Black Hole In Ocean



Black Hole In Ocean

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The first of the three French frigates were in sight. She had already turned into her own channel and there was no hope of escaping her; they were too far apart, but at least she would not be a threat to England, for now; and he could watch her without fear of being seen, and perhaps get some idea what it was that she was about.

He knew from what he had heard of their tactics that she must go straight to Brest, with or without convoy, so as soon as he saw her start on her course he put the helm down and brought the ship around, and made towards her in an easy fashion.

She was a good two leagues distant when he sighted her; a great, heavy-looking frigate by the look of her, one which had been built as a privateer at some time in her career and which, if he judged right, was probably carrying the flag of Commodore Dupetit.

He did not like her looks one bit; nor did his crew. They had seen enough of privateers and slavers to know what they were like by this time. But it seemed to him that she would make rather a nice prize, so he kept up with her, though she showed no inclination to shorten sail, and presently the wind died away altogether and they drifted alongside each other.

“Mr. Hornblower,” said Bellingham, “I think you can give us orders now.”

“Aye aye, sir.” He went out on the deck and stood on the taffrail gazing down into the dark water, where the moonlight was reflected until it seemed to him that it looked very much like a black hole. “Mr. Parker,” he said, “how is our topgallant shrouds set?”

“As ordered, sir.”

“All right, then, I think we shall take her off by main force. Mr. Bellingham, you had better go and tell Mr. Dacre and Mr. Smith to stand by for action.”

“Very good, sir.” The bosun went below.

There was a sudden cheer from the men; all hands knew something was about to happen. He looked over his shoulder and saw that he was alone with the captain: there was a curious feeling in the air.

The ship came alongside the frigate’s side and he gave orders for her topsails to be lowered and hoisted again; the Frenchmen on board watched them with interest, wondering whether she was going to be captured or not. Then his own topsail yard was run across to their yards, and the Frenchman began to haul hard to draw away from him.

He felt that now was the moment to press home his advantage, but instead of giving any further orders, he let them do their work and waited. It did not seem that the Frenchmen had any idea of taking him aboard; it was obvious that they did not care one way or another either way.

They were just making ready to abandon her; and in a few minutes, he had the masts, the rigging, and the whole superstructure of the frigate taken clear of her.

By the time he had finished, there was nothing left of her but the sternpost; even her nameplate was gone.

He turned around and saw that the frigate was drawing away from him once more. He was not really surprised to see this; she had only a skeleton crew on board anyway and they would have been anxious to be under weigh before the morning, but he wondered why the captain should allow himself to be drawn away. Perhaps he did not want the frigate to become stranded in the Channel?

But he was not to find out because in a moment they were both drifting downwind of each other and out of sight.

“We’ve got her, sir,” said Bellingham when he was back on the quarterdeck, for he had not heard the last of it. “Her name was Général Laporte.”

“Did you see if she had any prizes on board?”

“Yes, sir. No prisoners, but they’ve lost a lot of stores, and there are a lot of empty casks. I don’t know how many she had, but at least six.”

It was certainly a fine haul; but what was he to do with it? There was no one to whom he could hand it over.

“That’s all very well,” said Dacre, “but what will we do with it ourselves? I’m sure it’s not for me.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Hornblower. “I wish I knew whether we ought to be glad or sorry that this man Laporte has gone. I suppose we must feel happy about that.”

“Glad! Why? What do you mean?”

“You remember what we saw when we first arrived here—the French privateers that were sailing along close to shore? Well, the reason why those privateers didn’t go out to sea was that they were frightened of being captured by our ships. That may mean that the French has lost some of their courage.”

“Well, that’s just what we wanted, Mr. Dacre,” said Bellingham. “It’s all very well having a war with France, but we can’t fight without our own people’s backing. If we had lost the support of England, then what would we have done?”

“What do you say, sir?”

“I think that Mr. Parker and Mr. Smith are going to have a lot of hard work ahead of them. We must make up our minds as soon as possible whether we shall carry this cargo to Britain or not.”

“Mr. Parker won’t object, will he, sir?”

“No; he won’t, but he’ll insist on doing his duty. I suppose I’ll have to ask him to report to Admiral Hood so that he can get instructions. But what do you say, Mr. Smith?”

“Well, sir, I’d advise taking it to Britain. It might help to save us some trouble and a bit of money if we had it there.”

“Do you suppose that is what the Admiralty will suggest, Mr. Smith?”

“Oh yes, sir. As far as I know, they always take into account the cost of shipping, but I expect we’ll be able to persuade them otherwise.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then we must look after ourselves, that’s all, and keep it for our own use. But that won’t happen if we have it in the wrong place.”

“So you don’t agree with Mr. Parker?”

“I wouldn’t like to say anything definite, sir. But I should have thought, in the circumstances, that it was worth taking it to Britain and trying to sell it ourselves.”

“Yes—we must try—and let Hood deal with it.”

***

HOOD’S DESIRE TO SEE THE FOREIGN MASTERS OF LONDON AND SHEFFIELD HAD A TEMPORARY IMPACT ON HIS OWN COMMITMENTS. The two British frigates and the three Indiamen had been sent to Portsmouth, and so had the two French ships-of-war—though neither of them would ever have made the rendezvous in the Channel had they known beforehand that they had been ordered to join the convoy.

As the convoy passed into the North Sea it began to grow steadily heavier; it took longer and longer for each ship to pass through the narrow channels between the islands. They had not much chance now of keeping up a steady passage; they were obliged to slow down, and it often meant waiting until they had got the wind on the quarter before they could sail again.

The convoy passed through the gap in the Dutch coast into the Kattegat.

Here, though, a great deal more traffic than usual was to be seen: there was a constant stream of merchant vessels from Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Poland, and even Russia, making their way across to the Baltic, while the Royal Navy also kept its boats busy patrolling round the islands in search of any French warships that might be lurking nearby.

They passed close to Korsakov, an island where a considerable fleet lay in winter quarters; and it seemed strange that so near at hand should be a whole group of armed ships lying ready to spring into action.

Yet there had been no time to build a new squadron since Napoleon had come back into power, so the navy of Europe was left with a skeleton force—a force that could be called upon only under extreme necessity.

When the convoy reached the mouth of the Elbe it turned north and passed down the long estuary into the Baltic, past Stockholm, through the Sound, and out onto the wide expanse of water where the Danish fleet was stationed. There they were joined by several Russian frigates who came up the coast from Helsingfors.

Admiral Hood knew the coast well and was anxious to reach Gothenburg without delay. On the other hand, he did not wish to run straight into the Swedish squadron, which he had heard might lie waiting for him.

He, therefore, decided to sail southwards, out of sight of land, keeping within easy gunshot of one or more of the Danish gunboats that guarded the entrance to the sound. He felt sure that he could hold his own against such a force, and was right in so thinking.

The Danes were in the habit of taking a good deal of care in guarding their ships, and the British frigates and Indiamen easily drove off every attempt that was made to board them.

In the course of his cruise, Hood was able to discover the location of several enemy ships, some of which belonged to Denmark, and others to Sweden.

His men were allowed to capture them with few objections—indeed, in one case a Swedish frigate opened fire on Hood’s flagship as it was about to sink a Swedish ship-of-war, and then fled when it became evident that she could not hope to escape with her prizes.

Hood’s main concern now was to find the Swedish squadron and see whether it really did lie waiting for him, and, if so, how many of the enemy he might be likely to fight at once. In this, he succeeded better than he had dared to hope.

The Swedish squadron had been anchored in the bay of Osterfors, not far from the town of Vaxholm. It consisted of five ships of the line, two frigates, and four or five gunboats. The Swedes had evidently taken little interest in their safety: the gunboats had been lying at anchor in the outer harbor and the frigates and the two larger ships of the line were anchored in the inner one.

Only the most careful watch had been kept on them.

At first, Hood thought that these vessels would be sufficient to meet the threat he was expected to bring against them—but as soon as he saw the squadron he changed his mind.

He could count on no more than a single broadside from either side of the Swedish line, while his own was capable of dealing with two or even three guns in a volley—at least so he believed; the real test would be the encounter.

It was clear at once that his fears were justified. The British frigates sailed around to the attack, the Indiamen following them closely enough to be able to take any part of the Swedish squadron that might be trying to escape.

The Swedes opened fire almost immediately, but the range was too short for them to do serious damage. One of the Indiamen struck; the crew managed to save themselves from being overwhelmed and were saved with no loss of life.

Then the whole English squadron came together and swept around at the same moment. Hood’s captains had studied the movements of the Swedish ships and had prepared their maneuvers carefully in advance so that they could be executed with consummate skill.

At the head of the foremost division was Sir Hyde Parker’s flagship, King George V; followed by Hood, the Earl of Caithness, and the Duke of Clarence. They closed rapidly, cutting across each other like blades. The leading ships fired a double broadside; one after the other the next pair went into action.

The Swedes’ guns had hardly ceased firing before there was a cry of “Surrender!” The French frigate had given way and the Danish ship-of-war that had been trying to escape along with her was also driven on shore.

But another Danish ship-of-the-line was still afloat, although she had lost both masts and much of her rigging. She was in danger of going to pieces any minute, and Hood had orders to seize her as soon as she had been put out of commission.

He ordered all hands to be brought aboard and secured, as well as the captain, who had not been taken, prisoners. He sent the rest of the crew into the town, promising them protection should they be pursued.

Then he took possession of the prize himself and gave the order for her to be set on fire. She was already half sunk by the time the order came back: some of her cargo, particularly a quantity of salt meat, must be saved from the flames.

It was carried on board a British merchantman and carried off to Gothenburg as the prize. Hood did not hesitate to take command of it and to send a messenger ashore to inform the admiral that he had found and captured his first prize.

***

Hood returned to Kronstadt feeling very pleased with himself. He had seized his first prizes, and he knew that the Swedes were not likely to interfere with him again. The news of his success was quickly conveyed to London; it was received with great excitement in Whitehall and in every naval port throughout Britain.

When Queen Victoria heard that one of the largest and finest Swedish ships of the line had been captured without opposition she exclaimed: “Why did not we know of this sooner? If Hood had arrived earlier I have no doubt that he would have taken Russia.”

There is no doubt at all that if Hood had been present in time he would certainly have made the Russians pay dearly for the victory he had won. And yet he was not to arrive at Kronstadt until the last week in February. It was not because the weather had prevented him.

In fact, it had been very good during the days when his fleet had passed through the Straits of Kerch, and there would probably have been nothing to hinder him. But Hood could never resist an excuse for the delay—not only was his reputation at stake but his pride was offended that his success should be attributed solely to Lord Collingwood and himself.

He, therefore, waited until the ice became solid on the northern seas and then proceeded southwards again, accompanied by Admiral Collingwood.

They left Kronstadt in mid-February. There was little sign of winter now. The sea was calm, and it was clear that spring was approaching at once. The sun shone brightly over the horizon and lighted up the snow-covered trees; even the bare branches showed a tinge of green here and there.

The Russian ports were quiet; it was a time when the men on shore had long since gone home for the summer holidays; those few who remained in the towns had gone away, leaving the sailors to spend their time in idle idleness.

The Russian admirals, who were anxious to keep the enemy’s attention focused on the Baltic, had withdrawn to their winter quarters. But they were still watching what the Swedes did; the Swede Karl Johan von Holstein, whose fleet had been defeated at Eckernförde, had escaped to Russia with a small body of troops.

He was still in the country, and the Russians feared that he was gathering his forces and preparing to launch a new offensive against Sweden. The two Swedish fleets that had recently appeared off Pomerania might also prove troublesome, and it was important not only to keep watch on them but also to prevent them from getting too close to each other so that the Russians could concentrate all their force on one of them while letting the other pass by.

In fact, the Russians were able to do exactly that. As soon as Hood and Collingwood entered the Gulf of Finland they saw that the situation was more favorable than they had thought possible: they were met by the Russians as though they had been expecting them and were allowed to sail unhindered to Kronstadt.

Kronstadt was not quite deserted. A few officers remained behind to supervise the defenses, including the commander of the navy yard. But as soon as it was clear that Hood was coming, he left the place as fast as possible.

It is said that he went on foot, dressed in civilian clothes, accompanied by a small party of his own marines. They reached Moscow by late March and there the admiral remained for ten days, waiting for the arrival of the rest of his fleet.

Admiral Hood was now in command of twenty-four ships of the line and three frigates. His main opponent was Vice Admiral Sir George Cockburn, who was still in command of fourteen ships of the line and four frigates. The two forces met at Königsberg in the middle of April and exchanged a series of vigorous cannonade duels before finally separating to make way for each other.

Both sides watched each other warily for a while, waiting for the other to break cover; then, one of them suddenly opened fire, at which point both fleets immediately opened fire. Both sides took severe losses.

It was a hard fight, and although the British lost seven ships of the line and a frigate, they had greater superiority in men and guns. Hood’s men had no option but to surrender after two days of fighting; Cockburn was forced to retreat to Kronstadt where he was kept under close guard while negotiations continued.

At that stage, the Russians were still hoping that the British would accept their terms of peace and withdraw from the Baltic. They wanted to avoid any confrontation between their fleet and the British.

But the British commander insisted on going through with a further exchange of cannonade duels, and then a third one, after which he gave orders to his flag officer to hoist his colors. The British were defeated, but they refused to abandon their ships or their flag; instead, they made ready to defend themselves to the last man.

And so it was that Admiral Hood’s fleet was captured by the Russians and taken into captivity at Kronstadt.

The first thing Admiral Hood did when he was taken prisoner was to order that every officer should be given a copy of The Times newspaper, which was then published in England. It contained an account of the battle at Eckernförde and a description of how the Swedish king Gustav Adolf had escaped from prison to save himself from being executed as a traitor.

It was the same news that Hood’s son had brought with him to Russia and had shown to his father when they met again after his escape. The admiral had been unable to read Russian, so it meant nothing to him. And yet the paper was very precious to him; in his mind, it was evidence of his son’s concern for his safety.

On board Hood’s flagship, the Duke of York, there had been a large number of young naval cadets, who were now sent down below to the lower decks, while the senior midshipmen were called up on deck to take charge of the new prisoners.

They numbered more than a hundred in all, including thirty-three midshipmen and twelve masters’ mates. One of them was a midshipman called John Watson, who was just about to join Collingwood’s squadron off Danzig.

He had never seen his parents since his father died during the war, and here they were, waiting to greet him, having come from Scotland and from Ireland to see him. He felt a mixture of sadness and joy.

There is a story to this effect. Watson was ordered to stand at ease, and he saluted. ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ he replied.

One of the officers said: ‘Well done, Mr. Watson, I am pleased with your behavior.’

Watson turned around to look back at the admiral and the first officer. They were both smiling; they knew exactly what he was feeling. He saluted again.

After the capture of the English squadron at the mouth of the Gulf of Finland, Admiral Cockburn was sent back to Kronstadt under guard, while the prisoners were transferred on to the Swedish brig Vasa. This was now the ship of Captain John Watson, and it was only later that he found out that it was the same ship that his father had commanded.

It was a long time before the admiral could find out whether the Russian tsar was willing to negotiate a settlement. Meanwhile, he remained under lock and key in the town jail.

When the Tsar came to visit him and told him that if he wished, he could leave the country immediately and return home, Hood asked him why he had not done so when he had the chance. The tsar said that he had no desire to offend the English people by allowing such an important man as an admiral to go free.

And Hood told him that it was a mistake that no one could ever be permitted to make twice. He was not allowed to sail from Kronstadt until three months later when the Russian navy began to move away from its position around Danzig and slowly withdrew from the Baltic.

Admiral Hood had spent four years in Russian captivity, and he had been held in solitary confinement for the whole period. It was a hard experience, and it affected his health for many years afterward. But it did not stop him from returning to the sea and commanding another twenty-five successful campaigns.

He died at sea while leading an expedition to attack Cadiz in 1782.

The End

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