Swallowing Portugal Will Settle My Spanish Bellyache Page 17

  One of the gateways was rapidly unblocked and the Ordenança spilled out to round up the horses and lead them back behind the wall, then the stones and boulders were once more piled into the gap and everyone settled down to wait for the next move.

  It wasn’t long in coming. Three chasseurs, carrying a rag on a sword, signifying a flag of truce, approached cautiously. Gonçalves and Dodds scrambled over the piled boulders at the gateway and waited for them. A captain and two sergeants walked their horses closer and looked curiously at the two Hornets.

  The captain opened the negotiation. “I cannot think that you are part of the English or Portuguese army. My information is that they are all hiding away from Marshal Masséna in Lisbon. Shall you kindly identify yourselves?”

  Gonçalves smiled grimly. His french was good enough to understand everything said. “You are sadly misinformed on both counts, Monsieur le Capitaine. We are Portuguese and also part of the English Naval Brigade. I understand that you know us as the Frelons Bruns.”

  The chasseur’s expression showed that he was aware of the reputation of the Hornets, but Gonçalves allowed him no time to comment.

  “Our army is not hiding in Lisbon, it is rather Masséna who is on the defensive in Santarém with a starving army and we who intend to delay you long enough for one of Lord Wellington’s divisions to intercept you when you come out of the mountains.

  Now, is there anything more you wish to know before you go back to your commander and tell him to take his convoy back to Spain?”

  The captain already had as much information as he was going to get. Much of it he regarded as obviously misleading, but the seeds of doubt were there. Everybody had heard the rumours.

  “I shall report what you say, Capitaine. Meanwhile I require you not to molest my men when they come to recover the bodies of my dead and wounded.”

  “That is not possible, Capitaine. You forfeited the right to such military courtesy when your men executed the prisoners they captured two days ago.”

  “But they were only armed peasants who had no right to fire on us! We always execute civilians who bear arms against us.”

  “They were members of the Portuguese Ordenança, who are mobilised by the government whenever their country is invaded. As for being armed peasants., I warrant that half your army is made up of armed peasants who just happen to have been given a pretty uniform.”

  “That is different! They are Frenchmen and the best soldiers in the world!”

  “Ah I see. If they are French they are superior human beings and not just ignorant peasants with guns. Please tell your commander that if any more prisoners are executed, he will personally be held responsible and hanged when our forces capture this convoy.

  Now, I see I must make a concession. Examine those bodies on your way back to report. Any that are alive you may take with you. It shouldn’t take you long as I train my people to kill, not wound. You have fifteen minutes and then we shall kill you too if you are within range. Bear in mind that we are using rifles and your friends who are waiting are well within our range.”

  He turned on his heel. “Come on Dodds. I may shoot the pigs if we stay here any longer.”

  The next stage was fascinating to a military purist. The French convoy was guarded by four squadrons of cavalry, who were quite useless for what was now needed. This left them a choice between three battalions of voltigeurs and the bulk of the escort, which was a mixture of line infantry and chasseurs à pied, the hunters on foot.

  A battalion of voltigeurs must have been in the van, because suddenly a swarm of them advanced in skirmish order over the whole of the six hundred yard front.

  Whoever it was that made the decision could not have been a front line commander. They worked on the same principle as most skirmishers and indeed, the same basic pattern that the Hornets used in skirmishing.

  The difference was that they were trained to harass line infantry on the battlefield and they, obligingly, stood still in great numbers while the scattered voltigeurs fired into them without provoking a reply.

  A regiment of line infantry was a large target and a hundred Hornets behind a granite wall was only a hundred drab bonnets and two hundred baleful eyes. Moreover, a hundred of those baleful eyes had been armed and trained to pick off targets the size of a human head at a hundred yards and more.

  Although the voltigeurs used cover and fired from kneeling and prone positions, they had to reload through the muzzle of their muskets. It meant exposing much more of their body than the head and it provided almost unmissable targets for the marksmen behind the wall: marksmen who had a personal account to settle for the deaths of their countrymen before a French firing squad.

  In those circumstances, all the shots may not have been killing ones, but the converted muskets and rifles threw balls that were up to three-quarters of an inch across. Anyone hit by that size of ball had no further interest in the fight.

  In less than half an hour, two hundred wounded and dead littered the valley. The Hornets were untouched, hidden as they were behind the wall. The survivors had had quite enough and were relieved to lie low and wait for the heavy infantry to sweep round the bend, form an extended line and march in fast time towards the wall. Two thousand men in four ranks spread across the valley had to cover the one hundred and fifty yards as quickly as they could, hoping that the defenders would still be preoccupied with the skirmishers or would be panicked by the mass of men into running away.

  This was the point when Dodds gave the signal to his explosive teams. The column was now as compacted as it was likely to get and however many men the Hornets and Ordenança killed and wounded, the infantry would be swarming over the wall in the next thirty seconds.

  It was reasonable to assume; Dodds was thinking; that the Hornets shot three Frenchmen apiece during that short advance. The single, massive volley that Gonçalves orchestrated from two hundred Ordenança at thirty yards, staggered the leading men and might even have accounted for fifty more of them. However, there would still be fifteen hundred French soldiers scrambling over the wall in the next ten seconds.

  Gonçalves blew a long, shrill blast on his whistle and the Hornets and Ordenança abandoned their positions and sprinted back fifty yards to the second defensive wall. They were all in position with the Ordenança being readied for a final volley; the Hornets already starting to pick off targets within the fifty yard killing field; when five separate explosions announced the attempt to blow parts of the mountain down on the massed convoy below.

  The French were over the wall and milling about at a loss. They had lost a lot of men storming the wall and were denied the fruits of their efforts, as there was not an enemy in sight, only another cursed wall that was already starting to spit death at them.

  The Hornets were settled into position and shooting into the mass of soldiers, trying to pick out the officers and sergeants who were doing their best to gather their men together for a second assault.

  They massed and started to move forward together just as the Ordenança had been pushed and shoved into position to deliver their second volley. They had rejoiced at seeing their first volley destroy numbers of the enemy and were much steadier the second time, shooting into the enclosed space between the walls.

  Dodds saw the tentatively advancing mob stagger and many fall, then he had difficulty seeing anything through the thick clouds of powder smoke that hung in the air between the two defences. Much of the Hornets’ marksmanship now became pure guesswork.

  The Ordenança were released and fled immediately after their second volley. Most of them were on foot and they wanted to be lost in the hills before the French cavalry could be loosed.

  Once they had gone and without waiting to contest the second wall through the fog of gunpowder, Gonçalves whistled the disengagement and retreat.

  They rode off to their rendezvous with the explosive unit, with a net gain of twenty or more horses. The French were left in possession of an empty defence point, several hundred
bodies and damage yet to be assessed to the wagons, by several man-made avalanches.

  CHAPTER 14

  The great cabin of the Titan 74 was the venue for a second dinner party, with Hamish MacKay being entertained once more by Sir Charles Cockburn and Captain Guest.

  Their joint operations along the coast had resulted in the capture of four small fortified towns, or towns with keeps or forts. They stretched over a distance of nearly a hundred miles, mainly between Malaga and Almeria and were all being supplied with provisions and ammunition by ships from Cockburn’s squadron, based at Gibraltar.

  MacKay raised his glass in salute. “I hope you’ll nae be disappointed wi’ your decision tae make the garrisons o’ the captured towns more permanent. I ken that we were only thinking of twa or three weeks in support of General Freire and then withdrawing when Sebastiani chased him away again.

  It all comes down tae numbers in the end. I had a good look at the defences of each place and found that at three of them, the French shall hae tae find a lot of men tae take them back.”

  Cockburn raised his own glass in reply. “You’ve been taught by a master, Hamish. I learned never to argue with Joshua Welbeloved on anything to do with soldiering and am quite happy to pay him the compliment of trusting his deputy in similar matters.

  Your military logic is fascinating though, particularly to old sea dogs like Guest and me. Feel free to go over your numbers with us again, if only to see if they have changed in the week or so since you took the towns.”

  Considering all the warlike plans that Cockburn and Welbeloved had hatched during nearly a decade as a team, MacKay was always amused by the Commodore’s professed ignorance about military matters, but took it as an enormous compliment that he always trusted him completely to carry out any operation that he put forward as viable.

  Even when he modified his plans as he went along; in the saddle so to speak; Cockburn always agreed and encouraged him to keep his brain working. He concentrated on his numbers.

  “My patrols and contacts with the guerrilleros assure me that General Freire came frae the direction of Cartagena and Almeria with a Spanish army of ten thousand or thereabouts.

  Sebastiani, one of Soult’s generals, has been sent tae try and destroy this army. It is said that the French hae scraped together up tae ten thousand men frae various garrisons, thus seriously reducing the numbers Soult can use and the number of men that Marshal Victor has available tae lay siege tae Cadiz.

  I am satisfied that Freire shall nae stand up tae Sebastiani in a straight fight and shall take his army back intae the hills, after a brief scuffle.

  The twa towns farthest west were taken with the intent of reducing Sebastiani’s forces by a thousand for each town while he spent time taking them back. This would ease the pressure on Freire, although, tae be fair, a thousand men would be neither here nor there as far as that outcome is concerned.

  Then I looked at the defences and found that they could be strengthened without too much difficulty. It shall enable five hundred marines in each town tae stand off twa thousand French for as long as their supplies last. The navy shall doubtless keep those coming?

  Lastly, I’ve put twa platoons of my men intae each of the twa strongholds and warned the marine majors in command tae treat any suggestions they make as if they came directly frae you, Sir Charles.

  We’ve been working tae improve the marksmanship of the marines and after only twa weeks I guarantee it shall need many more than three thousand Frenchmen tae carry either fort. If we can convince the French of that, it should help Freire tae tarry for longer in the region, but more important, Sebastiani shall nae be able tae send any men back tae help Marshal Soult.”

  Cockburn grinned. “Pray use my name whenever it shall serve, but do remember that the marines are most touchy about their prerogatives. Once on shore they tend to overlook instructions from mere sailors.”

  MacKay smiled, but there was little humour to be seen. “Dae remember, Sir Charles, I am still a marine. The twa majors in question hae nae doubt who gave them their orders. We Scots are nae noted for our tact, but I did use your name tae remind them gently that they have tae forget that they were both senior tae me only a few months ago.”

  John Guest snorted with amusement. “I do remember you, Hamish, as a mild, almost shy, respectful marine. How could I have been so mistaken?”

  MacKay looked thoughtful. “I dae try tae be mild and respectful at all times, John, but ye would nae want me tae give the wrong impression tae men who hae tae make the right decisions when the Frogs come out tae play?”

  ***

  Major Jameson may indeed have had cause for resentment. He was an experienced officer who had seen service at the siege of Acre and at the landings at Aboukir, three years later, when the French had been expelled from Egypt.

  Any men he commanded were good marines. They were drilled to perfection to fight in all the ways that a marine was expected to engage the enemy: as soldiers on board ship and as infantry when sent ashore.

  Pipe clay and polish were part of that life on board ship and he expected his men to be perfectly turned out and drilled for all eventualities. In naval actions, marksmanship was of greater importance than the mechanical volley firing of a regiment of the line, but only so far as to aim their muskets at individuals on an enemy ship and pull the trigger.

  Fortunately he had been present to see something of Welbeloved’s early experiments in the Levant and had then been righteously scandalised that the small band of marines and sailors should be used as brigands, dressed in sailcloth slops.

  The successes attendant on Welbeloved’s brigands had justified those eccentric methods so that on this occasion, when he was working at first hand with the now legitimate, professional killers, he happily handed over his men for indoctrination by the Hornets and watched every move with fascination.

  The fascination extended not only to the intensive training in marksmanship that his marines were being put through, but the highly knowledgeable; professional was the true description; preparations they were undertaking to prepare for a siege.

  Lieutenant Colonel MacKay had promised that he would return from Gibraltar before the French got here, but if he didn’t, Jameson would not be concerned. The two Welshmen, Lieutenant Davies and his Sergeant Evans, known as ‘the voice’, had got their men teaching his marines things about their muskets that he would not have believed himself.

  They started by making every man fire five shots at a target, only twenty yards away and made a personal record of where the shots hit, compared with where they had been aimed. Next, they showed them how to use a plug coated with fine sand on the end of their ramrods to polish the bore of their muskets.

  Every musket ball in the armoury was then passed through a gauge that was said to be 0.74 inches in diameter. One in ten of these balls proved acceptable and the rest were melted down and recast in scissor moulds that they had fabricated somehow. It was a vast undertaking as there were two hundred cartridges for every man and he had five hundred men. It did serve to emphasise the incredible dedication the Hornets brought to their trade.

  The improvement in their shooting was almost unbelievable, even for the one in five who would never be more than passable. Target practice now started in earnest and an indent was sent back to Gibraltar for another fifty thousand cartridges.

  The arsenal at Gibraltar must have wondered whether a new war had started, when it received a similar request from the garrison where Captain Cholmondeley was in charge of the training, but the requests were both endorsed by Commodore Cockburn and despatched within a week.

  Jameson’s fascination was stimulated even more by the Ulsterman, Sergeant Major Ryan, who took the trouble to apologise to him, personally, for being too busy to attempt the training of any of his men in the use of the wicked-looking knives that all the Hornets carried.

  The major could not imagine what Ryan and his men were up to outside the walls, about a hundred yards away on the nea
rest cliff. They were very preoccupied with picks, shovels and mysterious bundles, right up to the time when MacKay reappeared, followed a day later by the first French patrols.

  These were only a few troops of questing chasseurs who were ambushed quite effectively by 1 and 2 Platoons of B Company, the few not killed being chased away by the still mounted 3 and 4 Platoons.

  Captain Addenbrooke reported in to MacKay that Freire and his army were retreating slowly and that the French and Spanish armies were presently fifteen miles apart. The escaping chasseurs would doubtless bring reinforcements looking for revenge.

  He was told to take two of his platoons and seek out Freire to tell him of the distraction planned for Sebastiani by the garrisons of both towns. MacKay did not think Freire would take much account of a few men holed up in a couple of forts, but at least he would know that Sebastiani would have things on his mind other than Freire and his Spaniards.

  A dozen of the most experienced marines joined the Hornets as a welcoming committee for the vanguard troops of the French infantry. They retreated slowly down into and through the small town, picking off French grenadiers until they were able to slip through the castle gate, leaving the French without many of their men and settling down to make themselves comfortable in the town for a siege.

  Once safely inside, the marines were allowed to practice their newly acquired marksmanship skills on any Frenchman incautious enough to leave the shelter of the town buildings.

  The small fortress on the rocky spur was higher than most of the houses except for the ones built on the road leading into and out of the town, across on the far side of the bay. Those houses were too far away from the fort to be considered even as a site for the batteries of guns that would be needed for breeching the walls. They would have to be placed much closer to have any chance of success.

  The road, however, was within extreme range of the two four pounders that had been captured when the fort was taken. A couple of gun teams formed from the marines, amused themselves by sending canisters of grape shot spraying among the enemy units marching down to complete the investment.