Chapter 212 British Vs Swedes



The United Kingdom Baltic Fleet stood in the dark waters of the Øresund Strait. Its 12 ships of the line, imposing and bristling with cannons, were flanked by frigates, sleek and swift for scouting. Bomb vessels, capable of raining explosive shells on fortifications, clustered nearby. Vigilant sloops patrolled the perimeter.

The flagship, HMS London, led the formation, its towering masts adorned with the Union Jack fluttering in the breeze. Admiral Hyde Parker stood on the quarterdeck, his eyes fixed on the lighthouse that was aiming lights at them.

"Are they merely intent on bathing us in the light?" Parker mused aloud, The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

"Probably they are monitoring our movements. But one thing is certain, Admiral, we have lost the element of surprise. The Swedes are allied with the Danes in the defensive alliance and they are probably sending telegrams to their high commands," Otway observed.

Demott's brow furrowed as he absorbed the situation. "Swedes teaming up with the Danes means we're in for a fight on two fronts. If we head to Copenhagen, we'll be caught between them."

Parker pulled out his spyglass and peered through it, adjusting the focus to scrutinize the harbor of Helsingborg, illuminated by electric lights. His eyes narrowed as he observed the Swedes' ships of the line, neatly docked in the harbor. Movement on the decks caught his attention.

"I can see them, they're swarming their ships like bees around a hive," Parker remarked, his voice edged with concern.

Otway squinted toward the harbor, trying to discern the details. "Looks like they're crewing their ships, Admiral. Preparing for a battle, no doubt."

Parker lowered the spyglass and sighed. "Seems we won't have the luxury of catching them off guard. The Swedes are fully aware of our presence and they're getting ready to defend their waters. Well, might as well attack them since we are going to launch an attack on them anyways."

"Let's sink their ships before the Danes get here," Demott suggested.

"Right," Parker nodded, and then his voice boomed across the HMS London's deck. "Battle stations, everyone! Prepare to engage the enemy!"

Crew members scrambled into action, their training kicking in as they swiftly carried out their duties. Orders were barked, and the once-orderly deck became a flurry of coordinated chaos. Sailors manned the cannons, their faces lit by the dim glow of lanterns. The thud of boots against the wood and the clatter of metal echoed through the air.

"Steady on, lads! Load the guns, prepare for a broadside!"

The ship responded to the orders, the creaking of wood and the flutter of canvas accompanying the urgent rhythm of battle preparations. Across the fleet, similar scenes unfolded as the other ships fell into formation, positioning themselves for engagement.

Sailors rushed to tend to the damage, their hands moving swiftly to patch up the splintered hull. The British cannons roared once again, delivering another salvo at the oncoming Swedish ships. The water erupted into chaos as cannonballs splashed down, some hitting their targets with devastating accuracy.

As the smoke cleared, the result of the exchange became evident. The Swedish ships bore the scars of battle – some listing ominously, others with sails tattered and masts leaning precariously.

"Keep the pressure on, lads!" Parker shouted, his voice carrying across the deck. "We've got the advantage – let's show them what the Royal Navy is made of!"

The crew worked in a coordinated frenzy, reloading cannons and adjusting their aim. The battle raged on, with thick black smoke covering the British Fleet due to the intense gunfire.

The relentless exchange of cannon fire continued. Explosions echoed across the water as the British and Swedish ships traded blows, neither side willing to yield.

Minutes later, the Swedish ships of the line were now at their limits as flames engulfed their decks and smoke billowed into the sky. The once-proud vessels were reduced to floating infernos, their cannons silenced and their masts collapsing. The crackling of fire mingled with the groans of stressed timber as the Swedish ships began to list and take on water.

Parker's face remained resolute as he observed the scene unfolding before him. "Don't let up, lads! Finish them off!"

The British cannons roared once more, delivering a final, devastating volley to the beleaguered Swedish ships. The cannonballs found their marks, sending splinters and wreckage flying into the air. One by one, the burning hulks succumbed to the relentless assault, their flames smothered by the sea.

Cheers erupted from the crew of the HMS London as the last of the Swedish ships succumbed to the depths.

"Cease fire!" Parker's command cut through the cacophony, and the cannons fell silent. The once-roaring battlefield now echoed with the crackling of flames and the lapping of waves against the wreckage.

Parker turned to his officers, his expression one of weary satisfaction. "Well done, everyone. We've secured our position here. Now, let's assess the damage to our own ship and tend to our wounded."

The crew members exchanged looks of exhaustion, their faces smeared with soot and sweat.

Minutes later, Otway returned to Parker.

"Sir, we have suffered minimal damages on our port side but are still battle-worthy."

"Good, the Swedes won't be able to retaliate as most of their warships are docked in Stockholm. Continue to Copenhagen. It's time to face the Danes."

"Aye aye, captain."