Inferno

Chapter 59

The Great Belt seaway between Sj?lland and Jutland

Keats’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 Sj?lland.

‘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 Sj?lland. 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 Mon 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.’

‘Hmmph.’

‘And we’ll be attending her as protector, should any interfere.’

Bowden wanted to know their position should they fall in with a Danish ship.

‘Well taken, Mr Bowden. As the commodore hasn’t had word yet of a higher level of who should say war, then the Danes are still neutrals. No firing, no battle. If they’re carrying troops or guns they’re politely told to take ’em back where they came from.’

‘But if they’re not so obliging?’

‘If they’re stubborn, we lay ourselves athwart their bows and if there’s gun-smoke, why, was it not they who started it?’

The delicacies dealt with, the best chart they had was consulted, a copy of a Lubecker some fifty years old and dense with pencilled comments in English.

‘So what are we facing? This chart and our notes tell us it’s one thing: currents. Fierce and unpredictable. Up to three, four knots, which means we have to find fair winds of at least that strength just to stay still. If the breeze dies, it’s a dismal fate awaits a ship caught in their grip. We might have our fairway buoyed for us but if we can’t stay with the course because of these currents …’