may follow that example. When I was in Copenhagen I heard talk of the Danes removing buoys and steering-marks from the channel.'
They were no longer smiling. Without definite knowledge of the channel it would mean a more cautious approach. Just two ships running aground could tam an orderly advance into a shambles long before they reached their objectives.
'So,' Bolitho paused and glanced down at the neatly written instructions, `this squadron will enter the channel under cover of darkness to bypass the harbour defences and attack the galleys before they can get amongst our main fleet.'
He had to speak carefully to conceal his dismay.
`Soundings will be taken by the boats of the squadron, each to be under the charge of an experienced lieutenant or warrant officer. Close contact will be maintained at all times, but with a minimum of signals. It seems certain that we will not complete the passage without detection, and some casualties and damage must be expected. For this and other reasons we will keep to the Swedish side of the channel and make it as hard as possible for the Danish gunners, understood?'
Most of them nodded, but Peel stood up abruptly to ask, 'If the main fleet is held by the Danish defences, sir,, what will become of us?'
Bolitho said, 'Ask me when it happens.'
He liked the appearance of Captain Rowley Peel. At twentysix he had earned a fine reputation as a frigate captain, although he looked more like a young farmer than a sea officer. It was hardly surprising, Bolitho thought, as Peel came from a long line of landowners and would be as much at home with his beasts and crops as on a quarterdeck.
Peel grinned. 'Aye, sir. With Nelson at one end and you at t' other, I think we shall live!'
Bolitho leaned on his hands and looked at each face in turn.
'Now to the order of battle. Relentless, being the larger of the frigates, will lead, with Lookout in dose support.'
He turned to Neale, seeing his crestfallen expression as he added, 'You will follow astern of the squadron to repeat signals from the fleet or pass information to it.'
You would think he had just ordered Neale's court martial rather than saving him from the first crushing broadsides.
For a moment all their faces seemed to fade and he felt alone in the cabin.
Relentless's part was vital and the choice left no alternative.
When Damerum had put his suggestions to Hyde Parker he must have found it hard to conceal his elation. He would have discovered about Pascoe's appointment to the frigate and would have known how precarious that position would soon become.
A few questions came and went, answered by either Herrick or Browne.
Ozzard appeared with a tray of goblets and each man was soon drinking the loyal toast.
Then Bolitho said quietly, 'Most of us have known each other for a long time. In war that is a fortunate thing. During the fight ahead, our knowledge of each other will be as important as gunnery and seamanship, and to me, most of all, it will be a great encouragement to know I am among friends.'
Herrick raised his goblet. 'To us!'
Then they began to take their leave, each probably devising the best way to explain what was expected to his own ship's company.
Herrick and Browne left the cabin to see the captains into their waiting boats, but Peel hung back, his face embarrassed. `What is it, Captain Peel?'
'Well, sir, it's not for me to say, of course. But it's fairly common knowledge through the squadron about your clash with Admiral Damerum. I can understand why this dangerous course must be followed, and for my part I am proud to be in the van when we attack. If Sir Hyde Parker needs all his gun-brigs and bomb vessels for the assault on Copenhagen harbour, then it is obvious that we must play our part and scatter the galleys.'
Bolitho nodded. 'That is a fair summing up, Captain Peel.'
Peel said stubbornly, 'But there is nothing to state that your nephew, must be in my ship when it happens, sir! After all that's gone before, it would be the least I could do to replace him,'
Bolitho faced him gravely. 'Thank you. That could not have been easy for you.'
Peel swallowed hard. 'He came aboard with me anyway, sir, to speak with the flag captain. I should like to consult your sailing master on some recent charts.' He raised an eyebrow. '$hall I send Mr Pascoe aft, sir?'
'Yes. And I am grateful for your concern.'
It seemed an age before Pascoe came to the cabin. He looked very pale, as if he was in fever.
Bolitho said, 'Sit down, Adam.'
Pascoe asked quietly, 'You are surely not removing me from Relentless, sir?'
'No. I understand you better than you realize. My one regret is that I have left it so late to say so much. That scum Roche cleared my head if nothing else.'
Pascoe said, 'I heard all about it. The risk you took. He might have killed you.'
'Or you, Adam, have you thought of that?'
Bolitho walked to the stern windows and stared out at the shifting grey line of the sea, rocking back and forth as if to tip the ships over the edge into oblivion.
'I will not hide my feelings from you, Adam. You mean a great deal to me, more than I can say. I had hoped you might one day take on my family name, as you so rightly deserve.'
He saw Pascoe's reflection in the glass as he moved to protest.
'No, hear me. You have had to bear the shame of your father's actions for too long.' He could feel his heart pounding in time with the ache in his wound. 'I'll prolong it no more, even at the risk of losing your friendship. Your father, my brother, killed a man in a senseless duel. That man was Admiral Damerum's brother, so you see the hate has never washed away.'
'I understand, sir.'
'You don't. You think of your father as a traitor who died in ignominy.' He swung round, ignoring the sudden pain as he added sharply, 'The master's mate, Mr Selby, who lost his life to save yours aboard the Hyperion. He was Hugh, your father!'
If he had struck Pascoe he could not have made him recoil more.
Before he could speak Bolitho continued remorselessly, I thought it could be buried, forgotten. Hugh did not even know of your existence, but when he did, I can assure you he was a proud man. I made him promise to keep the secret from you. To do otherwise would have cost him his life, and you something even more dear. As it happened, he died bravely, and for no better cause.'
He realized Pascoe was on his feet, his body swaying against the roll of the hull as if he had lost his self-control.
Pascoe said quietly, `I must think about this.' He stared round the cabin desperately like a trapped animal. 'I – I don't know what to say! Mr Selby? I grew to like him very much. If I'd only known…'
`Yes.'
Bolitho watched his confusion and despair and felt his hope draining away like sand from a glass.
He looked up at the skylight as feet pounded overhead. The squadron was preparing to move towards the final rendezvous before the Sound Channel.
Pascoe said suddenly, `I had better return to my ship, sir. I came to see Captain Herrick about the man Babbage and Midshipman Penels.' He looked at the deck. 'And, of course, to visit you.'
`Thank you for that, Adam.'
Pascoe still hesitated, his fingers resting on the door.
`Will you tell me more of my father one day? Now that I know the truth?'
Bolitho strode across the cabin and gripped his shoulders tightly.
'Of course I will, did you doubt it?'
Pascoe stood very still now, his eyes fixed on Bolitho's as he replied, `And you, Uncle did you doubt my feelings? After all you have done for me, the happiness and pride we have shared, do you imagine I could feel anything but love for you?'
They stood back from each other, neither able to speak further.
Then Bolitho said, Take care, Adam. I'll be thinking of you.' Pascoe tossed some hair back from his forehead and jammed his hat on his head.
`And I'll be looking for your flag, Uncle.'
Then he turned blindly and almost blundered into Allday who was waiting outside the door.
Allday said bluntly, `He knows then, sir?' `Aye, he does.'
Allday padded past him to look for a dean goblet.
Then he said, `Bursting with it, he was, fair bursting!' He nodded with grim approval. 'Just as well, seeing it was you what looked after him. Otherwise, luff or not, I'd have put the young devil across my knee!'
Bolitho sipped the drink without even noticing what it was. In two days or so they would be fighting for their lives.
But the ghost was driven out, once and for all.
16. ‘All Gone’
Lieutenant the Honourable Oliver Browne lowered his telescope and said, 'Signal repeated from Elephant, sir. The Inshore Squadron will anchor when ready.'
Bolitho, too, had a glass to his eye, but he was studying the long, overlapping folds of the land. It never seemed to get any nearer, but held a strange menace, as if the whole shore-line was waiting for their first move into the channel.
The burden on individual captains was severe in these enclosed waters, but with a commander like Nelson some of the strain was removed. There would be no unnecessary signals, no wasted time, and Bolitho guessed that the Hero of the Nile must have worked on Hyde Parker to get him to a point of attack so quickly.
All day, as the squadrons and distant patrols had headed south through the Kattegat, Bolitho had felt the finality of it. With the coasts of Sweden and Denmark on either beam, even when invisible, it was like leading his ships into a poacher's bag.
Even now, with brigs and ships' boats under sail darting through the ponderous lines of two-deckers, there would be unseen eyes watching their movements. Nelson had signalled the whole fleet to anchor, even though he knew Bolitho's squadron would get under way again as soon as it was dark. He rarely forgot anything. He had even shifted his flag from the big ninety-eight-gun St George to the Elephant because the latter was smaller and had a shallower draught so that she could get closer to the shore without grounding.
Bolitho lowered the glass and glanced around at the familiar faces of the watch on deck.
Old Grubb, squinting at his traverse-board with his master's mates. Wolfe, staring up at the maintop where some marines were exercising with a swivel-gun on the barricade. Browne, standing almost knee-deep in bright flags as his midshipman and assistants brought down another hoist of signals from the yards.
And Herrick, he seemed to be everywhere, as usual.
Bolitho said, 'Anchor when it suits you.' He glanced at the masthead pendant. `Wind's dropped a bit. It has to be perfect for our work.'
Herrick nodded and crossed to join the sailing master by the wheel.
'Be ready to box the ship off, Mr Grubb.' To Wolfe he called, `Shorten sail. Take in the t'gan's'ls and maincourse, if you please.'
Calls shrilled again and men dashed to their stations for reducing Benbow's display of canvas.
Bolitho watched them, the patterns they made as they scurried up the ratlines to the topgallant yards, or loosened belaying pins while they awaited the next order from aft. Hardly any hesitation now, even amongst the latest recruits or pressed hands. Men not ships. Herrick's comment of six months back seemed to be fixed in his mind.
He saw Midshipman Penels by the-mizzen shrouds, dwarfed by a boatswain's mate and a handful of seamen. He moved like a puppet and rarely showed interest in anything around him. Herrick had told Bolitho about Pascoe's visit, how he had tried to defend what Penels had done. The rights and wrongs seemed small in comparison with the next few days, and only Babbage's unfortunate death was indisputable fact.
Herrick had been unusually uncharitable about Penels. 'Not fit to receive a commission, sir. A mother's boy. I should never have accepted him.'
Bolitho thought he could understand Herrick's attitude, just as he could sympathize with Pascoe's rash attempt to recover the deserter.
Herrick had never had an easy time. From a poor family, he had been made to win each single advance without favour in high places. But he loved the Navy all the more because he had earned it, and seemed unshakable when it came to others less determined.
When Bolitho had tried to find some excuse for Penels' behaviour, Herrick had said scathingly, `See the Styx over yonder, sir? Her captain was Penels' age when we put down that 'bloody mutiny together! I didn't hear him moaning for his mother!'
