Chapter 20: There ain't nuthin' like a Dane

Scott had explained to Gabrain and Lachlan why he had decided to mount this campaign from the sea.

"My friends, I don't want to see a single Scotsman perish if I can possibly avoid it. We have already shown the power of these ships and I'm confident they can destroy anything the Danes might send against us. We can even outrun their ships if we need to for any reason."

"But the Colonel's new rifles and artillery would still give us a massive advantage in a land battle Scott."

"Aye Gabrain, but with more of a possibility that our own men could be in harm's way. There are also two other reasons that occurred to me before I decided this was the approach to take."

"Okay Sire, what have we missed this time?" asked Lachlan.

"Not missed Lachlan, I'm sure you have both already thought about these two issues. The first is that there is still the possibility that this could all be a trap invented by Alfred. What if he has already entered into a treaty with the Danes and they are both intent on having Scotland as a prize? Remember, it wasn't very long ago that we were fighting Saxons to the death. Is it likely that they have changed their position so much in such a short time?"

"But why sail south at all then Scott?"

"My assessment is that we will need to deal with a threat from the Danes at some point. I deem it worth the risk. We can investigate whether the numbers of Danes has so alarmed the Saxons that they are looking for all the help they can get and are willing to promise anything to get it. At least approaching things this way we can safeguard ourselves from any treachery."

"What's the second issue that suggests a sea campaign is the better option?" asked Gabrain, as his sharp wits tried and failed to find the answer.

"Women and children my friends, women and children. If we were to fight the Danes on land and defeat them we would have to consider what to do with the women and children. Already Scotland is accommodating the Saxons displaced from Northumbria, and if the Colonel is successful in defeating the Danes there, we will have the surviving women and children to house and feed. I would rather that Alfred has the problem of dealing with the women and children of these Danes based in the south. The numbers would begin to swamp us otherwise."

His two friends saw the sense of what he was saying and realised Scotland did not need twenty thousand widows and orphans to cope with.

Scott had picked out Plymouth as his first target. His scouts estimated that there were several thousand Vikings based here, the craggy coastline a reminder of their native Denmark perhaps, and valuable shelter for their longships. Eighteen ships had been counted and Scott expected there to be eighteen less by the time his attack was complete.

As at Kirkwall he designated one ship as a look out and rear guard while the other three Carracks sailed past the great rock that almost closed off the entrance to Plymouth's natural harbour. Drake's island was on their right as they swung into the harbour proper and found the Danish ships spread out before them.

Scott had agreed the formation and firing rules with his captains, to ensure they did not accidentally fire on each other, and that would prove to have been time well spent given the cramped confines of the harbour. Realising just how tight navigation would be, he ordered his own captain to refrain from sailing in any further, trusting that two ships would be sufficient to cripple the Viking fleet.

He watched as the cannons on both of his ships began to belch fire and smoke, plumes of water and shattered timbers flying into the air all through the harbour. The longships were moored one to another because of the lack of space and this was making it too easy for Scott's ships to find their targets with almost every shot.

Scott heard cannon fire behind them and ordered the captain to take their ship back out into the Sound. By the time the captain had completed his manoeuvre Scott just had time to see two shattered longships sinking, their crews in the water and trying to make their way to land. It appeared as if his rearguard ship had caught two longships as they were heading into the harbour and had sunk both.

The remaining two Scots ships sailed out of the harbour, their job apparently complete and Scott was more than happy with this first encounter with the Danes.

The newt few weeks were a repetitive story of Scott's 'sea wolves' chasing and sinking Danish longships when they could find them at sea and of raids to sink any flotillas that could be identified at anchor. Pickings were starting to become slim and he ordered a move further east along this south coast, towards Exeter.

Careful navigation of a number of sandbanks was required at Exmouth. Scott also had to risk using his mortars from the ships to deal with some Vikings who were on foot, guarding the very narrow approach to the anchorage in the River Exe.

Once round the headland the broad river proved to be alive with Danish shipping and both banks lined with tents and camps. Scott quickly signalled for his ships to form pairs - nose to tail - and to sail the length of the river to bombard both shipping and the land forces that were in range. It was slow going and at times dangerous, as Viking ships tried to ram them. The metal plates fixed to the hulls of Scott's ships saved them from being holed and his crew used the falconets and some new hand grenades the Colonel had developed to discourage any boarders.

The four ships turned about at the point where the River Clyst flowed into the River Exe and they repeated their bombardment as they sailed back out to sea. By no means all of the Danish fleet had been destroyed, Scott estimated there had to be over one hundred ships here, but a large number had and the carnage along the shores was horrific too.

They steered a course back through the sandbanks and then Scott signalled his ships to remain on station to wait and see whether any of the Danes tried to make a break from the anchorage. The smoke and fumes from the constant cannon fire had left him with a splitting headache, but he accepted that as a very small price to pay for the damage they had inflicted. He looked up at the device on his mainsail and nodded grimly. He wondered whether he would need to replace the arrow that was stuck in the raven with something else - a cannon perhaps?

Some hours later almost forty Viking ships did come creeping out of the harbour and now the positioning of Scott's four ships allowed them to fire at the enemy as they were having to slow to navigate the sandbanks. The channels quickly became blocked with damaged and sinking longships and half of the Danes had to retreat back into the River Exe. Two ships did manage to win through into the open sea and Scott signalled one of his vessels to give chase and destroy them if possible.

He left one ship to maintain a vigil over the sandbanks, with orders to bombard any ship that tried to leave Exmouth, and then followed after the ship that had been pursuing the two escaped Danes.

Once more Scott patrolled the surrounding area for the next few weeks sinking any Viking ships he managed to find. He put some scouts ashore at the mid point of great Lyme Bay, keen to have news of how their success was affecting the struggle further inland and for any intelligence as to whether Alfred really was fighting the Danes.

His captains had all signalled to inform him that they were running out of food, powder and shot and he realised they would need to return to Dalriada to re-supply. Food could be foraged for, but powder and shot couldn't be manufactured out of thin air.

Scott stood at the prow of his ship as it sailed towards the beach to pick up his scouts. A lookout shouted a warning from the top of the mast and Scott swung his trusty binoculars up to his eyes. He swept the beach and picked out his scouts running for the sand, a large band of what looked like heavily armed Saxons chasing after them.

One man amidst the force stood out. He was slightly taller than the others and looked better dressed. His shaggy blonde hair blew in the wind and he had a bushy beard. A huge battle-axe was over one shoulder and a cloak billowed out behind him as he ran. Scott guessed that this must be Alfred himself.

He ordered his captain to sail in towards the beach and for men to man the falconet. The rope ladder was flung over the side and Scott's scouts climbed aboard as the falconet fired a warning shot at the pursuing Saxons, bringing them up short.

The man who Scott assumed was Alfred strode towards the water's edge on his own. Scott could see his face was grim, lined with the effects of fighting for his survival for many years perhaps. The man called out to the ship in old-fashioned English.

"Who are you and what is your business in this my Kingdom?" he demanded.

"I would have thought the device on my sails would have given some clue as to who I am. As for my business, I seem to be trying to save your Kingdom for you." replied Scott.

"You are the Norse-slayer? You have come to help me rid my lands of this pestilence?"

"Aye Alfred, but see you, this is no way to discuss matters. Come you aboard and we can talk rather than shout at each other in this unseemly fashion." Scott offered.

The Saxon considered this for a moment, staring at Scott and the ship as if he too was calculating whether he could afford to trust Scott. At last he came to a decision and waded out to climb the rope ladder up onto the foredeck.

"Well met cousin, I am Scott mac Fergus!"

The other obviously was still finding Scott's modern English quite difficult to understand, but the gist of what he had said must have registered. Although they were not related Scott had used the familiar 'cousin' in recognition that both were Kings and to indicate a degree of friendship between them.