Run Them Ashore (18 page)

Captain Hope’s day cabin was a good deal more crowded than when Williams had heard him explain the plan for the raid on Las Arenas. This time his role was secondary, and Lord Turney was at the heart of things.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ he began, nothing but enthusiasm rippling the surface of his calm confidence. ‘Many of you will have heard something of our enterprise, but until now its true nature had to be kept secret.’ The general spoke in English, and Williams found it strange that the colonel of the Toledo Regiment was absent, and a captain – presumably able to understand the language – was present in his stead.

‘We have two objectives,’ Lord Turney continued. ‘The first is to relieve the pressure on Cadiz. Although the city enjoys a formidable position it is far from impregnable, and so we must draw some of the besiegers away, reducing their numbers and thus their capacity to prosecute the siege with vigour. At the moment their batteries threaten almost all of the inner harbour and a good deal of the bay. We need to slow them down and press on with the strengthening of our own works.

‘The second intention is to foster the fighting spirit of the brave Spanish irregulars. We must keep alive the animosity of the peasants, by showing them that the war is not yet lost. If they do not despair and capitulate, then the irregulars, especially those in the mountains, are well placed and well able to harass the French as they bring supplies through the mountains to their forces outside Cadiz and along the coast.

‘Therefore our commanders have resolved to attack. Ours is the major part, but as we speak General Blake with the Spanish Army of the Centre is mounting an advance from Murcia. At the very least this threat will keep General Sebastiani and many of his troops too far away to respond to our descent upon the coast. The prize is Malaga, but we cannot strike directly, and so
instead we will land here,’ he pointed at the map spread out in front of him, ‘and take the castle near Fuengirola.’

Williams had to stand on his toes so that his head brushed the deck above in order to see over the press of officers. He and Hanley had traversed much of that country, but he found it hard to relate his memories to the map. Distances and the relationship of places appeared badly skewed. He doubted that there were good maps of the area, but could not help wondering why they had not asked Hanley to make one, for his friend was a talented artist.

‘Once we have that post in our hands, the French are bound to march against us with all their force, drawing off men from the garrisons throughout the region. Depending on circumstances, we may then re-embark, and perhaps even make a strike at Malaga. However, I do not propose definite plans for we cannot predict every contingency. Much depends on the enthusiasm of the peasantry. We are assured that they are ready to rise up, but I have heard such reports in the past and found many to be unfounded.’ He turned to one of the naval officers. ‘Captain Hall, will you be good enough to tell us of the most recent letters you carry from General Campbell at Gibraltar?’

‘A pleasure, my lord.’ Williams thought the sailor held differing views to the general. ‘We are assured of the weakness of the French garrisons along this coast and the patriotism of the peasants. They are ready to take up arms against the invader given the slightest encouragement. In addition, the batteries protecting the mole at Malaga itself have been stripped of guns – perhaps they want them for one of their outposts or even to besiege Cadiz.’ He paused, looking at the general for guidance.

‘Pray tell them of General Campbell’s suggestion,’ Lord Turney said, giving an easy smile. ‘It is better that everyone should know.’

‘Very good, my lord. General Campbell is convinced that this intelligence changes our understanding. There is a great opportunity for a
coup de main
, a sudden assault directly on Malaga without first mounting a diversion. With the mole stripped of its armament we can bombard the eastern side of the town, while
all of our boats carry marines and sailors to the mole and seize it. Such a success will surely spur the townsfolk to rise, and then the rest of the force can be landed to reinforce the town. That is the general’s plan, and I do believe it could work.’

‘If the guns have been removed from the mole and if the peasants rise.’ Lord Turney’s scepticism was obvious, even scornful. ‘And if I land my regiments outside the town I shall not only have to ford this river,’ the general tapped his finger on the map, ‘but march through this wide plain. We have no cavalry, gentlemen, not a single trooper, and that is cavalry country if ever I saw it.

‘I honour your confidence, Captain Hall, indeed I do, but the risk of a severe repulse is too great. These latest reports come from Major Sinclair, do they not? Yes, I understood it to be so. You have met the man, have you not, Williams? What is your opinion of his judgement?’

Surprised to be singled out, Williams felt uncomfortable as all eyes turned to him. ‘I have met Major Sinclair only briefly. He appeared a highly committed officer, but I do not feel that I can pass judgement on his abilities on so short an acquaintance.’

Lord Turney gave a wry smile. ‘That is scarcely a ringing endorsement. I have heard that the major is a great enthusiast. Is that not right?’

Williams’ discomfort increased. He had not cared much for the garrulous major, but did not want to blackguard a man behind his back without strong reason. However, no one could doubt the Irishman’s enthusiasm. ‘He is, my lord.’

‘Indeed, I suspect an enthusiast led astray by other enthusiasts, all reporting what they long to believe is true, rather than what their eyes tell them. Such things are understandable, but no basis for sound decisions.’

Hall glared at Williams. Clearly the naval officer was unconvinced, and the Welshman wondered whether he might not be right. The boldness of the raid on Las Arenas defied military logic and yet had succeeded.

Having swept the governor’s plan aside, Lord Turney resumed.
‘So, our first objective remains Fuengirola and its castle. It should not prove too formidable, but we will all benefit from an engineer’s assessment, if Captain Harding would be so good.’

‘Sohail Castle is a medieval fort, shaped like a distorted rectangle and high walled.’ The engineer looked at his notes. On the previous day he had asked Williams quite a few questions to add to the little information he possessed. ‘Possibly some cannon, although one of our sources claims the guns are more than two hundred years old so they may or may not still be sound. Garrison of less than a company. It is overlooked by higher ground some three to four hundred yards away, and if necessary a battery established there would be well placed to batter the wall.’

Lord Turney rubbed his hands, a curious gesture for a man who was so consciously elegant. ‘That should not prove at all formidable. Captain Harding did not mention that the garrison are from the Fourth Polish Regiment. Mercenaries, no less, so little reason for them to risk their lives.’ The captain in charge of the Chasseurs recruited from deserters and prisoners shifted uneasily, but Lord Turney either did not notice or did not care. ‘I doubt that they will fight, but if they do, then we can knock down those old walls and go in with the bayonet. We will have a brace of twelve-pounders, as well as a howitzer, and also the even heavier guns of the Navy.’

Williams doubted it would be so easy. From what he had seen, the castle was in good repair, and its walls were high. It would not withstand a formal siege, but then he doubted they would have time or leisure to mount one. It was hard to tell whether Harding was also concerned by the general’s dismissal of the obstacle presented by the castle, but the engineer said nothing.

He listened as Captain Mullins read out a list of the French troops in the wider area, and was baffled because he gave much lower estimates than the ones he and Hanley had received from the guerrilleros. Some of his confusion must have shown in his face.

Lord Turney waited for the brigade major to finish. ‘You have concerns, Mr Williams?’

Again the eyes turned on him. Some were sympathetic, while others resented the attention given to the most junior officer in the cabin.

‘Forgive me, my lord, but barely ten days ago Don Antonio Velasco and other partisan leaders supplied us with somewhat larger figures for the soldiers in these garrisons.’

‘More enthusiasts,’ the general said, ‘and no doubt equally well meaning, but not experienced soldiers. In most cases we can safely halve the numbers they report. And of course, nearly all of these troops are more foreign mercenaries.’

It was not his place, and no doubt ill mannered, but Williams found himself persisting. ‘I also believe the castle may prove more formidable. Its walls are high and would be difficult to escalade. In addition, I believe …’

‘I think we can leave such matters to the engineers,’ the general said in his best avuncular manner. Williams thought Hall looked pleased at his discomfort, and could not help wishing Major MacAndrews was here to raise further objections to such cavalier predictions of easy victory. Still, even if he were, the Scotsman was a major and Lord Turney a major general. His lordship was in command, and until now had shown talent for organisation.

‘Well, gentlemen, with Mr Williams’ permission’ – that was an unnecessary and ungraceful remark – ‘I believe we have concluded our business. We are running up the coast and will land tomorrow. For the moment, all I can add is good luck to you all, and good hunting!’

13

T
he trumpet sounded, the call insistent as the five notes were repeated.

‘Forward march!’ Officers repeated the orders all along the beach.

It was half past ten in the morning on Sunday, 14th October and Major General Lord Turney’s little army began its march on the castle. Williams was impressed by how smoothly the landing had gone, confirming his admiration for the Navy’s discipline and organisation. The Cala del Moral was a pretty inlet with a pretty name – the cove of the mulberry tree.
Topaze
and the transports were all anchored close inshore,
Rambler, Encounter
and the returned
Sparrowhawk
a little further out to sea, but their boats employed ferrying the cannon and gunners ashore. The naval gunboats were stationed all along the beach, their flat bottoms allowing them to go close in and cover the shore with their eighteen-pounders. If Frenchmen – or Poles – had appeared to oppose the landing, then they were ready to sweep the beach with canister or the heavier grapeshot.

No enemy appeared, so the boats went back and forth and the troops landed, forming up by company and regiment on the beach. In the lead were the 2/89th Foot, black facings on their red coats. They had spent much of the last year serving as additional marines to the Mediterranean fleet, and when Williams went with one of the first boats he saw that the soldiers looked more comfortable than most redcoats who found themselves afloat. A lot of the men were Irish, and they gave off the same cheerful confidence as men like Sergeant Murphy. One or two
of the older men even said they remembered when Lord Turney served in the regiment many years before. As the boats ran on to the sand, they sprang out and splashed ashore with a good deal of spirit.

The 89th were a good regiment, but there were few of them. This was the second battalion, depleted by constant drafts to the first battalion stationed far away in India, and only four weak companies had somehow ended up in Gibraltar and so been chosen for this expedition. A Major Grant was in charge, a thickset man with a face tanned to the colour of old leather from long service in the Indies.

Williams was less impressed with the Chasseurs – or the Foreign Recruits Battalion as they were called officially, though almost never in practice. He watched as the boats returned and brought the blue-uniformed foreign regiment ashore. They looked capable enough, moving with the confidence of old soldiers, but he could see no sign of animation. The men did a job and no more. With them came Lieutenant Hatch, his face pale, though that was more likely the consequence of drink than fear. The man disliked him, and if Williams could never quite fathom why, it had been hard over the years not to let his own distaste for the fellow grow in return.

‘Not murdered, Williams,’ Hatch drawled as he passed on the beach. ‘Those Spaniards should hire some of my rogues. Brandt here would kill anyone or anything for a couple of dollars, wouldn’t you, Brandt?’

A corporal with the innocent eyes of a child and the face of a brigand nodded. ‘One dollar, if it is a friend,’ he grunted in a thick accent. Williams could not tell whether he was German or Swiss – nor indeed whether the offer was to kill a friend or show generosity to one.

‘Take your riflemen and extend as pickets to the left of the Eighty-ninth,’ Williams said, not bothering to engage for there was so much to do. ‘Major Grant is up there, and will show you where to take post.’

As Hatch and his riflemen strolled away – there was no
impression of urgency about their movements – Williams wondered whether the scarred lieutenant had really hoped that he would come to harm, or had simply thought that assuming his name was amusing. Hatch noticed him watching, said something to the corporal, who spun round and dropped to one knee. Brandt raised his rifle, aiming at Williams, and held it there for a moment until Hatch patted him on the back. Half a dozen other chasseurs had stopped to watch, but all now moved off up the beach, laughing.

‘Cheerful rogues, though I cannot say I am easy around them. They look ready for any mischief.’ Harding had arrived to join him. ‘Any sign of the French?’

‘Not a whisker,’ Williams said, and that seemed strange. Sohail Castle was only a couple of miles away on the far side of a line of low, sandy hills. Yet they had seen no one – no civilian, and certainly no enemy soldier. He had been surprised at how easily the guerrilleros had moved across the country without detection, but it was hard to believe that the arrival of some one and a half thousand infantry could go unnoticed. ‘But that does not mean much save that they are half-decent soldiers. I suspect riders are carrying the news to Malaga and the other bigger posts even as we speak.’

By ten o’clock the three infantry regiments were formed up on the beach and Lord Turney issued a simple system of orders by bugle call – advance, halt, re-form and charge. Williams was again impressed by the general’s talent for getting things done. Issuing orders directly in English, Spanish, German, Polish, Italian and goodness knows what else was bound to be cumbersome. The general took the brigade through some simple manoeuvres along the sand using the trumpet calls and just a few basic orders. It worked well, at least as well as could be expected at such short notice, and even Hanley was impressed.

‘Seems so much simpler than our usual system,’ his friend said.

‘Quite, although I dare say it might be more difficult if you wanted one battalion to charge and another to re-form.’

Hanley took this in as if it were a great piece of wisdom. He
had arrived soon after the landing, bringing with him a number of partisans, none of whom Williams recognised.

‘No, you have not met any of these. El Blanco has promised to come and so have several other leaders.’ Hanley had not shaved for a day, perhaps two, and his always thick hair had sprouted into a heavy stubble. Lord Turney was not impressed.

‘You look like a damned gypsy,’ he said. ‘And who are these gentlemen?’

Hanley made introductions and passed on pledges of support from other leaders.

‘Not here, then?’ Lord Turney did not sound surprised, but he did bother to switch to Spanish and praise the men Hanley had with him. ‘Courage such as yours will drive the French for ever from your homeland,’ he said, and was greeted with a cheer.

When they finally moved off, two companies of the chasseurs formed a skirmish line, supported by the rest of the five hundred men from their corps acting as supports. Lord Turney rode at the head of the 2/89th, although most of his staff walked. There were a few dozen mules with powder and provisions and then the Toledo Regiment as rearguard. A quick inspection of the coast road along this stretch had revealed that it was unfit for the cannon.

‘Won’t do, my lord,’ Harding said after looking at the heavily rutted dirt track. ‘Might be fine if we had them on field carriages, but we could strain all day with these and not move them half a mile.’ The two twelve-pounders were on naval carriages, low off the ground and with four small wheels, while the howitzer was on a low base like a mortar, and needed a cart to move it.

With nothing else for it, the guns were re-embarked and would be carried round the headland and brought ashore again if necessary once the landing place was secure.

‘Won’t matter,’ Lord Turney announced, flicking his whip to knock a fly off the side of his bay’s head. ‘I doubt that we’ll need them at all, but even if we do we can bring them ashore easily enough. Get them back on board
Topaze
and ask Captain Hope
to bring the squadron up the coast as soon as he is able. Gunboats to lead, as arranged, so that they can support us.’

So they advanced, Williams walking with the general’s staff until he was needed, while Hanley took the partisans forward as scouts. The road was narrow, in truth little different from the sandy ground on either side, and as the sun rose to its height men sweated as they toiled up and down the rolling hills, the wind blowing sand into their eyes. The chasseurs straggled, and when Lord Turney saw parties of them leaving formation to rove inland he sent Mullins and Williams to chase them back.

‘Lord Turney wants every man with his company at all times,’ Williams told Hatch.

‘There are calls of nature,’ the lieutenant said, looking at Williams as if he were fussing over nothing. ‘Would you have us defecate in the path of the brigade? I expect some of these lads would if it gives you pleasure.’

‘Do that and you can clean it up, Lieutenant,’ Mullins shouted, having jogged up beside them. ‘Keep them together.’ He raised his voice. ‘Stay together, d’you hear! No stragglers and no one off foraging. You’re wearing blue and the locals won’t know you’re not with the French any more! Understand?’

The nearest chasseurs nodded, faces blank.

‘Doubt it will do much good,’ Mullins said to Williams as they walked back. ‘But we must do our best to stop them molesting the peasants. Don’t trust the buggers not to desert, but we have them with us and need them, so must make the best of it.’

At two o’clock in the afternoon they passed the tower of the old windmill and came over the last rise. Sohail Castle was beneath them, and there were men in blue jackets on its walls. For the first time they saw the enemy. The squadron were following, but none of the big ships had yet come round the headland. Only the gunboats were nearing the shore, and for the moment they waited out of range of any guns in the castle. Williams saw that each of the heavy boats – their shape was much like a cutter – had taken down its mast, ready to close in under oars. They were small vessels, low in the water and, apart from a sloped
‘dog-house’ where the officer could rest, there was no shelter and little space for provisions. He did not envy the men who had sailed them along the coast from Cadiz. Edward Pringle had told him that all sailors hated serving on such small craft unless they could go ashore at the end of each day.

Ten minutes later Williams, Mullins and a captain from the Toledo Regiment crossed the valley and walked up the rise towards the south wall of the castle. A private from the 89th carried a white flag. On the hill behind them, the brigade had spread out to show their numbers. If reports were right and there was no more than a company in the castle, then the Polish infantry were outnumbered ten to one.

Mullins made a long speech in French, but Williams paid little attention to the platitudes, intended to flatter the enemy so that they would not feel it dishonourable to surrender. Putting himself in their position, he could see no reason to give in. From up close the walls were dauntingly high and looked in very good condition. Near the corners he saw the barrels of two tiny cannon – two- or three-pounders perhaps, but still nasty little brutes to have firing canister at men running into the attack. From where they stood he could not see the heavier pieces, mounted in a shallow bastion projecting from the east wall and looking out to sea. For all their numbers the attackers had no ladders, nor any material to make some, which meant that they must knock a hole in the wall, and at the moment their only guns were afloat, facing the wall hardest to reach for attacking infantry.

Mullins finished with a flourish. ‘Therefore, in the hope of avoiding needless waste of life, we call upon you, as brave men to other brave men, to yield this fort and surrender. What is your answer?’

Several men looked down on them from the battlements. One, an officer from his cocked hat and epaulettes, had thick black side whiskers and a moustache drooping down past his chin. He had listened with evident impatience to the long appeal.

‘
Venez le prendre
,’ he called down in gruff dismissal and then turned away. The other defenders remained in sight, watching.

Mullins sighed. ‘He said “Come and take it.” ’

‘I know,’ Williams said, and it was obvious that the Spanish officer had also understood and showed no sign of surprise. ‘We might as well go, then, before we outstay our welcome.’

‘Yes, that would never do,’ Mullins replied. ‘It would be so terribly ill bred.’

When they climbed back up the hill the general did not display the slightest trace of disappointment. Nor did he appear to be in any great hurry. Officers were summoned from each of the three battalions, but it was a good half-hour before they arrived and Lord Turney was ready to issue orders. In the meantime he had shared a light lunch with his staff, and was dabbing his lips with a napkin as he spoke to Major Grant, and the commanders of the other corps.

‘Well, those fellows think they can hold us off. It will still be an hour or more before the bigger ships arrive and can bombard the castle, but the gunboats are ready and will surely suffice.

‘Tell the chasseurs to advance and engage the enemy on the wall. The Eighty-ninth to remain in line and support from the hillside. Toledo Regiment to wait in reserve. If the enemy waver, then we will press harder until they crack.’

Williams was unsure how men could press harder against high walls, but his thoughts were interrupted when an oddly high-pitched boom rumbled across the valley, followed an instant later by another. There was smoke shrouding the bastion on the east wall, and Williams just glimpsed the second ball throw up a fountain of water very near one of the gunboats. The boats must have begun to row inshore when they saw the flag of truce returning, and were now in clear sight of the castle.

‘Impudent fellows,’ Lord Turney said. ‘We must ensure they soon regret what they have started.’

As if in answer one of the gunboats disappeared from sight as the big eighteen-pounder in its bow belched fire and smoke. Williams wondered whether Captain Hall was in that boat
because it acted as a signal and the other gunboats all fired. Balls ploughed up earth near the foot of the castle wall and he saw one strike against the stone.

The general wanted to supervise the action from close by, not least because this was a situation stretching his four simple signals. In spite of his enthusiasm he kept his horse at a walk, leaning back in the saddle as he let it find its own best path down the slope. His staff followed behind.