Inferno (29 page)

Men were posted around the sombre building and evening began to draw in.

Orders were given to prepare a bivouac. Not under fire, this was clear-cut enough, but Maynard had never heard of the manoeuvre done when contact with the enemy had not yet been established. By now there were thousands ashore, headquarters staff and even artillery beginning to form up in a comforting army routine of order and discipline.

After a welcome evening meal Maynard lay down with his men, under arms by ranks, with knapsacks for pillows. They
had found an arena of soft sand where the regal horses were exercised with only clouds of midges intruding. He stared up at the stars of the night and wondered what the next day might bring.

‘S
ilence! I will have silence!' Generalmajor Peymann hissed, his face working.

With tight looks and rigid bearing, his senior commanders complied.

‘We are here to regularise the defences of Copenhagen, not quarrel like cockerels in a farmyard!' He glared about. ‘The English have landed, I grant you that – but what does this mean? If—'

‘It means, Herre Generalmajor, that the entire expedition is ashore with all their impedimenta!' barked Generalløjtnant Bielefeldt, commander of the land forces. ‘And it'll be a damned near impossible task to dislodge 'em.'

‘Quite,' Peymann said. ‘Yet there is a reason.'

‘A reason, sir?' spluttered Bielefeldt. ‘When every military rule ever made says we must destroy an assault before it can fix itself ashore? Is this why I've orders to retire my forces to avoid a confrontation with the enemy?'

‘Your choice of words betrays you, sir. The English are not the enemy, as you term them, we are neutrals still. At
the moment they are guilty of no more than a species of trespass. That is all.'

‘Are you blind? They're—'

‘Have a care, General!' Peymann said dangerously. ‘These are not my words.'

His eyes flicked once to the figure of Joachim Bernstorff sitting quietly to one side.

‘His Royal Highness has specifically desired me to ensure that if this is to be a matter of war, then it is to be left to the British to fire the first shot and thereby earn the opprobrium of the world. That first shot has yet to be fired.'

Bielefeldt shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Let me make it plain. At the moment there are some fifteen thousand English soldiers on our soil. To oppose them I have at most five, seven thousand. They are landing artillery, we have—'

‘Enough! As yet we do not know their intentions. Until now, the British have treated us fairly. They pay the Sound dues without complaint and have respected our neutrality. Why should they hazard their character in pursuit of some security pledge that is not in our power to give?'

Krieger leaned forward to offer a grubby sheet of paper. ‘I think you should read this, Generalmajor. Printed by the invaders and clandestinely circulated in the city.'

Peymann took it and pursed his lips. ‘It says they come in peace, to defend us against the disturbers of peace, the French. Repeats that nonsense about releasing our fleet into their custody and they'd sail away in friendship.'

‘The last paragraph, sir.'

‘Oh. “If these offers are rejected then innocent blood will be shed and the horrors of a besieged and bombarded capital must fall on your heads.” Why, this stands with all the rest, a frightener.'

‘I rather think not.' Bernstorff's words brought an immediate hush to the room. ‘Consider – this paper constitutes a declaration, a public statement of intent before the world. Should we ignore it they will not skulk away, their bluff called. No, they are in deadly earnest and this you must take under the most serious concern in your deliberations, sir.'

‘They will not dare to make open assault against Copenhagen.'

‘I say they come prepared to do so.'

‘
Disse elendige englændere!
' spat Kommandør Bille, glaring at Peymann. ‘The real reason they're here is to take Sjælland and make it their sure base for their Baltic operations. All else is a mockery!'

‘Sir, you will note they're very specific. They want our fleet and nothing further.'

‘Our fleet?
Fandeme mig nej
, and they'll not get it while I'm still alive and in charge!'

Krieger stirred restlessly. ‘Sir, it galls me that the English transports are at the beaches and I've gunboats enough to set about 'em, like a wolf among sheep,' he growled. ‘Their fleet of battleships can't go inshore, they'd be helpless before our guns, and—'

Peymann regarded him coolly. ‘That first shot, sir?'

‘We must do something!' blurted Bielefeldt. ‘Anything!'

‘Calm yourself, sir. I grant that they may go so far as to encircle the city and even lay siege, but as chief engineer of the fortifications and walls I'm sanguine they'll never prevail. The Citadel and ramparts, the many bastions and miles of fosse before them will prove impossible. No, sir, if we stay within the city walls we'll be quite safe.'

‘And if—'

‘We remain quietly in our city while His Royal Highness
recalls his relief army from Holstein. And, as you sailors know, the season is drawing in, so they and their fleet must leave. It's only a matter of patience.'

‘Then, sir, you've determined to do nothing.' Bernstorff's eyes were unreadable.

‘The Crown Prince has seen fit to place the protection of his people and their city under my command. I intend to do my sacred duty by His Highness.'

Bernstorff rose with dignity and bowed. ‘Very well. My further attendance at this council would seem irrelevant. Good day to you, Herre Generalmajor.'

Peymann followed him out with his eyes, then resumed the meeting. ‘Points have arisen that I believe deserve a further examination, gentlemen. General Bielefeldt, what is your understanding of the readiness of the militia to take up arms?'

‘Hmmph. They'll obey orders, if that is your meaning.'

‘I was thinking more of—'

The door opened and Bernstorff stood there wordlessly, holding a paper.

‘Yes, Herre Bernstorff?'

With a set face the minister approached and handed him the paper. ‘Sir, it is war. The Crown Prince has declared war on Great Britain. Sir, you are commanded to seize all British citizens, to confiscate their property and take all measures commensurate with an opening of hostilities.'

Peymann held it in hands that trembled.

Krieger jumped to his feet, knocking his chair askew. ‘War! Be damned, but we're off the leash at last.'

‘And further,' added Bernstorff, ‘he commands that you defend his capital and people to the last, for the honour of Denmark and the Crown. He bestows all powers on you,
the supreme commander. Sir, I'm aware that this has not turned out in the way you thought it would, but time presses. I'm to leave Copenhagen this hour to attend on His Royal Highness with news of your dispositions,' he finished meaningfully.

Peymann sat with a stricken look as the paper drifted to the floor. ‘Er, I …'

‘An immediate evacuation of the capital by the civil population?' prompted Bernstorff.

Peymann seemed not to have heard, then replied unsteadily, ‘The Crown Prince has placed the protection of his people in my trust. This is my first and highest duty. How can I do this if they're wandering at large in a countryside swarming with British redcoats?' His tone strengthened. ‘No, sir. My orders are that at sunset today the gates to the city will be closed, before which all Danish citizens will be taken inside for their safety. We defy the English as of this moment.'

Krieger leaned across the table and glowered at Peymann. ‘Then, sir, do you now say to me this is a shooting war?'

‘Kommandørkaptajn Krieger – it is.'

K
eats's squadron had left Elsinore and cracked on sail along the north coast to the entry point of the Great Belt, where a long finger of land ending in a grassy bluff pointed out to five miles of treacherous sub-sea reef.

They were anchored in its lee, four 74-gun ships-of-the-line with five frigates and smaller vessels, an unanswerable potency should the Danes dare to oppose them.

This was one of three entrances to the Baltic, all commanded by the Danes, but foreign vessels were restricted to just one, the direct passage past Kronborg and through the Sound. This was where the toll was collected, a substantial part of the state's revenue. The two others – the Great Belt and the Little Belt – were kept from outsiders by the simple expedient of jealously guarding the secrets of their navigation.

The reputation of this narrow, reef-strewn passage was enough to deter all but the foolhardy and few ventured this way. But for the squadron there was no alternative.

* * *

Kydd was summoned to a bracing ‘all-captains' meeting with Keats, who left no doubt about the conduct of their mission, the isolating of the Danish in Copenhagen on their island of Sjælland.

‘Carry on,' he told his transparently curious first lieutenant, as soon as he returned aboard
Tyger
. ‘And all officers to attend in my great cabin in an hour, if you please.'

‘Be seated, gentlemen,' Kydd said, as his officers entered. ‘We shall dispense with formalities. Refreshments?'

The table was laid out with charts and the chairs left deliberately casual. They settled self-consciously, Bray's heavy presence at one end dominating, Bowden and Brice on either side. The master wore a deep frown and seemed unsure where to sit.

Kydd addressed him first. ‘Now, Mr Joyce, I've had a good steer from the commodore as we can work to. Be that as it may, I'll not hide it from you all. This is going to be a fraught exercise by any man's reckoning.' He found the Denmark chart and smoothed it out. ‘You'll know that this country consists of the mainland – that's the peninsula of Jutland – and its islands to the east. That's Fyn, then our Sjælland. Our duty is to completely surround and isolate this last to prevent any reinforcement or interference.'

Joyce hovered over the chart, muttering.

Kydd continued, ‘The hard part is getting through the Great Belt, for afterwards it's an open sea swing around the southern islands to end up at the opposite end of the Sound to where we started. Clear?'

Bray caught his eye. ‘Then the squadron sails back an' forth in this Great Belt while Admiral Gambier pastes the Danes on his side.'

‘No, sir. The commodore's plan is to sail through and leave off a sail-o'-the-line here, a frigate there, at the most likely crossing points, while the rest sail on. Those left take station at Møn at the other end of the Sound, keeping a weather eye open for any who want to join the sport from the south'ard – remembering the whole coastline belongs to Boney now.'

‘Ye said it'd be a hard beat for us, Cap'n. I'm thinkin' it's going to be even worse'n ye fear, sir,' Joyce worried. ‘There's sailin' masters gone mad, conning a ship o' size through the Great Belt in light winds.'

‘Steady yourself, Mr Joyce. We've a sovereign remedy for your gripes – I've a complete sailing directions, thoughtfully made up by your colleagues in Nelson's fleet the last time we were here. He gave out orders they were to take the opportunity to return by the Great Belt and survey a route as they went. It's all there for you.'

Joyce found the pack and laid it out, then looked up accusingly. ‘This is no chart, sir! It's a rutter o' sorts. Safe bearin's, transits an' such – but this is proceedin' to the north, an' we're southbound. So everything is back-bearings, breasting a current instead o' going with it and—'

‘The squadron will be preceded by
Mosquito
brig-sloop. She'll be going ahead with boats, laying dan-buoys as she goes.'