Beneath the Aurora (25 page)

He turned his heel on them and confronted Dahlgaard, addressing him so that the Americans could not hear.

‘Captain Dahlgaard, you have, I know, no reason to love my country and, from your actions yesterday, I judge you, as I judged your countrymen at Copenhagen in 1801, to be a brave and courageous officer, but I beg you to consider the consequences of what you are doing. These arms are to spread destruction in a country of peace-loving people . . .'

‘I haf my orders, Kaptajn. Please not to speak of this.'

Drinkwater shrugged as though unconcerned. ‘Very well, then it is necessary that I tell you my admiral will be happy to let your vessel pass, if you permit us to take the American ships as prizes.'

Drinkwater had rehearsed the speech and was watching Dahlgaard carefully. The tiny reactive muscles round the man's eyes betrayed the Dane's understanding. Here before him stood a British captain claiming to be from the frigate he had engaged yesterday. Having extricated his frigate, this man was now back in a small man-of-war cutter, hinting at the presence of an admiral in the offing. The British officer emanated an air of unmistakable confidence. Now he had the effrontery to press Dahlgaard further.

‘Come, sir, what do these men mean to you? What do the French mean to you? They have occupied your country and compelled us to make war upon you. They have forced us to destroy your navy . . . would you be known as the officer who lost the last frigate possessed by King Frederick . . . ?'

The King's name seemed to rouse Dahlgaard. ‘The King of Denmark is good ally of France. I haf my duty, Kaptajn, like you. You have no reason to be in Danske waters. No right to demand I surrender these American ships which are', Dahlgaard waved a hand above his head as though drawing Drinkwater's attention to the swallowtail ensigns at the fort and at the
Odin
's stern, ‘under the protection of my flag.'

‘Please yourself, Captain Dahlgaard,' Drinkwater shrugged, feigning an indifference he did not feel. The Danish commander impressed him as a resolute character, not one to be
easily intimidated by Drinkwater's affectation of bombast. He turned to the Americans. ‘I shall see you again, gentlemen.'

‘I shouldn't be too sure of that if I were you, Captain,' remarked one.

‘He's bluffing, Dahlgaard,' added the second. ‘There ain't no British ships in the offing.'

Dahlgaard cocked his head, shrewdly weighing up Drinkwater. ‘You think no?'

‘No. I'm damn certain of it.'

Dahlgaard drew himself up. ‘You are not welcome, Kaptajn.'

Aware that his bluff had failed, Drinkwater bowed to Dahlgaard. ‘Until we meet again, Captain.' He stared about him, casting his eyes aloft and into the crowded waist. ‘A very fine ship, sir. A damn pity to risk losing her.'

‘We'll see about that,' drawled one of the Americans, ‘there'll be three of us, you know.'

Close-hauled,
Kestrel
beat back down the fiord to meet
Andromeda
. As ordered, Quilhampton had brought the frigate through the narrows an hour after noon, cleared for action and with her upper studding sails set. A mile short of her, Drinkwater transferred to the gig and left Frey to gill about until he had exchanged places with Quilhampton. With considerable skill, Wells manoeuvred the gig under the bow of the advancing frigate so that Quilhampton had only to haul round and shiver his square sails for the gig to dash alongside.

Drinkwater met Quilhampton at the rail. ‘She's cleared for action, sir,' Quilhampton said. ‘Birkbeck has the con.'

‘Did you clap a cable on a bower anchor?'

‘Cables on both bowers, sir. And I've led two light springs outside everything.'

‘Very good, James, I didn't notice them. Thank you. No dice with the Dane, but she's a formidable ship. The Yankees are privateers and spoiling for a fight, so keep out of their range. There's a deal of lumber about their decks, arms and the like, but they'll make as much trouble as they can. Try and sink their boats, but James, for God's sake keep out of trouble. I need you alive, not covered in death and glory!'

‘Don't worry . . .' Quilhampton smiled, his eyes sparkling.

And then he was gone, swung one-handed down into the gig, and Drinkwater was once again absorbed into the business of his own ship.

‘Don't wait for the gig, Mr Birkbeck,
Kestrel
will tow her. Let's crack on and surprise 'em. Oh, and keep her close inshore.'

‘Aye, aye, sir.'

‘I'm going below to shift my linen.'

He stared across the water to where the gig was rounding to under
Kestrel
's counter. The white table-cloth was fluttering down from the cutter's bare topsail yardarm. The truce was at an end.

Captain Drinkwater was back on deck in fifteen minutes. For the second time within two hours, the bluff loomed above him as Birkbeck held the frigate's course close under the rocky prominence. This time the battery opened fire as
Andromeda
approached. Shot plunged on either bow, pierced the upper sails and parted a brace of ropes, but did no real damage. The rate of fire was slow but steady, a fact Birkbeck remarked upon.

‘I fancy most of the gunners are assisting in transferring cargo out of the
Odin
into the boats,' Drinkwater observed. The next salvo, fired as they drew ever closer, passed overhead.

‘Good lord, sir, they're firing
over
us. They can't depress their pieces!'

‘Quite,' said Drinkwater smiling, hoping to heaven his confidence in deep water existing up to the foot of the bluff was correct.

A glance astern showed
Kestrel
coming up hand over fist and then they were past the point and the bay was opening up under their lee with the rising pine forest behind, and the muzzles of
Andromeda
's cannon were pointing at the
Odin
.

‘When you bear, Mr Mosse,' Drinkwater called as he studied the bearing of the Danish frigate.

‘Fire!'

And the officers on the gun deck passed on the order.

The following wind caused
Andromeda
to carry the smoke of her broadside with her so that it was impossible to gauge the effect of the first shots. The air cleared slowly; glimpses of the
enemy's masts and yards were briefly visible in the opening rents, only to be obscured as the larboard battery fired again.

Beside Drinkwater, Birkbeck was bawling orders to the topmen and waisters detailed to handle the frigate's braces and sheets as he slowed
Andromeda
, so that her guns might have the maximum effect upon their targets as she swept across the mouth of the bay and her guns emptied themselves first into the
Odin
, and then successively into the American privateers.

‘Take in the stuns'ls, Mr Birkbeck!'

Drinkwater's last words were lost in the concussion of another broadside, but this time it was the enemy's and the air was again full of the buzzing of gigantic bees, of a smack and crack as a ball buried itself in the mizen mast above their heads, and the curious sucking of air as another passed close enough to affect their breathing. There was, too, the twang of ropes parting under load, followed by the whirr and thrap of their unreeving and falling across the deck. Somewhere a man screamed, but that first close broadside from the
Odin
was ragged and their own savage retaliation thundered from
Andromeda
's side as she swept past and poured her fire into the American ships.

Above the quarterdeck the studding sails flapped like wounded gulls, were tamed by their ropes and drawn into the tops. A half-mile past the bay Birkbeck looked expectantly at Drinkwater who nodded and the helm was put down.

‘Hands to tack ship! Stand by the braces, there!' Birkbeck shouted, and
Andromeda
came up into the wind. ‘Mains'l haul!'

It was now that Drinkwater played the only card he held after the empty bluster about an admiral's squadron in the offing.

He had deduced that the wind which had prevailed from the south-west and died during the previous night, would very likely do the same today. He could, therefore, bear down swiftly on the anchored ships, but once he was past them, as he was now, he had two choices. He could come about on to the starboard tack and stand across the fiord as he had done the previous day, rapidly passing out of range and working slowly to windward before turning and running back again to renew
the attack. By then, however, he would have lost the element of surprise.

His second choice was to come right about on the larboard tack and sail directly into the bay under the guns of an enemy, surrendering all advantages beyond that of hitting all three ships again quickly before they could recover from his first onslaught. But he would risk collision, failure to stay again, and the threat of being raked at pistol shot.

‘Haul all!'

He now brought
Andromeda
round on to that potentially fatal tack and bore down into the bay. Despite the hazard of such a move he could cover
Kestrel
's dash in among the boats by drawing the fire of the
Odin
and the Americans, and continue to inflict damage on the former as fast as his gunners could serve their pieces, for with three potential enemies, this could be no tip-and-run raid.

Puffs of smoke along the topsides of all three ships told where resistance was being organized, and columns of water rose up around them as they crabbed down to leeward, gathering way with the yards braced hard against the catharpings.

Ahead of them, already attracting fire and dividing the concentration of the enemy,
Kestrel
had danced insolently into the bay in the wake of the frigate and Quilhampton had strewn his heavy carronade shot amongst the boats. Drinkwater could see two of them awash to the gunwhales, the heads of men swimming round them, then one sank, shortly followed by the other. A moment later
Kestrel
's main boom was swung out and her hull foreshortened as she ran out of the bay towards the approaching
Andromeda
with enemy shot plunging about her.

As
Andromeda
and
Kestrel
passed on opposite courses, Drinkwater could see the little cruiser's bulwarks beaten in where she had taken punishment, but Quilhampton waved his hat jauntily from the quarter where he stood by the great tiller with its carved falcon's head.

‘Closing fast, sir,' Birkbeck cautioned, and Drinkwater looked round and nodded.

‘This will do very well,' he said, staring at the height of the bluff ahead of them and the hard edge of the fort's rampart against the sky. A ball thumped into
Andromeda
's hull and
another whined overhead. ‘I think we should be safe from the fort hereabouts,' he called to the master, ‘bring her round now.'

‘Down helm,' ordered Birkbeck, picking up his speaking trumpet. ‘Hands to the braces!' he roared. Again
Andromeda
came up into the wind like a reined horse, exposing her starboard battery to the enemy.

‘Fire!' bellowed Mosse.

‘Stand by the larboard cat stopper!' shouted Birkbeck. ‘Rise tacks and sheets! Let go!'

The starboard battery now bore on the enemy and its cannon belched fire and smoke at the
Odin
as
Andromeda
's backed yards checked her headway and overcame it, slowly driving her astern. Her anchor bit the sand and dragged the cable out of the ship, just as Malaburn had done the previous day. But now the act was deliberate, placing the British ship not at a supine disadvantage, but with her guns commanding the enemy and strewing the anchorage with her own shot.

‘Clew up! Clew up!'

On
Andromeda
's gun deck the men of the larboard guns now moved over to assist their mates on the opposite side, and the warm cannon poured broadside after relentless broadside into the enemy ships.

But the Danish gunners had overcome their surprise and, with the two vessels now stationary, parallel and head to wind, the odds were rapidly reversed. Nor were the American ships inert and, though slightly less advantageously stationed, with lighter guns and lacking the rigid discipline of regular naval crews, their guns found the range and began punishing the
Andromeda
for her effrontery. The crash and explosion of splinters as enemy balls buried themselves in the British frigate's fabric became regular, and musket shot buzzed dangerously about.

Drinkwater was aware of men falling at their guns, of their being flung back, or thrown aside like dolls in the very act of tending their pieces. He looked up at the fort again. The guns were quiet there and he wondered if the ramparts were pierced for artillery on this side. Whether or not they were, he felt they were again too close under the bluff for carriage guns to depress. Hardly had this satisfactory thought crossed his
mind than he found Midshipman Fisher at his side. The boy was shouting and Drinkwater realized that the noise of the action had deafened him. He bent to hear what Fisher had to say.

‘Mr Jameson says to tell you that Mr Beavis has been killed, sir. A shot came in through the ship's side . . .' Fisher's voice was distant and Drinkwater had to stare at his mouth to understand him. He could see the tears in the boy's eyes.

‘Is it bad below, Mr Fisher?'

‘Terrible, sir. Collingwood's dead, sir . . .' The boy's lower lip trembled.

‘Collingwood?' Drinkwater said uncertainly.

‘The . . . the cockpit cat, sir.'

‘Ah, Collingwood, yes . . . I'm sorry. Do you go and give Mr Jameson my compliments and tell him we're giving the enemy a pounding.'

‘Giving the enemy a pounding. Aye, aye, sir.'

Drinkwater looked about him through the smoke. ‘Mr Birkbeck?'

‘Sir!'

‘What d'you make of the
Odin
? We've shot away her mizen . . .'