Prison Ship Read Free Page B

stopped hourly to test the depth of the sea. Tarrying in these shallow waters made the journey more irksome. I just wanted to fight and be gone. Then, God willing, we could head south to warmer waters. The older sailors had more patience.
    â€˜Coast round here’s well known for its treacherous shallows,’ said Tom at supper.
    â€˜Aye,’ said James. ‘That young bride o’ Hyde Parker’d be rather disappointed to find her new husband shot for incompetence when he grounded half his fleet beforethey even got to Copenhagen.’
    â€˜Oh, I don’t know,’ said Vincent. ‘She’d be getting his Vice Admiral’s fortune, without having to put up with his amorous attentions. Imagine that – how old is he? Sixty if he’s a day. And she’s only eighteen I heard. If they shot ’im, I’d bet she wouldn’t believe her luck!’
    Talk around the mess table turned to what would happen when we reached our destination.
    â€˜I reckon we just need to shake a big stick at the Danes,’ said Tom. ‘That’ll be enough to drive them out of this alliance. They’ll not want their city destroyed. I’ll eat my hammock if there’s any actual fightin’. So there’s every reason to avoid gettin’ grounded. Wouldn’t make us look very threatenin’ would it?’
    Every day fresh rumours reached my ears about the strength of the Danes and their willingness to fight. On March 21 we anchored two or three days’ sailing away from Copenhagen and the rumours grew more alarming. Sweden, it was said, had sent a fleet to help defend the city. The Russians had freed their ships from the ice, and were even now heading south to fight us.
    What was true and what was not, we would only discover when we arrived at Copenhagen. At night I dreamed of a huge armada waiting there to destroy us. As the prospect of battle looked more likely, the men grew restless. Fights broke out. Tempers frayed. The cold and the tension were eating away at our morale.
    * * *
    On the morning of March 26 I passed by Robert Neville when I was fetching provisions from the hold. ‘Lord Nelson, Sam!’ he said to me, his eyes alight with excitement. ‘Lord Nelson! He’s coming to this ship this very day. He’s going to be fighting with us here – leading a squadron into battle.’
    I couldn’t quite believe it. I had never even seen anyone you might describe as famous and the prospect of being on the same ship as our greatest admiral filled me with excitement. ‘Why us?’ I asked.
    â€˜The
Elephant
has a shallower draught than the
St George
,’ said Robert. ‘He’ll be wanting to get close enough to the Danes without fear of grounding his ship. Take a 98 gunner like the
St George
into water that shallow, and you’re almost begging to be grounded. This is a secret between the two of us. But don’t worry, you won’t have to keep it for long.’
    Robert needn’t have worried about that. Before the forenoon watch was half completed I had been told by three other seamen. ‘Well, that’ll be something to tell the bairns,’ said James.
    Nelson arrived that afternoon. We were scrubbing the deck, and the whole ship stood to attention to welcome him aboard. None of us needed telling that the diplomats had failed. No sooner had Nelson joined us than the fleet weighed anchor. As the wind filled the
Elephant
’s sails a little knot twisted in my gut. So much for all our talk of avoiding battle.
    As we sailed on, Captain Foley took him up to the quarterdeck on a tour of inspection. I was surprised to see how small he was. I was approaching my fourteenth birthday but I was tall enough to be able to see the top of his head. He was slight too – a wiry, narrow-shouldered man. If it wasn’t for his weather-beaten seaman’s face, I would have said he looked more like a dancer than a fighter. But his