by Jens Kuhn
“Married to a soldier, she is. But if he is still alive, we do not know...”
The next morning the snowing had stopped and Baker was able to resume his journey. It was still cold, almost colder still than the day before, but at least the sun was shining and the landscape was all aglitter with reflections from the snow. Baker literally had to squint in order not to be blinded.
However, the road lay clear ahead and he made it to Dalarö by lunchtime. Leaving his horse at the small tavern in the village, he walked towards the docks and saw his ship once again. The ice was thick around the frigate now, in fact thick enough for it to bear both man and horse. There were other ships in the anchorage, frozen in as well. Most of them were merchant ships, brigs and flat bottomed things with a cutter rig, designed to carry a huge deck cargo of wood.
Baker shuffled carefully towards his ship. This felt wrong, you weren’t supposed to walk on your own feet towards a frigate at anchor. But walk he did and when he was a few yards away, a marine sentry challenged him formally, even though he could clearly see who he was.
“Tartar!” He answered equally formally, stating his position as the ship’s commanding officer. He then walked towards the side of the ship and climbed aboard her like he had been carried there in his gig. The bosun’s pipe shrilled.
On deck, he was greeted by his first lieutenant.
“Welcome back, sir!”
“Thank you, Reeman. Please pass the word for all officers I’d like them in my cabin at once.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Oh, and tell the galley to bring us something hot. I don’t care what it is, as long as it warms me up.”
Ten minutes later, his officers had gathered in the frigate’s great cabin. A brazier with glowing coal was holding the worst of the cold at bay, but still the men were all wearing their greatcoats.
“Well, gentlemen,” the captain said. “I am sure you are very eager to hear the latest news.”
The men nodded.
“It is not very good at all. The news.” Captain Baker coughed. “The Swedish king has apparently decided to seize all British shipping on his west coast.”
There was a nervous shuffle among his officers.
“Yes. Now, this does only apply to merchant ships at the moment and not at all on this coast. Nonetheless we will make ready our guns and double our marines’ guards.”
“Shall we clear for action?” Reeman asked.
“No. I don’t think that is necessary at the moment.”
“Aye aye, sir”.
“Now, also be aware, that there are many rumors about revolution, and it might very well be so that the king is not to be king for very much longer.”
More shuffling. Then Reeman spoke. “I am sorry, sir, but I still do not understand what is to be our part in all this.”
Captain Baker grunted. “Neither do I, Mr. Reeman. But I am confident it will all come into the light, eventually. In the meantime, gentlemen, I want you to ponder about another little problem. As you know the sea is all frozen toward the capital. But it is only a few miles to open water the other way. So would there be a way to get out – if it should occur that we must?
He looked around at his officer’s faces but saw nothing but incomprehension.
Lieutenant Kuhlin was sitting as his desk when his wife brought him the note.
“It looks like there will be no dinner with that English captain of yours,” she said, handing him the single sheet of paper.
“Oh.” Kuhlin read it. “Well, he had to go back to his ship. Naturally enough I suppose. Still I wonder why the hurry. After all his frigate is frozen in and cannot move for weeks...or months.”
Charlotte looked at him questioningly. “Johan?”
“Yes darling?”
“Why are you so interested in this British captain?”
Kuhlin frowned. “Well, to be frank, I think he owes me money.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Owes you money?”
“Well, not he personally, I suppose. But, do you see, last summer we helped him capture this Russian brig, hiding in between the islands, in waters too shallow for his ship to pursue. And I never got any prize money.”
Chapter 8 – Discoveries
The two men were all soaked with perspiration in the hot, steamy air of the sauna. They were sitting on the top bench of three, nearest the roof and thus the hottest air, totally naked, except for a thin cloth around their waists. The air was heavy and moist with steam – one of the girls had just thrown a bucket of water on the hot stones atop the iron wood stove. She wore only a thin linen gown which clung to her body like a second skin, wet as it was.
Ensign Dillquist looked at the girl lazily, wondering how she could work all day long in this heat. But probably they got used to it, he thought. As well as to the naked men and women who visited this place.
Public bathing houses, saunas, had been in existence in the Swedish capital for at least a hundred years. They had once started as a place for ordinary people to clean themselves up and do their laundry as there weren’t too many homes who had the necessary facilities for it. But just like the ancient roman baths they had become much more than that. Now they were places where people could meet for a chat while they succumbed their bodies to the sensual delights of being thoroughly warm despite freezing outside temperatures and purge their pores of dirt, sweat and whatever they might hold. In fact, a sauna bath was at least as health-restoring as a good session of bloodletting.
Of course, the best sauna is the private one, a small hut with just one or two wooden benches and an iron stove, near a lake or beach, with a jetty to deep enough water for a plunge. A plunge that, during the winter, could be taken right into the ice cold water in a hole sawn into the ice.
But here, in the city, such a thing was not to be had. Instead the public bathing house, located in the basement of an old stone building in the southern part of the town, featured a much larger room, a much larger stove and two big wooden tubs, filled with water. One of those was currently occupied by a middle-aged woman. Despite her being completely immersed in the water, enough of her pale flesh was visible to attract Dillquist’s attention. He was, however, not aroused in the least, his interest merely being a lazy kind of curiosity. After all, there was not a man in the world, who would not look at any naked female, if only for a short second.
Apart from the woman in the tub, there was another customer. An old man was sitting on the lowest bench, farthest away from the stove. The second of the two girls who worked the place was flogging him lightly with a birch twig complete with leafs and everything to increase his blood circulation and purge his pores more efficiently. The sauna girls were famous for having no shame at all, working the whole day amongst naked people, rubbing them with sponges and showering them with buckets of water. However, they were not whores and any attempt to take advantage of them would have been unthinkable. At least while they were working, thought Dillquist. Although the little one who just entered with another bucket of water to be thrown on the stones was exceptionally exquisite indeed.
“Don’t even think of it,” the man next to him said. It was, of course, sub-lieutenant Winther.
Dillquist sighed. “You know, it must have been months ago I even saw a girl with so few clothes on. Let alone touched her.”
“There will be plenty of time for distractions like this later,” Winther replied. “But now we have more important tasks at hand.”
Dillquist struggled to keep his eyes off the girl. “I know. But I am getting a little too hot here.”
He raised his hand and made a sign to the girl. “A bucket of water, please.”
She smiled at him. “Coming right up, sir.”
Winther frowned. “Now, tell me. What do you think, general Döbeln would do, if our plan came through?”
“I don’t think he would do a thing. He is, indeed loyal to the king, that’s for sure. But he has his hands full with the Russians. They are to march over the ice and
attack him any day now. They might have done it already for all I know, what with the news traveling so slowly.”
The girl came back in then and climbed up to them. She crouched next to him and started to slowly pour water over his body from the bucket she had been carrying. Dillquist sighed and looked at her. “Thank you.”
She smiled, still pouring water. Dillquist felt the warmth of her body next to him, smelled her fresh sweat through the moist linen gown. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, not at all like the stale old sweat of an army tent at night, but a sweet, almost promising scent. Like the smell of a girl when you have sex with her, Dillquist thought. He was suddenly aware that his thoughts were showing under the thin cloth that covered his groin. He turned back to Winther abruptly.
“So don’t worry about Döbeln,” he continued. “Instead, we should be thinking about what our friend Gray is worrying about.”
“Ah,” Winther said. “Gray is just a scared old man.”
“No. I think he has a point. You can’t just start a revolution. You need to have a plan as for who is to be in charge afterwards.
“Do you want me to fetch another bucket?” the girl asked, smiling.
General Döbeln did indeed have other things to worry about. He was, of course, aware there were plans for a coup d’état in the capital. However, he was confident that there wouldn’t come anything of it in the end. After all, there had been rumors for months, but nothing had happened. Also, the police were aware of the problem and would certainly keep their eyes open. So Döbeln concentrated on defending the Åland islands. There had already been skirmishes with Russian cavalry, cossacks, who had been probing the Swedish defenses.
And it was March now. The ice would not be safe for more than another month at most and surely not even the Russians would advance over so late that they couldn’t be sure they could ever get back. They were confident of winning this war, and Döbeln had to admit that they would, lest there was any chance of a diplomatic solution. A solution which certainly would entail the loss of Finland and probably even of the Åland islands. Still, he would make his stand as he was ordered to do.
However, Döbeln wasn’t the only general in the Swedish army. And others weren’t as loyal to the king as he was. One of them was Adlersparre, and on March 6th his army occupied the city of Karlstad deep in the forests to the west. From there, he would march towards the capital, in order to overthrow the king by force, thus bringing Sweden to the brink of civil war.
Commander Kuhlin was having coffee with his wife when there was a knock at the door. The maid put down her tray and went to answer it. When she reappeared with the visitor in tow, Kuhlin rose with a broad smile. “Bosun Tapper! Pray come in. How are you doing?”
“Well, just fine, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Tapper, who had been bosun on Kuhlin’s boat during the last summer’s campaign, was placed at the table and served a steaming cup of coffee. “You want something strong in that?” Kuhlin asked.
Tapper nodded, grinning. Kuhlin poured a reasonable amount of vodka into the coffee.
“You like it as they say in the North, don’t you? Enough coffee to make the bottom of the cup disappear, and then as much vodka as it takes to be able to see it again?”
“Aye.” Tapper lifted the cup and took a sip. Then he sighed.
Kuhlin watched him. “Is everything alright, Tapper?”
The bosun looked down into his coffee for a while. Then he coughed and started to speak. “Well, sir, to be frank I don’t know. You see, I’ve been seeing this girl lately...”
Charlotte Kuhlin widened her eyes. “Oh! So good for you.” She smiled at him. The bosun actually blushed under his beard. “Eh...well, madam...”
“Go on, Tapper,” Commander Kuhlin encouraged.
“Well, sir, do you see, she works at this bathing house...and....”
Kuhlin laughed. “You got yourself a sauna girl?”
Tapper blushed deeper.
“Sorry, bosun, I couldn’t resist.” He chuckled.
“They are not whores, Johan,” Charlotte said, her eyes narrowed.
“I know, dear, I’m sorry. I am glad for you, Tapper. Please continue.”
The bosun took a deep gulp of coffee. “Eh, yes. Well, sir, she works at this sauna, alright. And yesterday she told me of those men who she had heard talking and....”
“Ah, she was eavesdropping?” Kuhlin couldn’t resist. “Her name is not possibly Anna, is it?” He grinned.
Tapper looked dumb folded. “No, it’s Karin. Why?”
Charlotte put her hand on his arm. “Don’t pay attention to him, bosun. He is pulling your leg. He thinks you got yourself a spy of your own – just like our dear gunner.”
“But no, sir, madam, she isn’t like that at all. Really. She is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. And so clean and...”
Kuhlin coughed. “Yes, Tapper. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you....”
“...or her,” his wife added.
“Yes, dear. So please do continue. Who were those men and what were they talking about?”
Tapper lifted his cup but found it empty. Charlotte beckoned the maid to fill it and Kuhlin added the same amount of vodka as before. Another gulp and Tapper was ready to continue.
“Well, they were talking about revolution, sir.”
Kuhlin lifted an eyebrow. “A lot of people are doing that these days, Tapper.”
“I know, sir. But they were talking about...well, matters of fact. You see, they knew things. About Döbeln and the Åland defenses...”
“So they probably are officers...”
“...and they had been checking on the king and noting times and routes...when he rides his sleigh between the palace and Haga.”
Kuhlin scowled and his wife widened her eyes. “That might be serious enough?” She said.
Commander Kuhlin nodded. “You should probably talk to the police about this,” he proposed.
The bosun frowned. “No, I won’t talk to no police. They’d just pin it on us, or ask her improper questions, or...”
Kuhlin could understand him. The police didn’t have the best of reputations. But whom could he talk to instead, when one couldn’t even know for sure which officers were still loyal to the king. He sighed.
“Could he talk to Anna?” Charlotte suggested.
Kuhlin thought about that. In fact, he didn’t even know to whom Anna Wetterstrand answered. She had been a spy during the last summer’s campaign in the Finnish archipelago, and then he had received his orders concerning her from the commodore of the squadron. She had been involved in the discovery and finally the death of another spy, or traitor then, and it was clear that she was loyal to the king. But Kuhlin did not know who her superiors were, what rank she had – if there was such a thing as rank in the clandestine trade at all – and if she still was on their payroll. After all, she and af Klint had been tucked away in that estate of his for weeks. But on the other hand – it surely couldn’t hurt to ask her advice.
“Yes,” he said, making up his mind. “That would probably be best. I will send her a note.”
“I could go there myself, if you like? Don’t want to trouble you, sir,” Tapper offered.
“No trouble, bosun. You stay right here and have another tot.”
Chapter 9 – Expertise
Lieutenant Reeman entered the great cabin aboard HMS Tartar in order to see the captain. Baker himself was sitting at his desk, writing in a notebook. He looked up at his second in command and smiled.
“Ah, you are back. Pray sit down Mr. Reeman.”
The lieutenant sat, still shivering from the cold outside. “I can’t believe this cold, sir. How could you ever survive in the Arctic? I hear it’s much colder there still.”
“Well,” the captain said. “It is indeed colder there, but it does not feel so much colder in fact. I understand it has something to do with how much moisture the air holds. Moisture always makes the feeling worse. And in the Arctic, the air is very d
ry, while here it holds much more water.”
Reeman nodded. “Ah, yes, it’s the same with heat, isn’t it? In the tropics the air feels much hotter than in Egypt, even though the temperature itself can be higher in the desert.”
“Exactly, Mr. Reeman. “Now what have you found out?”
“Um, yes. It is like you thought, sir. About two nautical miles, perhaps a little more.”
“And how thick is the ice?”
“Well, we drilled through it at several places and it is about a foot thick almost everywhere.”
“And the surface?”
“Smooth, sir. Much smoother than I thought actually. There is snow on top of it of course.”
“Very well,” Baker said. This was very good indeed. He had sent Reeman and a small party of men to explore the ice between the frigate and the more open waters to the southwest. As he had suspected, the ice was only solid between the islands off Dalarö and in the narrow part of the sound between it and the bigger island of Ornö. Already at its southwestern tip the sound widened and there the water was almost open, except for a few floating floes.
And even better was that the ice was smooth and not very thick. Of course, a foot of ice was thick enough to ride a horse on, so it wouldn’t be easy to force the frigate through it, but he had some notion of how it could be done. Perhaps.
Reeman looked at him questioningly. “May I ask what you are planning, sir?”
Baker smiled. “Of course, Mr. Reeman. Do you see, when I was on that sloop of war in the Arctic, we met a few whalers who told stories of how they escaped the ice in much more pressing situations than this. In the Arctic the ice is not only much thicker, it isn’t as smooth either, what with currents and storms pressing floes on top of each other into near impenetrable ridges of ice. Mountains almost if you want.”
