‘So you took the King’s shilling. What did you then?’
‘The 52nd is a light infantry regiment.’ Francis waited for understanding, then, not seeing it, explained, ‘We’re different from your regular line regiment. They stand in mass against the enemy with volleys of musketry. We go out on our own in groups to harass the enemy and … other things.’
David grinned. ‘No doubt a mort to take on board.’
‘A quantity of field commands you’ll believe. All passed by bugle-horn and drums. And drills – my God, every day we drill, rain or shine. Two things – musket and manoeuvre. Firelock exercise by number until we can do it blindfold, then still more. Marching – forming fours, column to line, line to square and such all day long. At Shorncliffe – that’s our home – Colonel Moore will not have it other than every officer new to the regiment does fall in with the men and drill with them until he’s satisfied. A good notion, I’m persuaded, as will bring respect. Then it’s to be advanced exercise. For the light bobs, it’s things like advancing in extended order while firing so each may cover his fellow.’
‘So now you’re a regular-borne officer.’
‘To be clear, I’m to take a body of men with the adjutant through any or all field evolution by word of command until he’s happy to let me loose on the enemy. And, as you see, I’m with my regiment now on active service. Ensign Francis Maynard,’ he added, tasting the words. ‘Of the second battalion, the 52nd Regiment of Foot.’ There was pride and immense satisfaction in his voice.
‘Aye. Francis – I’m proud of you.’ David leaned across and gripped his brother’s hand.
For some moments they did not speak. Then Francis said, in a low voice, ‘David. We’ll be on our way very soon. We … we may not have a chance to see each other again. You’ll tell Mama that-’
‘Of course, dear fellow.’
‘It’s just that …’ He paused. ‘Well, to tell it straight, David, you’ve seen the enemy, you’ve taken fire and had men fall by your side. Not once, but many times.’
‘Not so many, old chap.’
‘What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never even had a Frenchman make a face in my direction, let alone look down his musket at me with death in his heart. I – I’m an officer, but how can I know I’ll behave well when it, er, happens? Dear brother, is there anything you hold to that … takes you through … to the other side?’
David was at a loss for words. They were only a brace of years apart in age but an aeon in what they’d lived through. Should he reply with words of glory and honour or tell it as it really was – stark terror conquered only by the burning need not to let his shipmates down?
‘Really, dear fellow, it’s not so bad. Once you get into the battle, you’ve too much to worry on to get a fit of the frighteners.’ This was at least half right. ‘And all there’s left to remember is what you’re taught and go at it like a good ’un,’ he finished lamely.
What was a tender, innocent soul like Francis doing in the midst of the hellish cauldron of mortal combat? He managed a small smile. ‘We’ll meet afterwards and have a rollicking good time, won’t we at all!’
‘Right, David. I won’t let you down, I promise …’
Chapter 37
Three days later Tyger sailed with the tide. Flank escort for a war convoy of more than eighty ships, she found herself to starboard of a sea crowded with sail, set and drawing for Sweden where they were to rendezvous and come under the orders of the commander-in-chief, Admiral Lord Gambier.
In warm summer sun and calm seas it was a bare three days before the distinctive hexagonal white lighthouse of the Skaw was raised, the northernmost tip of Denmark. It was a seamark of legend. Around the point, roils of discoloured water showed where the mouth of the Baltic met the open ocean.
The convoy did not delay, heading directly across the forty-mile entrance to the opposite shore until the Vinga beacon was raised. Ahead lay Sweden and Gothenburg.
There they were met with a sight that took the breath away. Anchored in those outer roads to Gothenburg was a huge fleet, an uncountable number of ships of all kinds, hundreds in warships alone, comparable to Nelson’s Trafalgar fleet, but with store-ships and transports amounting to far more.
In the centre was the largest. This was the expedition they were to join and the ship was the stately 98-gun Prince of Wales, flying the flag of Admiral Gambier.
While they waited for the busy aviso cutters to bring orders out to the newcomers, there was time to take in more of the spectacle.
‘There’s Agamemnon as I’m not a Dutchman,’ Joyce said, and gleefully began his yarn about the time he had seen Nelson in the admiral’s favourite ship.
Second Lieutenant Bowden had been a midshipman in Victory at Nelson’s final battle and had lived through much. ‘That seventy-four beyond Prince,’ he said quietly, ‘Mars, as I last saw taking fire from five battleships around her. She didn’t strike but lost her captain.’
‘She’s always been forward in any kind of action,’ Brice said, with feeling. ‘We were too late to assist when she took on Hercule seventy-four near the Pointe du Raz in a wicked state o’ tide.’
Knowing looks were exchanged: the frightful reefs and rocks on the Brest blockade were well feared.
‘Fought her to the finish – the Frenchy sees more’n three hundred drop and had to douse her flag. Pity of it is that Captain Hood didn’t live to see it.’
Bowden came in again: ‘Some other fine acquaintances I spy. Isn’t that Vanguard ? As will stay with me for all my days on this earth, as a new-breeched midshipman I saw her, masts by the board, being carried on to the rocks in Sardinia, Horatio Nelson being sent to his doom. Captain Ball in Alexander tries to pass a tow but he’s sent away to save himself. He ignores Our Nel’s orders and, in a right welter of seas, tries again and again. Only when the water’s shoaling fast does he get a line across and hauls her clear.’
‘And shortly goes on in her to immortality at the Nile,’ Kydd said, behind him.
‘Oh, hello, sir. Didn’t see you standing there.’
The others fell back respectfully.
‘Well, finish the count.’
‘Sir?’
‘Isn’t that Goliath I see two astern of her? As signal luff in Tenacious, I do remember well her going in first at the Nile. She it was under Foley who thought to pass inshore of the line to take ’em on both sides and win the battle.’
‘Aye, but over there’s a lady beats ’em all f ’r the smelling o’ powder,’ Joyce said, pointing.
‘Orion?’
‘Sir. Was wi’ ye at the Nile, but as well at y’r Glorious First o’ June, at St Vincent – even Trafalgar she made sure she were there.’
Such a roll-call of history. Were they to go on to further glory, conceivably against the Russians to free the Baltic?
A cutter interrupted from alongside with instructions for mooring and the spell was broken.
Chapter 38
At anchor, Gothenburg Roads
The expected signal, ‘All captains’, was hung out promptly, the Yarmouth accession to strength being the last contingent to join.
Piped aboard through the entry-port to the middle gun-deck of Prince of Wales, Kydd could see the flagship was in an advanced state of readiness. Were they expecting trouble this early?
There was a welcome on the crowded quarterdeck: Gambier and no less than four other flag officers.
Kydd paid his respects to the unsmiling, formal commander-in-chief, aware that this was a careful-to-the-point-of-cautious admiral whose devotion to the Good Book had earned him the nickname ‘Dismal Jimmy’ from irreverent sailors.