by Jens Kuhn
The men continued carefully. They had come to the top of a ridge, below which the vegetation was merely high grass and bushes. The trees had apparently been cut down to build the cottage down there. It was quite small, probably a fisherman’s cottage after all. There was a small jetty extending a few yards into the cove and next to it a construction of piles and ropes was apparently used for drying the fishermen’s nets. Gran ordered his men to stop and looked around the place.
“Seems nobody’s here does it? Well, we split up into pairs and approach from three directions.” He and two men waited while the other pairs made their way around the perimeter. Then they started down the slope towards the cottage, muskets at the ready. Still, it was completely quiet when they all rejoined at the cottage. Gran, pistol in hand, opened the door.
The cottage was simple, with only two rooms. The door opened into a big room that was sparsely furnished with a big table, some chairs and an earthen cooking place. Gran examined the cooking pot. “There is some soup here, it’s still a little warm. This fire has been out for only a few hours.”
His men gathered around the soup. “You mind if we have any?”
“Maybe later. Now I want you to search this place. Also I want two lookouts, one keeping a eye on the cove and the other up the forest.”
Gran turned towards the door that led into the other, smaller room and opened it. This was apparently where the fishermen slept. Two simple beds with straw mattresses and a big trunk were the only furniture. The room smelled faintly of tobacco and something else which he could not make out exactly. Maybe sweat? He turned around and started to leave the room when he changed his mind and took a closer look at the trunk. It was about five feet long and three feet wide and the lid was locked down with a crude leather strop that went around an iron nail at the front side. Gran stepped forward and undid the strop, then started to lift the lid. Curled up, inside the trunk was a beautiful girl.
Sub-lieutenant Gran was only twenty-three years old and had been in the inshore fleet for too long to have any extended experience of the female part of the human race. Chocked, he did not know what to do. He didn’t even know if the girl was alive at first, but then he saw that she was breathing, her breasts heaving lightly under the torn dress that barely covered her. Gran softly touched her head, tried to wake her up perhaps, but then he realized that she must be unconscious. He lifted her carefully out of the trunk and placed her on one of the straw beds.
She really was beautiful, with almost white skin, albeit badly bruised at some places. One of her firm breasts was visible where her dress was torn, with a small pink nipple atop of it. Gran felt a little aroused looking at her, but then he took himself together, took off his uniform coat and covered her with it. He took one last look at her face, then left the room and closed the door. This was too much for him to decide, he needed to get lieutenant Kuhlin over here. Gran took out his pistols and fired them into the sky, one at a time.
Chapter 7 - The girl
It was a beautiful morning. The rain had finally stopped and the sun was blazing from a clear sky while the water in the cove was perfectly still like a mirror. This time of the year dawn came still early this far north and most of the men were still asleep. Two of the gunboats, Number 14 and Gran’s 34 were moored bows to the shore next to the cottage and their crews had pitched their tents on the beach. Dahlberg was less lucky. His boat was anchored in the mouth of the cove as a sentry. Its crew was aboard but mostly asleep as well, wherever they could find space to curl up like cats or dogs. Only a couple of men were awake, sitting around the big bow gun.
There were sentries on the island’s highest rocks as well, so they would get some warning if the Russians would approach. Still the night had been quiet and the men had gotten the rest they so desperately needed. They even had hot food for dinner, thanks to the facilities in the fisherman’s cottage.
Sub-lieutenant Gran had been watching over the unconscious girl most of the night, but finally fallen asleep on the bed next to the one where she was lying. He wondered who she was. Something told him she wasn’t a fisherman’s daughter or wife left behind on this island. If that was the case, for sure she would have a small boat with her. There was no sign of a struggle either, so if she had not been alone, nobody seemed to have tried to defend her. Most probably she had been dumped here by the Russians for some reason. Which then had left after eating that soup. Suddenly Gran realized that the girl was stirring.
Lieutenant Kuhlin woke when he heard the scream. He lifted the lid and climbed out of his coffin-like bunk. Putting on his coat while he made his way towards the bows of the boat he jumped ashore and started to run towards the cottage. When he arrived, the screaming had stopped and the anchorage was again quiet except for the odd bird that had been scared into flight by the sudden disturbance.
When Kuhlin opened the bedroom door he saw Gran and the girl sitting next to each other. The girl was draped into Gran’s big uniform coat, her long hair all over the place, looking utterly vulnerable and helpless in this environment. Seeing Kuhlin enter, she looked up and lifted a hand to wipe away some tears from her face. Gran, who held her other hand, introduced Kuhlin.
“Lieutenant Kuhlin, our squadron commander, and this is Miss Eleonora. I am sorry for the disturbance, Sir, but when she first saw me she thought the Russians were back.”
The girl blinked towards Kuhlin but said nothing. Kuhlin was eager to interview her about the Russians, but realized it would probably be better to leave this to Gran as he looked like having succeeded to make some connection with her already.
“Well, I am glad to meet you, Miss, eh, despite these unfortunate circumstances... I will have some food brought to you shortly and, eh some coffee if there is such a thing on this island...” He broke off. “Ah, and Gran, I trust you will take care of...eh Miss Eleonora for the time being...”
“Aye, of course, Sir.”
Kuhlin surely had enough on his mind already. Still, he hoped the girl would have some useful information for them. The Russians had clearly been here and he was eager to find out where they had gone. Or if they would come back. He decided to make a round of his troops and makeshift defenses here. Also, he would have to replace the gunboat off the cove, its crew desperately needing some rest after a whole night in the crowded boat. He started to climb the rocks.
Sub-lieutenant Gran wondered if there was any way to find some decent clothes for Miss Eleonora. Surely she couldn’t wear his coat in the long run. Maybe one of the bosuns was a good enough sailmaker to mend her torn dress, maybe with the help of a little canvas from one of the boats. Then he realized that the girl was looking at him, her eyes much brighter, almost smiling a little. “You look completely occupied by your thoughts,” she said. “What is it that bothers you so much?”
“Oh, eh...” Gran blushed. “I was thinking about your clothes...I mean...my coat...”
“You want it back?” She started to lift her arm to remove it.
“No, no!” Gran took her arm to stop her. “I mean, your dress isn’t...eh...please, keep the coat...I was thinking if I could find someone who could mend your dress....”
Eleonora almost laughed now. “Yes, that would be very kind. Even if I like the coat. It is very warm and quite soft...”
Gran was saved from another blushing by a knock on the door. “Enter! This must be your breakfast, finally,” he declared. “I hope there’s something for me as well, I am starving, in fact I am.”
The view from the highest point of the island was amazing. The sea was glittering in the morning sun, and all the way to the horizon there were islands of different shapes and sizes. Far away to the south he could see a three masted vessel, probably a frigate, patrolling the edge of the archipelago. She was probably British, perhaps even the HMS Tartar, the one they met weeks earlier. Kuhlin realized that they had been in these waters for more than a month now, but the brief encounter with the Russian Brig was still the only clash with the enemy so far.
&nbs
p; To the Northeast the horizon was broken by hundreds of small islands and skerries. The Russians could be hiding behind any of them and have troops entrenched onto them for that matter. Kuhlin wondered how he ever could rout them out with only three gunboats and less than one hundred and fifty men. Most of which were not even real soldiers. Still he would have to try. Kuhlin started to climb down the hill again.
He found sub-lieutenant Gran outside the cottage.
“How is Miss Eleonora?”
“Oh, quite well, considering the circumstances,” Gran answered. “She had some food and coffee and is now asleep again. Poor girl.”
“Did you have a chance to speak to her? Does she know where the Russians are?”
“Well, she is from Sandö, which is quite far inshore. Her father is the owner of the farm there. But that wasn’t where she was taken. She was out with her brother in some kind of a fishing boat or something. In fact they were on their way to find us.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t really know. Something her father only told her brother.”
“What happened to him?”
“The Russians killed him. They were sailing right into them. Gunboats.”
“What kind of gunboats? Does she know?”
“Well, she doesn’t know much about gunboats of course, but she told me the Russians were putting guns ashore from them, so they must be of the early type?”
Kuhlin nodded. “What happened then?”
“She doesn’t really like to talk about it, but it’s not hard to imagine. The Russians killed her brother and took her with them. Then they came here and had a party, so to speak. Eventually she fainted and they pulled out leaving her in the cottage.”
“So she does not know when they left?”
“No. She was unconscious at the time. But it must have been at dawn yesterday? Surely they won’t pull around the islands at night?”
“Probably not, but you never know. Did she ever count them?”
“Sorry, count what?”
“The Russians, the gunboats? Would be nice to know who we are up against, would it not?”
“Yes, Sir, but I don’t think she really knows.”
By lunchtime, Kuhlin had made his decision. He would leave Gran and a dozen men on the island, together with Miss Eleonora. The rest of his squadron would then proceed towards Sandö in order to find the Russians.
Gran was happy to stay behind and guard the girl, as he expressed himself. However, he was worried to be without a boat.
“We will be marooned here, literally. If the Russians come back we cannot escape, Sir.”
“I know. But there is no other way. I cannot leave a whole gunboat here and we have no smaller boats. You may have two of your boat’s swivel guns though, if that comforts you. If the Russians come, make noise, smoke or whatever signals you find appropriate. And wait for help.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
The gunboats left in the early afternoon. Sub-lieutenant Gran was reasonably satisfied with his situation. He had picked a dozen of his crew, men he could rely on, or at least thought he could. Unfortunately he could not keep his bosun as he was needed to command the gunboat in his place. He did have two swivel guns, though and enough powder and shot to hold off a small Russian force for at least some hours. He also had muskets and cutlasses for all his men. What he did not have was a boat. On the other hand, he probably would not have had use for one really, if the Russians came they would come by boat and chances were really slim he would be able to escape unnoticed in a boat with twelve men and a woman passenger.
The girl. Gran had been too busy to think very much about her these past hours, but he would pay her a visit as soon as he got his defenses sorted. He called for two of his men.
“We’ll have one of the swivel guns on the other side of the cove here,” he ordered. “The other one we will keep here at the cottage. Also I want two sentries, one at the cottage here and one on top of those rocks.”
They would have a tent for the men to sleep in as well. Gran himself would use the kitchen, maybe one of the beds could be moved there, or else he would cope. Anything was more comfortable than the gunboats. They could even have a fire if it started to rain again.
Lieutenant Kuhlin stood in the stern of Gunboat Number 14 and looked aft where his other two boats were following at a cable’s length behind. It was late afternoon, but there were still several hours of light left and he wanted to make use of it as long as possible. Also his men were well rested after the night on the island. He wondered how sub-lieutenant Gran would cope on the island, with that girl. Kuhlin thought about his wife. He had not met her since that last morning in Stockholm, when he had taken command of his boat. So the plan had not worked. He had joined the inshore fleet to see more of his wife, but instead he had been pottering around in Finnish waters all these months with no shore contact at all. He could as well have stayed in the navy proper. At least he would have had a real cabin, warm food every day and parties on big ships of the line. It would have been more comfortable altogether. But he would not have had his own command, let alone a squadron of three. Even if it was mere gunboats.
Miss Eleonora von Sparre, as was her full name, was sitting on her bed, the sub-lieutenant’s coat around her shoulders like a blanket. She was shivering slightly, not really from cold, but from the memory of what she ha been through these past days. Sometimes she wished the Russians had killed her as well, like her brother. But now, after she had been rescued, she wasn’t so sure anymore. There may just be a ray of light on the horizon still. If she only could fix up her dress a little, surely a lady could not walk around in an officer’s coat all day.
She rose and walked to the trunk that stood in the corner of the room. There may just be something in the way of clothes in there, she thought. A knock on the door interrupted her.
“Enter!”
Sub-lieutenant Gran was glad to see her up.
“Miss Eleonora! You are awake! I....eh, never mind that trunk there is nothing in it..!”
“How do you know?”
“Eh...well, I checked it when we arrived here. You see...then it wasn’t empty...”
“It wasn’t?”
“No...eh...I found you inside.” Gran blushed.
“Oh. Well, I thank you for finding me...and...”
“No, it was my pleasure....eh...sorry I did not mean it like that.”
Eleonora moved towards him and touched his arm. “I know what you mean.”
She almost had smiled. Gran felt awkward when he was with her, clumsy and insecure, but at the same time he enjoyed it. She made him feel very much alive. He had finally managed to ask her to remove her dress (after he had left the room of course) and while she was cloaked in his uniform coat he had given it to one of his men, who had some sailmaking skills. An hour later he had presented her with a patched up dress which, while it may not have passed at court, in fact did look quite acceptable. He then had invited her to have dinner with him in the kitchen.
Kuhlin’s boats did not encounter any Russians that day either. When it finally got dark they anchored behind the nearest island, ate some cold food and slept on the boats in order to start moving again at first light.
Chapter 8 – In a hurry
It was raining again and in the rain it was cold. The crew of the three gunboats were drenched to the bone. Still, the physical work of pulling kept them reasonably warm. For the officers it was worse. Kuhlin was standing aft and shuddered in his boat cloak, water dripping down his hat. They had been on their way for two days now and were closing in on Sandö, the island where the girl and her brother had come from. There was supposed to be a farm there, one of the richer ones, with a two-storey main building, painted the classic way with red copper paint and white corners, windows and door frames. If it still was standing. If the Russian hadn’t burned it down.
The bosun was at the tiller. Now he looked up to Kuhlin meaningfully. “Approaching now, Sir.”
“Yes,
it’s time to prepare for action. The Russians simply must be here, it’s directly on the support line to Turku and if they want to bring their supplies by sea they must pass here. And the narrow passage is the perfect place for an ambush on their boats, so they would want to hold the place. Even set up some guns perhaps.”
“Maybe they already have?”
“Maybe, Tapper. We will have to find out. At least the visibility is bad.”
Half an hour later, Kuhlin ordered the boats stopped. He would approach with only Number 14 from here on, slowly and carefully. If the Russians were here he’d rather not have them know too early how many gunboats they had against them.
“Move her in, Tapper, but silently,” he ordered. The men pulled carefully in order to keep the creaking from the sweeps down.
“Up sweeps,” Kuhlin ordered when they were about hundred yards from the shore. The boat glided towards the shore, making no sound at all except the ripple of the water along its hull.
In the bows, gunnery officer af Klint peered into the mist. He saw a rocky shoreline, lined with trees and bushes. A gap in the vegetation then, a small clearing, probably the end of a path or something that led inland from the shore. He beckoned the small party of a dozen men waiting behind him, armed with muskets and cutlasses. Then the bows touched the rocks and af Klint and his men jumped ashore, some making it on the rocks, others landing in knee deep water.
“Down sweeps, back your sweeps,” Kuhlin ordered the boat to back away just enough to have some room to maneuver. “Hold water, and keep your silence.”
Eric af Klint’s party clambered through the vegetation, along the path, but not on it. This took longer, but he wanted his party to stay hidden as long as possible. After ten minutes they reached the farm. There was a light burning inside the main building.
