Fire and Folly (Man of Conflict Series Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  Army boots were not suited to climbing down a ship's side, even a descent of ten feet difficult to control. Sitting the men in a small open boat was also entertaining as they fell over each other's feet and almost over the side. Getting them back out of the boat and up on deck was even more comical.

  Septimus timed the process. It typically took ten minutes to load ten men into the cutter; allowing for half an hour then to get them ashore and bring the boat back - and that might be far too little a time - then each boat could put ten men ashore each hour. They had three boats and the better part of two hundred men to move.

  "The bigger transports 'ave got four boats, colonel, sir. And they can take fifteen men, at the very least, sir."

  "Sixty men an hour. One man every minute from five ships. At most. We must hope that the shore is not defended, sir."

  Septimus had himself rowed across to General Wellesley's ship, the largest of the escort vessels, an eighty gun two-decker. He outlined his figures.

  Wellesley brought the Rear-Admiral into the discussion; Admiral Essington was disinclined to be too helpful - he did not like his job as commander of the escort, wished only to join Admiral Gambier off Copenhagen and there fight an action to match Nelson's of a few years before.

  "If every spare boat in my squadron was put to work, gentlemen, then we could move another three hundred of your men in an hour, using your figures. Hardly worth the effort, one might suggest! Best you should wait until the Navy has taken Copenhagen and then land across the wharves!"

  It was not good enough, there had to be a solution to the problem, and one that did not involve the army sitting and watching while the navy won the war. Wellesley led Septimus to General Cathcart and explained their calculations.

  Cathcart was a cautious man, a general who liked to make thorough preparations before executing a well-planned operation which would take an objective with a minimum of casualties. He was an old-fashioned thinker, believing that the aim of a campaign was to capture land or a city rather than to destroy an enemy's army and, although his own people would only suffer small losses, he would do very little damage to the enemy's capacity to fight again. He was immediately impressed by the figures - a landing across a beach would expose his army to the possibility of substantial losses.

  "Even a small force of, say, heavy cavalry, could cut the first troops to ribbons. A single regiment could cause great harm while the bulk of our soldiers watched from afar, unable to get ashore in time to rescue their colleagues."

  "That is so, sir."

  "Then we must not land at a beach, or not until that beach is thoroughly secured, gentlemen. A fishing village will be the answer... We must beg a frigate of the navy to examine the coast and seek out a suitable place."

  "I have maps of the coast, sir. They are not well detailed, I fear, but they show the locations of the larger villages, particularly those set on an inlet and probably possessed of a wharf."

  "Maps!" General Cathcart was amazed at the very concept, wondered how a soldier came to be in possession of such things. Septimus explained, rather apologetically, that he had been called to Horse Guards earlier in the year and had happened to pass a book shop.

  "Ah! And you had the notion to look inside, to discover maps, sir!"

  "I did indeed, General."

  "Well done, sir!"

  They peered at the map of Zealand and discovered a number of fishing villages. In the nature of things they had small harbours and were often set upon a creek; the largest of the sort had made roads shown, running down to the city.

  They decided on a day's march as the logical distance to land from the city. They could make their invasion in the dawn and then have several hours before the inevitable courier had reached Copenhagen, achieved access to a commander and then had roused out the Danish Army. Assuming they sent cavalry as a first response there would still be a delay of at least four hours between landing and reaction.

  "And if we cannot form a defensive line in that time, gentlemen, I shall wish to be told why!"

  They nodded to each other, all in agreement.

  "Fifteen miles from Copenhagen, sir, to the north, if possible, for the convenience of the navy and of the store ships."

  They returned to the map; Cathcart found an ivory ruler on his writing desk and measured off the required distance.

  "A little more than thirteen miles and we have this place called, what is it now? Vedbaek? They've printed it wrong - the 'a' is on top of the 'e'."

  "A diphthong, sir. The Danes use them a lot. Our alphabet ain't good enough for them, sir. They kept on about them at school, sir. One of the few things I remember, that is."

  There was no indication of the depth of water or of the existence of wharves, but there was a respectable road leading south as well as a possibility of a number of tracks leading inland.

  "It is a coastal village, sir. Might the navy have it on their charts? We have been travelling the waters of the Kattegat and Skagerrak for many a year, sir, and they must have made records of them."

  The Rear-Admiral spoke to his Flag-Captain and he called to the Pilot who produced a chart and a notebook of his own.

  "Thirty years since first I sailed these waters, sir. I have notes of the set of tide and current at all seasons, and of all of the harbours where a ship may run in case of storm in these narrow channels. A gale is no small matter when there is less than ten miles on either beam, sir!"

  They had not considered the point, but agreed it was very probably so.

  "Now then, gentlemen, Vedbaek, you say. Beginning with a vee, no doubt, let me just discover the correct page..."

  The Baltic Pilot muttered as he worked his way through the back of each of his books. Septimus noted that he had several of his personal logs, built up over years of Baltic sailing.

  "Yes, here we are, now... six fathom water in the inlet and a holding ground at ten fathoms close offshore... we can bring the transports into the port and the two-deckers can moor, presenting their broadsides. Wooden wharves on both banks... a stone quay commenced in the year '85... and completed when I passed by in '88. A trade in grain, it seems, sir, with a ship of not less than three hundred tons seen to be tied up... There will be wagon roads as well, one might expect, sir, to bring the wheat and oats and barley to the warehouses."

  "Warehouses starting to fill as well, bearing in mind the time of year. Could be useful when it comes to rations, and to straw for bedding for troops and horses both."

  General Wellesley summed up.

  "Today is Friday, General Cathcart. I would venture to suggest that my Reserve Division could land at first light on Sunday the Sixteenth, sir. Always a good day for it, a Sunday - most of the Army will be in bed with a hangover."

  Septimus agreed, finding no need to comment on what else they might be in bed with.

  They turned to the sailors.

  "Admiral Gambier will not approve, General Cathcart."

  "Give him my compliments and tell him that he can have two church services on the week following, sir!"

  Rear-Admiral Essington was inclined to huff at that - Admiral Gambier was renowned as a blue-light officer, as like as not to be found with a Bible in his hand, but it was not for the Army to mock.

  "I will make the case for military necessity, General."

  "Thank you, sir. Your division to land first, General Wellesley. Is your cavalry up yet, sir?"

  "Aboard ship, sir, from Pomerania. King's German Legion, the best we have, sir. There will be a substantial element of their infantry as well. To hand we have the Hampshires and the Gordons and the Rifles and elements of artillery. Colonel Pearce will have the honour of leading the way, sir; his Hampshires are a recently-blooded battalion, not so long returned from India, while the Gordons, like most of our regiments, have not been to war in the last seven years. The five companies of the Rifles will lead the advance on Copenhagen."

  "Can you control your men in the port, Colonel Pearce?"

  "While they ar
e sober, most certainly, sir. They will not remain in that condition if they can possibly help it, of course, but they also know well that I shall see the backbone of any man who mistreats a civilian without the justification of a sack. With the ships moored rather than using boats it will be possible to keep the companies in good order and to march them a mile or so inland immediately. We shall seek out a defensible line, sir - a stream or the edge of woodland or hedgerows along a road or the brow of a hill, if they have such - it looks like flat land, but there is always some feature that will lend itself to our assistance."

  "Very good, sir. I shall look to see you in position at the earliest, sir. The very earliest!"

  "It will be done, sir."

  Essington sent his Baltic Pilot across to Septimus' troopship and assigned a frigate to act as close escort to the five ships carrying the battalion. The Danes were known to have almost nothing at sea, but intelligence was very chancy stuff; it was always wiser to take the safer course. All officers and the Sergeant-Major were called to conference for Saturday morning.

  "Vedbaek, gentlemen!"

  Septimus pointed to a very simple map of the inlet and harbour pinned to the bulkhead. It had taken the Pilot an hour to expand the pencil sketch in his notebook to a large-scale plan that all could see.

  "We shall land there at about one half of an hour after six o'clock tomorrow morning. If it is a bright, clear day, a little earlier; cloudy, somewhat later. The gentlemen of the navy assure me that it will not rain!"

  There was a mutter of satisfaction; shipboard life was palling and the men were becoming restless.

  "The Pilot - who knows these waters as well as any man you will find - tells me that we may 'belly up' to the stone quay, two moored and two waiting in the stream, while the fifth vessel uses the wharf on the northern bank. If there should be resistance then the order will be given to land north or south as seems sensible. Major Perceval will take his five companies not more than ten minutes to the south of the village to find a first line of defence. Major Carter will hold the north, again at a line less than one mile from the river. Seven companies to the south, where the enemy may be expected to come from; two north and one in reserve. The Grenadier Company to be the reserve. The defence lines will be anchored on the sea, of course."

  They stared at the plan and agreed it should be simple, knowing that some problem was certain to arise.

  "The Gordons will land when our ships are clear and they will march west, inland a mile or two, following this road which seems to keep to the course of the river."

  They noted the location of the Scots.

  "The Rifles, the 95th, will advance directly towards the city. They are light troops. It is our function to hold the line. When we are satisfied that the harbour and immediate hinterland is secure, then the remainder of the expedition will begin to land."

  "When do we march on Copenhagen, sir?"

  "If there is no resistance, then the other two divisions will set out immediately they land. We will hold the port and the immediate area in the first instance. As soon as a garrison is organised then we march to join with the Gordons, to the west of the city. It is my understanding that the general expects the Reserve Division to be used to seek out any mobile Danish forces rather than to take a part in the siege, if such eventuates. The hope is that the Danes will surrender at an early stage."

  "And if they do not, sir?"

  "Then the city will be taken. Our forces are insufficient for a regular siege and we shall therefore have no choice other than to bombard."

  "To destroy the city, sir?"

  "Mortars, howitzers and these new rocket things, all with incendiary shells which will set the whole town afire. That is the intention."

  There was a shocked silence. The burning of towns seemed hardly an honourable way of making war.

  "Do we know how many of these Johnnies there are, sir?"

  "The population of Copenhagen is thought to be about one hundred thousand, Major Perceval."

  "That's a lot of women and children to burn, sir!"

  "Let us trust it will not come to that, Major Perceval."

  Silence fell again.

  "Are there any questions, gentlemen?"

  Melksham raised a hand.

  "Do we know anything of the Danish army, sir?"

  "The short answer is 'no', Mr Melksham. The long answer is that we think it is mostly in the areas of Schleswig and Holstein. It is there either to defend Denmark against the French, or to be put under French control. There are reports of both possibilities. There are ships of the Royal Navy in the waters between Zealand and Jutland, sufficient to prevent many troops from crossing to defend Copenhagen. The troops that are already here are thought to be no more than fifteen thousand in number. Of their quality - who knows?"

  Major Carter spoke for the first time, his voice studiedly uninflected, downplaying the significance of his question.

  "What of reservists, sir? Can they raise more troops quickly?"

  "In theory, yes. In practice, the word is that the reservists serve for no more than five days a year and it is basically a get-together of old comrades who will drink a lot of beer and occasionally wave a musket in the air. But that, of course, may be wishful thinking."

  "One is reminded of the empty wasps' nest, sir."

  Septimus had not heard of that piece of rural lore.

  "The only way to tell if it is empty, sir, is to poke it with a stick and see what happens."

  "Then let us trust we carry a sufficiently large stick, Major."

  Sunday morning showed cloudless in the hours before dawn and with moon sufficient to close the shore in some safety.

  The frigate led the way, lead working to discover the depth of water, the navy preferring to do the hard bits of navigation itself rather than follow mere troop ships.

  Septimus stepped ashore as the first ray of sunlight showed. He was greeted by a yawning, bleary-eyed harbourmaster saying something incomprehensible in Danish.

  There was a single interpreter attached to the Reserve Division; he begged Septimus' pardon and gave a translation.

  "He is saying, sir, that it is too bloody early for any ship to be mooring, and it is Sunday anyway and he has not been informed of our arrival and what the hell do we think we are doing here? I do not think he has discovered the nature of your uniform, sir."

  The harbour-master punctuated the translation with a series of yawns and a thundering fart, then seemed to feel it might be time to open his eyes. He did not seem to be happy at what he saw.

  "Tell the fat bugger that his town is taken and that he is to be held in custody for the while. Take him a couple of steps back, Sergeant Major, he is ripe!"

  There was a crashing of boots and a martial scream from the Sergeant Major who felt that matters should be placed on a more formal and serious basis. The harbourmaster finally realised what was happening and made an even more incomprehensible ejaculation.

  "He says something very rude, sir."

  "I expect I would as well, was I in his shoes. Ask him if he wishes to surrender the village - well, I suppose it is by way of being a small town, really. If he cannot do so, ask him who can."

  The first of Perceval's companies formed up on the quayside and marched out on what seemed to be the road south. Septimus glanced at his watch, saw they had been ashore for less than ten minutes.

  "Very satisfactory!"

  "Sir! Uniformed men, sir!"

  Septimus looked where the soldier was pointing, saw a small group approaching along the quay.

  "The harbourmaster says it is the mayor, sir, and his four constables."

  "Let us trust he has not come to arrest us."

  The mayor, in common with the leading men of every other port, had been given orders directly from the Crown Prince not to commence hostilities with the British. He had permission to shoot in his own defence, if he really must, but he was not to start a war. He explained this while giving his surrender and that of the whole to
wn.

  "The mayor asks, sir, whether we will declare the town to be open, sir."

  "Of course. The town has offered no defence and is therefore entitled to be treated as a non-combatant party. Sergeant Major!"

  "Sir!"

  Bellowed loudly at a range of four feet while bristling fiercely. The sergeant major was playing for the benefit of the civilians.

  "Pass the word that the town has surrendered, that it is open and that its people are to be permitted to go about their ordinary business. There will be no looting. Anything that is taken will be bought, at full price. Hotels, inns, taverns, public houses and boozing dens are all out of bounds to the battalion. Any soldier found inside any such, for any reason, will stand in line for five dozen."

  "Sir!"

  Two more companies were moving out and the pace of disembarkation was if anything quickening as the men watched the company in front and avoided their mistakes, choosing different ropes to fall over. Septimus called to his messenger, the youngest of the ensigns being given the function, and sent him to the troop ship's captain to request him to signal the frigate that the port was taken and that the main fleet should commence its entry.

  The ensign ran the few yards, spoke his words and came back again trotting and puffing with the exertion. It was the overweight boy, Purkiss, Septimus saw. He was correctly uniformed, clean and shiny and came to a good salute as he returned; he had profited from his first weeks of instruction, and he was, it seemed, less chubby.

  “Thank’ee, Mr Purkiss. Are you the least senior of the ensigns, sir?”

  “No, sir. Mr West is such, but Major Carter ordered him to remain ashore at Harwich, sir.”

  “But you had worked hard and so have been deemed fit to go to war?”

  “Yes, sir. Major Carter tells me that I am to work to you for the duration of this campaign, sir, and then I shall be appointed to a company, sir.”

  “Very good. You have made a promising beginning to your career with the regiment, Mr Purkiss. Keep it up!”