Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

That night the British fleet sailed within range of the city and began to bombard Copenhagen.Arthur watched from one of the British outposts close to the coast. Scores of flashes illuminated the sides of the warships as their solid shot arced across the harbour and pounded the buildings of the Danish capital. Fire was returned from the citadel that guarded the harbour until the guns there were silenced, and for the rest of the night the ships of the Royal Navy continued to pour a devastating barrage of shot on the Danes.

From the landward side the siege guns added their weight, pounding the defences before them, while the rockets shrieked out from their launchers, inscribing a flaring parabola across the night sky before they fell inside the city and exploded with bright flashes that brought cheers from the ranks of the excited British soldiers who had gathered to watch the spectacle. Some fires began to start where the rockets had landed and wavering orange flames steadily spread across expanses of the city as the night drew on. Only as the first glimmer of dawn appeared did the fire begin to slacken as the British warships made sail and withdrew out of range of the remaining Danish guns. As the light strengthened and Arthur trained his spyglass on the city his heart sank at the sight of the shattered roofs and the clouds of smoke billowing up from the fires that still raged.

The bombardment continued for the following two nights, increasing in intensity. Once the initial exuberance of the first night had worn off the redcoats watched the terrible pounding in awed silence, their faces dimly lit by the distant glow of flames and the sudden flare of explosions as they witnessed the death of a great city. Then, on the morning after the terrible destruction of the third night, General Peymann sent a message to Lord Cathcart offering to surrender both Copenhagen and the fleet. A treaty was signed two days later and the garrison laid down its arms and opened the city to the victors.

When Arthur inspected the town he was horrified to see the damage that had been inflicted.Wide stretches of ground were little more than charred ruins and most buildings had been damaged by round shot that had carried away chimneys, smashed through roofs and walls and left the streets littered with debris. Then there were the bodies. In places they had been laid out neatly and covered with blankets. There had been little time to bury them as the citizens had struggled to fight the fires and find shelter for themselves and their families. But there were still hundreds sprawled in the street or buried in the ruins and the air was thick with the sickly sweet smell of corpses rotting in the heat of the late summer.

By the terms of the treaty the Danes gave up their fleet, together with those naval stores and supplies that had survived the bombardment. In return Britain agreed to quit Copenhagen as soon as the troops could be embarked. Over the following days the heavy guns were carefully loaded back on board their transports and then the infantry battalions followed suit. Arthur’s brigade was the last to go aboard the final squadron of warships that lay at anchor in the harbour. He had received reports that a French corps was on the march towards Copenhagen and the leading elements were already little more than a day’s march from the city.While the other battalions waited on the quay to be rowed out to the warships Arthur took command of the rearguard and positioned them in a cordon around the dock area.

The streets were eerily silent as the Danish inhabitants hid away, bolting their doors and shuttering their windows before retreating further inside to pray for their deliverance. Arthur stood in the tower of the customs house resting his telescope on the back of a chair as he fixed his attention on a French cavalry patrol that had appeared on a low rise inland that overlooked the capital. Well, let them look, he mused to himself. They were already too late. The Danish fleet had weighed anchor and was already on its way across the North Sea to Britain. Eighteen ships of the line together with twelve frigates. Those ships undergoing repairs in the dry docks had been fired a few days earlier and only the skeletal remains of their great timbers remained.

He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw General Stewart climbing into the tower behind him.

‘How is the loading proceeding?’

‘Almost done with the first battalion, sir.’ Stewart saluted.‘The second should be aboard within an hour or so.Then it’s just the rearguard.’

‘Very well. I shall be glad when we have quit this place.’

Stewart nodded.‘I am sure that some in Britain will say that this was not our finest hour.’

‘That is true. However, we must let them say what they like as long as they leave the soldiering to us.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Right then, time to be off.’ Arthur took a last look at the enemy cavalry scouts, and was about to collapse his spyglass when a new movement caught his eye. Just to one side of the enemy horsemen the head of a column of infantry had appeared and was already pouring down the far slope and marching towards Copenhagen as swiftly as they could. Arthur waited a moment longer so that he could ascertain their strength. When the first three battalions had crossed over the rise he snapped his glass shut and stood up stiffly. ‘We have company.’

Stewart scanned the horizon, saw what Arthur had seen and nodded. ‘They’ll reach the city within the hour.’

‘Yes,’ Arthur responded dully. ‘Best prepare for them. Have the rearguard occupy the buildings along the waterfront.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Stewart saluted and disappeared back down the stairs.Arthur stared at the French for a few minutes longer, gauging the pace of their advance.They were making good time and he felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realised they would reach the quay well before the last men of the brigade could quit the city.

‘This is going to take some careful timing,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Very careful timing.’

Down on the quayside, the last companies of the other battalions were being herded aboard the launches as Arthur emerged from the customs house. He marched along the quay making sure that his men were well placed to guard the approaches to the embarkation area.Time seemed to crawl as the boats rowed steadily to and fro between the ships and the waiting soldiers, and Arthur tried not to let himself fret at the time it took his men to climb aboard and take their seats on the thwarts before each small vessel was fended away and the oars dipped into the calm sea to power the boat to the waiting warships.

Then at last he heard the drums of the approaching French soldiers and almost at once the crackle of musketry as they ran into the first of the British outposts.The sound quickly increased in intensity as General Stewart came striding up to join him.

‘Now we’re in for it, sir.’

‘Yes, quite,’ Arthur replied absently as he tried to gauge the direction of the main thrust of the enemy. ‘Seems to be heaviest towards the left flank. As soon as the next boat reaches the quay pull back one company at a time from our right and have them embark as swiftly as possible. Have the Grenadier Company form up on the quay.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As the firing continued to the left, the battalion’s line began to shorten from the right as one company at a time withdrew and trotted along the quay and down the stone steps to the waiting boats. Arthur was glad to see that one of the warship captains had taken the initiative of placing two launches armed with carronades in the bows to cover the evacuation of the last troops. When there were only two companies left ashore, Arthur had one form up around the steps and then sent a runner to the flank company still holding the houses that covered the approaches to the quayside to order them to fall back. A short time later a handful of redcoats came trotting into sight, then some more, and finally the stragglers and wounded, with several men fighting a rearguard action as they fired and then retreated to new cover.