The Bomb Vessel (29 page)

The captains, commanders and lieutenants-in-command filed out, collecting their written instructions as directed and Drinkwater, looking for his boat among the throng of craft pressing alongside
Elephant
's flanks, found himself button-holed by Mr Briarly of the
Bellona
.

‘Hold hard, sir. I ask you for your support for a moment. Lord Nelson has sent for masters and these damned pilots. They are still arguing about the approach to the King's Deep. You know Fothergill's boat is missing this morning?'

‘Aye, it must have been driven off station by an ice floe, I warned . . .'

Briarly nodded. ‘I heard,' he broke in impatiently, ‘Look, Mr Drinkwater, you seem to have the admiral's ear, can you not persuade him that although there may be greater water on the Middle Ground side it is so steep-to that a small miscalculation . . .'

‘Mr Briarly, his lordship has appointed you to lead the fleet in
Edgar
, surely the rest will follow.' Drinkwater was getting anxious about preparations aboard
Virago
.

‘I was out this morning at first light, if each ship steers with . . .' he pointed out some conspicuous marks to Drinkwater which ensured a lead through the King's Deep.

‘Are you certain of that?'

‘Positive.'

‘And will tell the admiral so?' Briarly nodded. ‘Then I am certain you will carry the day, Mr Briarly. I am sure you do not need my assistance and I beg you let me return to my ship . . .'

‘Morning, Drinkwater.' Drinkwater turned to find Martin at his other elbow.

‘Good morning sir,' Drinkwater said absently, fishing in his pocket and remembering he had left his pocket compass in his greygoe. He would have liked to check the bearing of
Cruizer
to ensure Brisbane had anchored her in the correct place. Briarly had already gone to try and brow-beat the pilots.

‘You are to be in the battle, Drinkwater,' said Martin, ‘thanks to my good offices.'

‘Yours sir?' Drinkwater looked up in astonishment. Martin nodded.

‘I put in a good word for you the other day when I attended Lord Nelson.' Drinkwater choked back an insubordinate laugh. ‘Ah . . . I see . . . er, I'm greatly obliged to you sir.' And then he added with irresistible impishness, ‘I shall inform Lord Dungarth of my obligation to you.'

Martin further astonished him by failing to see the implied sarcasm. ‘I'd be vastly pleased if you would my dear fellow, vastly pleased.'

It was only when he was being pulled back to
Virago
that he remembered he had failed to take a bearing of the
Cruizer
from the
Elephant
.

‘The admiral's just hoisted Number 14, sir,' reported Rogers as
Drinkwater returned once again to
Virago
. ‘ “Prepare for battle and for anchoring with springs on the anchors and the end of the sheet cable taken in at the stern port.” '

‘Very well.'

‘The ship is cleared for action, sir.'

‘Very well, I shall make my rounds now. Mr Easton! Mr Easton be so good as to attend the flagship's signals. Here,' he handed his instruction card to the master, ‘Study that. I do not anticipate weighing until after the line of battle ships.'

Drinkwater led the way below with Rogers following. In the cabin space the bulkheads had been hinged up so that the after carronades and stern chasers could be fired if necessary. ‘Only the gun captains and powder monkeys to remain with these guns, Mr Rogers. All other men to be mustered on deck as sailtrimmers, firemen or for Mr Tumilty's shell hoists . . .'

‘Aye, aye, sir.'

Drinkwater looked at the place where his table had so long stood. Beneath it the previously locked hatch to the magazine had been removed. An artillery private armed with a short fusil stood guard over it.

‘Mr Trussel and bombardier Hite are below, sir. The felt curtains are well doused and Mr Tumilty is satisfied.'

Two men emerged carrying a box each. ‘Mr Willerton's powder boxes, sir, checked for leaks and found correct.' Drinkwater remembered Tumilty's strictness on this point. A leaking powder box laid a gradual powder train directly from the deck to the magazine.

‘Very well.' He nodded encouragingly at the men and reascended to the poop, striding the length of the waist alongside the carronades.

‘Same arrangement for the waist batteries, Mr Rogers . . .'

‘Aye, aye, sir.'

Drinkwater climbed onto the fo'c's'le where Matchett had his party of veteran seamen at the senior station. ‘You will have the anchor ready?'

‘Aye, sir. With a spring upon it sir, as soon as it's weighed and sighted clear.'

‘Very good, Mr Matchett. Leave the spring slack when we anchor again. It is the line of battle ships his lordship wished to anchor by the stern to bring them swiftly into action and avoid the delays and risks in being raked as they swing. We shall most likely
anchor by the head.'

‘Aye, aye, sir.'

‘Good luck, Mr Matchett . . . Mr Willerton what the devil are you up to?'

Willerton appeared suddenly from the heads with a pot of red paint in his hand and his eyes innocently blue in the sunshine that was now breaking through the cloud.

‘Attending to my leddy, sir, giving her a nice red tongue and lips to smack at the Frogs, sir.'

Drinkwater smiled. ‘They ain't Frogs, Mr Willerton, they're Danes.'

‘All the same to 'er leddyship, sir.'

Drinkwater burst out laughing and turned aft, nodding to the men waiting by the windlass. ‘You may heave her dead short, my lads.'

Dropping below by the forward hatch he ran into Lieutenant Tumilty who was no longer his usual flippant self but wore an expression of stern concentration. He was also uncharacteristically formal.

‘Good morning sir. My preparations are all but complete. If you wish I will show you the arrangements I have made.' They walked aft through the hold where
Virago
's four score seamen had lived and messed, past the remaining cables and the space cleared for the artillerymen.

At the after end a hatch opened into the stern quarters giving access to the magazine under Drinkwater's cabin. Tumilty held out his arm.

‘No further sir, without felt boots.'

‘Of course,' said Drinkwater, almost colliding with Tumilty.

‘Hite and Trussel are filling the carcases, the empty shells, with white powder. Hobbs here is sentry and will assist if the action goes on long . . .' Drinkwater nodded at another artilleryman who carried not a fusil, in such dangerous proximity to the magazine, but a truncheon. ‘Once filled, the shells come through here to the after shell room.' Tumilty turned forward, indicating the huge baulks of timber below the after, thirteen-inch, mortar that formed a cavity in which the shells were lodged. Above his head a small hatch had been opened, admitting a patch of light below.

‘We, or rather Rogers's men, whip up the charged shells through that hatch to the mortar above . . .'

‘What about fuses?' asked Drinkwater.

‘As you see the shells are all wooden plugged for storage. I cut the fuses on the fo'c's'le. It's clear of seamen once Matchett quits fooling with his anchors; he'll be busy aft here, whipping up the shells. I rig leather dodgers to protect the fuses from sparks. The sergeant or myself will cut the fuses. This controls the time of explosion. Time of flight, and hence range, is decided by the charge in the chamber of the mortar. As I was saying, the fuse is of special composition and burns four tenths of an inch per minute. A thousand yard flight takes 2.56 seconds, so you see, Nat'aniel, 'tis a matter for a man of science, eh?'

‘Indeed, Tom, it is . . . what of the ten-inch shells forward?'

‘They go up in shell hooks. Now, I've had all hands at mortar stations twice in your absence and they all know what to do. I think we'll take it easy to begin with but we should be firing more than one shell a minute from each gun when we get the range.'

‘What about the dangers of fire? I understand they're considerable . . .'

‘Mr Jex's party are well briefed. We've wet tarpaulins handy to go over the side, buckets and tubs o' water all over the deck and in the tops . . . sure an' 'twill be like nothing you've ever seen in your life, Nat'aniel,' Tumilty smiled, recovering some of his former flippancy.

‘Sir! Sir!' Quilhampton scrambled over a pile of rope and caught hold of Drinkwater's arm. ‘Beggin' your pardon, sir, but Mr Rogers says to tell you that the admiral's hoisted Number 66 and the preparative, sir, “General order to weigh an' the leeward ships first.” '

‘Thank you, Mr Q, I'll be up directly.'

Drinkwater arrived on the poop, reached in his tail pocket and whipped out his Dollond glass. Already the fleet was in motion. On their larboard bow just beyond the bomb vessel
Volcano
, the lovely
Agamemnon
was hoisting her topsails.
Edgar
was already under way, her yards being braced round and the canvas stiffening with wind. Water appeared white at her bow and somewhere a shout and three cheers were called for. Several of the ships cheered their consorts as the naval might of Great Britain got under way. Drinkwater's fatigue, aches, pains and worries vanished as his heart-beat quickened and the old familiar exciting tingle shot down his spine.

They might be dead in an hour but, by God, this was a moment
worth living for! He tried to mask his idiotic enthusiasm and turned aft to begin pacing the poop in an effort to repress his emotions and appear calm.

Bunting rose and broke from
Elephant
's yard arms as hard-pressed signalmen sweated to convey Nelson's last minute orders to the ships. Happily in the confusion none applied to the bomb vessels.

‘
Agamemnon
's in trouble, sir,' remarked Rogers, nodding in the direction of the sixty-four.

‘Damned current's too much for her, she ain't got enough headway . . .'

‘She'll fall athwart
Volcano
's hawse if she ain't careful . . .'

‘And ours by God! Veer cable Mr Matchett, veer cable!' They could see men on
Volcano
's fo'c's'le hurriedly letting out cable as the battleship tried to clear the little bomb vessel while the current set her rapidly north.

They watched helplessly as the big ship crabbed awkwardly across their own bow, failed to weather the mark vessel,
Cruizer
, and brought up to her anchor on the wrong side of the Middle Ground. Within minutes a flat-boat was ordered to her assistance, to carry out another anchor and enable her to haul herself to windward.

Edgar
, with Mr Briarly at the con, began to draw ahead unsupported and bunting broke out again from
Elephant
's yards as Nelson ordered
Polyphemus
into the gap, followed by the old
Isis
. Drinkwater watched the next ship with some interest.

Bellona
followed
Isis
, crossing close to
Cruizer
's bowsprit as she turned into the King's Deep. Drinkwater wondered if her pilot could see his marks and transits through the smoke of
Edgar
's fire as she engaged the
Provesteenen
, the most southerly Danish ship round which he and Hardy had sounded the night before. Beyond
Isis
Drinkwater could
see Désirée
which had got under way early and was already anchored and swinging to her spring to open a raking fire on the
Provesteenen
.

Russell
, an old Camperdown ship and well-known to Drinkwater, was close behind
Bellona
, and
Elephant
's topmen were aloft as the admiral's flagship moved forward to take station astern of
Russell. Ardent
and Bligh's
Glatton
were setting sail.

‘
Bellona
's not following in the wake of
Isis
,' remarked Easton.

‘God's bones,' muttered Drinkwater, ‘I think they are ignoring Briarly's advice.'
Bellona
appeared to have inclined to a slightly
more easterly course than the first ships. As they watched a sudden gap opened up between
Isis
and
Bellona
. ‘What the devil . . . ?

'Bellona
's aground!' remarked Drinkwater grimly, ‘hit the damned Middle Ground and look, by heaven,
Russell
's followed him!'

‘That'll set the cat among the bloody pigeons,' said Rogers.

To the watchers on
Virago
nothing was known of the little drama on
Elephant
's quarterdeck as Nelson took over the con of the battleship personally. Overhearing the pilots advising the master to leave the grounded
Bellona
and
Russell
to larboard the admiral ordered the helm put over the other way, leaving the stricken ships to starboard and averting complete catastrophe. All Drinkwater, Rogers and Easton could see were the leading British ships under their topsails, moving slowly north enveloped in a growing cloud of smoke as gun after gun in the Danish line bore on them. Tumilty and Lettsom had joined the knot of officers on the poop and the
Virago
's rail was crowded with her people as they watched the cannonade.