The Baltic Prize

Chapter 30

The morning saw them passing Bornholm to starboard, on course for the patrol line later that day at the fleet rendezvous, which would be off Karlskrona, the main Swedish naval port.

Kydd had been in the Baltic before but that had been in the southern part, off Prussia and the ancient Hansa towns. This was the north, colder, more sparsely settled and with the islands bare and patched with scrubby vegetation rather than forested, a bleakness that was distinctive and solitary.

A little after eleven the topsails of the fleet were sighted and shortly all the ships sailed on together until they reached the lee of one of the many offshore islands where their anchors tumbled down into the ice-grey waters.

Talk on Tyger’s quarterdeck became animated. Would the fleet be kept as a whole and flaunted off Kronstadt to tempt the Russians out or would it be sent piecemeal to the various parts of the Baltic that needed a presence?

Saumarez wasted no time in summoning his captains, and Kydd joined the others in Victory, keen to know how the commander-in-chief was going to employ his fleet.

As evening was falling he returned with a satchel of orders, notes and instructions. ‘Mr Dillon – my cabin, instanter!’ he ordered, as soon as he was inboard.

The table was brought out to full size and the satchel contents slapped down. ‘We’ve to hoist these in before we sleep, Edward. It’s a fleet we’re joining, and this one’s set fair to be the hardest-worked of any I know.’

Dillon groaned at the sight. Each of the orders and instructions had to be entered into the right place, ship’s standing orders amended and everyone from the gunner to the purser apprised of their duties. Charts and sailing directions to the master; signal codes to Brice as signal lieutenant; victualling demand forms to the purser; returns expected from the boatswain – it was endless.

‘I’d take it right kindly in you should you give me an offing,’ Dillon said, his sea lingo not up with his erudition in foreign languages.

Kydd agreed as it would allow time to take a glass before they began. ‘Very well. In first, he’s to let Admiral Keats take care of the Great Belt as he’s always done, the Danes showing so valiant with their gunboats. This is his prime attention, keeping the gates o’ the Baltic open.’

‘What about the Swedes?’

‘I’m coming to that. His orders tell him to give assistance, but they’re aggrieved with how it’s to be done. So Admiral Saumarez is playing cautious. We’re not going into Karlskrona dockyard. He’ll keep the seas until there’s a firm arrangement as sees both sides happy. And that’s exercising him more than any.’

‘Why so?’

‘If he can’t touch at any port, how can he victual? We’re leaving the soft tommy for hard tack in a week, and where will be found all the beef and pork fifteen thousand men must have daily?’

‘You say “he”. Does this mean …?’

‘It does. The fleet stays together in these waters so as to make itself useful, whether it’s a mort of trouble in the Sound or from deeper into the Baltic. On the other hand almost all frigates are on detached service. Two in the south Baltic to clap a stopper on any of Boney’s trade wanting to get out, put down privateers and such vermin, two to rove off Norway and the Skaw and two in the upper Baltic to keep an eye on the Russkies.’

‘Ah. Then we …?’

‘Not any of these, Edward, dear fellow. Ours is another course entirely.’

‘Attending on the fleet.’

‘God forbid. No, we brought it on ourselves – it’s outside the Baltic, far away. None other than our old friend Archangel.’

‘The Arctic north!’

‘Yes. Having been there before, Tyger is seen as best suited to go again. This time we go in war array against the enemy. A short cruise only but they’ll know we’ve come visiting, I believe.’

In the morning he broke the news to his officers, who were impatiently waiting for word: that Saumarez thought it proper to investigate the ports of the north and gain intelligence on the Russian military, that they were not amassing a battle-fleet there and that the Dutch had not joined them in an unholy alliance.

Tyger was the obvious choice for the task and so important was it deemed that reinforcements had been requested from England to accompany them.

The rendezvous for the little squadron, Captain Sir Thomas Kydd in command, was to be the west Swedish port of Marstrand, one week hence. There was no time to lose and, stores complete, Tyger sailed.