Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

The loading was complete and it only remained for Lord Cathcart, the commander of the expeditionary force, to give the order for the fleet to put to sea. As yet the destination of the force was known only to a handful of men in the government and Lord Cathcart, who had been told in the last few days before departure. He had told his senior officers where they were headed - Denmark - but nothing about the purpose of sending the army there. It was puzzling, since Britain was not at war with the Danes. Not yet. Arthur shook his head wearily. Portland’s government seemed hell-bent on provoking neutral powers. The recent policy allowing the Royal Navy to seize vessels, of any nation, suspected of trading with France had outraged them all.

With a sigh, he pulled a sheet of paper across the desk and reached for his pen. He dipped the nib into the inkwell, tapped off the excess and held the pen over the blank sheet.This was not going to be an easy letter to write. As far as Arthur knew, Kitty had no idea that he was about to sail off to war. He knew that he should have told her long before, but Kitty being the nervous, uncertain creature that she was he had told himself that it would be best to present her with a fait accompli , rather than letting her fret for weeks while he prepared his men for war. It did occur to Arthur that this delay in informing her might be construed as ignoble, and have the odour of cowardice, but those who knew Kitty as he did would be well aware that the delay was for the best. He drew a deep breath and began.

My Darling Kitty, I write to tell you that I am to embark on a ship this night to join a small army being sent to fight the French. I have been given command of a brigade and you will be delighted to know that your younger brother Edward is to serve under me. Hopefully it will be the making of him.As for me, I must apologise for being reticent in informing you of my inclusion in this expedition. Given that you are expecting our second child, I did not want to burden your excitable nature with the news that I am returning to active service. Please forgive me, my dearest Kitty, I did not mean to be deceitful.

He paused and frowned as he re-read his last words. She would see through that in an instant, he mused. Of course he was being deceitful; there was no other word for it. But it could not be helped. If Arthur had felt confident that Kitty would receive the news with stoic calm he would have had no hesitation in telling her.As it was, his wife was a very long way from being stoic in disposition and so a measure of deceit was necessary, he told himself, for her own good. He dipped the pen into the inkwell again and continued.

I entrust the running of our household to you and have instructed the family’s agent in Dublin to assist you in your duties, and advance you whatever sums you require, within reason. Try to be brave, my dearest Kitty, and God bless you.

Arthur laid down his pen and read over the brief note. It was very brief, he decided. Perhaps too brief, given that it might well be the last word she ever had from him, apart from being the first intimation she would receive of his involvement in the coming campaign. There was no helping that. He had said what needed to be said and that was that. Folding the paper briskly, Arthur sealed it and thrust it on to the pile of letters he had already written to family, friends and sundry creditors promising to clear accounts the moment he returned. He rang the handbell on the corner of his small desk and a moment later the door opened and the corporal who served as his chief clerk entered.

‘Sir?’

Arthur indicated the letters.‘Add these to the post bag, and once that is done get yourself aboard the Prometheus , Jenkins.’

‘Yes, sir.’

When the corporal had closed the door behind him Arthur stretched back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. His work was finally done. All preparations and obligations had been tended to and now he was about to set off on campaign. There would be dangers to be sure, a voyage by sea not the least of them, but there was great contentment to be gained from the prospect of leaving behind all the petty duties and annoyances of his post as Chief Secretary in Dublin.

No more patronage to dispense. No more wearisome attempts to balance the interests of the various religious communities in Ireland. No more poring over the reports from secret agents paid to sniff out the faintest whiff of disloyalty and rebellion amongst those who aspired to independence for Ireland. There was a brief lull in his thoughts before he was prepared to admit that the prospect of escaping Kitty and her cloying affection and anxiety over his feelings towards her pleased him as well. It was a sad state of affairs when a husband felt that way, he chided himself. But then not every husband had to deal with someone like Kitty. Still, he would be free of it all for some months, and be able to dedicate himself to the unambiguous duty of fighting the French.

Leaning back, Arthur crossed his hands behind his head and gazed out of the window again towards the shipping resting peacefully at anchor in the sunset.That dog, Bonaparte, had the very good fortune of being the absolute authority in every situation, martial or civil, he mused with a touch of envy. And while the Emperor might have to suppress plots against him, at least he did not find himself enmeshed in the sensitivities of others, as Arthur was. He stared out of the window a moment longer, before wearily rising up and quitting the room.

The small fleet of ships from Sheerness put out to sea at first light and joined the larger convoy that had sailed from Deal. As the ships braced up and began to heel to windward Arthur stood on the quarterdeck and watched as the officers and sailors of the Prometheus completed the final adjustments to their sails and the warship settled steadily on her course. Only then were the soldiers permitted on deck, and those who were suffering from the unfamiliar motion rushed to the side and hung their heads over.The rest examined the vessel with curiosity, or simply sat and watched the restless patterns of the waves. The coast of England was little more than an irregular strip of grey between the sea and the sky, and Arthur was slightly surprised that he felt no sense of regret at leaving his country behind. Instead he clasped the ship’s rail and closed his eyes as he relished the salty wind sweeping across his face and ruffling his cropped hair.

An hour later, the coast was no longer in sight, and Arthur drew one last deep breath of the fresh air before he turned away and made for the gangway leading towards the officers’ cabins that lined each side of the wardroom. He had been allotted the cabin of the first lieutenant of the warship, who had simply moved into the next cabin and obliged the ship’s most junior lieutenant to bed down in the midshipmen’s berth. Despite being the quarters of the second in command of the ship, the cabin was barely large enough to contain a cot, a desk and a chair. One of Arthur’s chests was tucked under the cot; the others were in the hold with the rest of the brigade’s baggage. His writing case lay on the desk, and sitting down he flipped back the flap and drew out the orders that had come to him from the War Office a few days before. A short note on the cover of the sealed package instructed him not to open them until out of sight of land, and now he drew a small letter knife from one of the pockets of the writing case and slit the seal. He felt his heart quicken a little as he opened the papers out on the desk. Now he would finally discover the reason for despatching Lord Cathcart’s expeditionary force to Denmark.

His eyes skipped over the preliminary formalities and focused on the main section. He read that the current mission was of the utmost importance to the safety of Britain. The Foreign Secretary, George Canning, had discovered through agents the secret clauses of the recent treaty signed between France and Russia, one of which had detailed France’s intention to seize the fleets of Denmark and Portugal, the last neutral powers in Europe.There was already an army of thirty thousand Frenchmen gathered at Hamburg, poised to invade Denmark the moment the Emperor gave the word. Accordingly, Canning had instructed Denmark to sail her ships to British ports where they would be safe from the Emperor’s clutches for the duration of the war. Denmark had refused to comply and so Lord Cathcart and a fleet of warships had been sent to take the vessels by force.