‘I will,’ Arthur replied. ‘I promise. God save you, Henry, and you, William.’
When they had left Arthur turned to Kitty, who had been quiet all night. ‘Are you all right, my dear?’
‘I am fine. Quite fine,’ she replied.
‘Really?’ Arthur looked at her closely. ‘You are not sickening for anything?’
‘No. I said I am fine, thank you.’
‘Then why the long face?’
She looked up at him and now he could see the tears gleaming in the corners of her eyes. Her lips were trembling when she spoke. ‘You are going off to war again. I don’t know when you may return, if you return. So far fortune has spared you and sent you home to me in one piece. But can that last, Arthur? One day, a French bullet will find your heart, or a sickness will strike you down. Then I will be left a widow and your children will grow up hardly having known a father. And you ask how I feel?’
Before Arthur could summon a reply she had risen and hurried from the room, leaving her husband and brother-in-law staring after her in surprise.
‘Bless my soul,’ Richard muttered.
‘I’ll speak to her later. Put her mind at rest.’ Arthur poured himself another glass of wine and stared into its red depths.The room was silent for a while before Richard spoke again.
‘Your mood has changed.What are you thinking?’
‘Hm?’ Arthur stirred and looked at his brother. ‘Oh, it just struck me that I have not faced the French since I was in Flanders, fifteen years ago. They were good then, and I dare say that with all the experience Bonaparte has given them they will be even more formidable. They have humbled every army in Europe, except our own. In addition, they outnumber our men overwhelmingly. It is quite a daunting prospect.’
Richard looked at his brother searchingly. ‘Do you think you can beat them?’
‘I think so. They have faced armies who were already unnerved by the prospect of fighting French soldiers. It is my belief that our men are made of tougher stuff. They are better trained, better led in most respects, and, above all, they have self-confidence. If the French manoeuvre against us in columns, as I have heard they always do, then I believe that our men, in line, will be steady enough to carry the day.’ Arthur took a sip from his glass. ‘If I am wrong then they will bury my cold body in some ditch in Portugal, and you will soon be learning the Marseillaise.’
Chapter 43
Mondego Bay, Portugal, 30 July 1808
The British fleet lay heaved to off the coast. In addition to the transports there was a squadron of warships assigned to protect Arthur’s force. His strength had been increased by a further five thousand men under the command of Major-General Sir Brent Spencer, following further intelligence that Junot had up to twenty thousand men in his army. In the days before the transports had arrived off the coast of Portugal Arthur had been cruising along the coast looking for a place to land his soldiers so that they could march on Lisbon.A landing at the Portuguese capital itself was out of the question. The mouth of the Tagus was covered by a number of strong forts which commanded the approaches to the harbour. In addition, the British had discovered a squadron of eight Russian warships at anchor off Lisbon. With the treaty between France and Russia still in effect the Russian squadron presented a possible danger and was best avoided, Arthur decided. Sailing north along the coast from Lisbon it soon became clear that there were very few places suitable for landing his army.
Mondego Bay itself was covered by a centuries-old fort constructed from a pale yellow stone, and the British fleet was about to move on when a small boat put out from the shore and made directly for the British warships. On board was the excited representative of a group of students from Coimbra University. In broken English he explained that they had seized the fort from the small French garrison that had been posted there by General Junot.
‘How long ago?’
‘Two days.’ The student grinned. ‘Two days before, we kick them out.’
‘Kicked them out? You let them go?’
‘Yes!’ The student nodded. ‘They run like dogs with tails between legs.’
‘Then they will have had time to report the loss of the fort,’ Arthur mused. He turned to Admiral Cotton, the commander of the naval squadron. Cotton was a senior officer of long experience who approached his duty with caution. ‘We have to ensure that the army is ashore before the French can retake the fort.’
Cotton looked surprised and gestured towards the shore, where a wide expanse of rough-looking surf pounded the sand.‘It is not a good place to land your army, Sir Arthur.The conditions are too difficult, too dangerous.’
‘We’ll land here,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘We have already sailed a hundred miles up the coast from Lisbon searching for a suitable place. We cannot afford to keep looking or we will put too great a distance between us and our goal.We land here. Now, I would be grateful if you would send ashore a hundred of your marines to reinforce our gallant student allies.’ Arthur patted the Portuguese youth on the shoulder and the latter beamed with pride as he puffed out his chest.
Admiral Cotton looked wearily at the student and shrugged his shoulders.‘As you wish. I will have our marines ashore within the hour.’
‘Thank you,Admiral. Let me know the moment we are in possession of the fort. Then we can begin disembarking our troops at once. In the meantime I propose to entertain our young guest in the wardroom, if you don’t mind?’
‘Not at all,’ Cotton grumbled. ‘Be my guest.’
Arthur led the student down the gangway and automatically ducked as they went below deck.There was a bump and a groan behind him as the student learned the first lesson of naval architecture.
‘Mind your head,’ Arthur muttered unhelpfully.
As the student drank eagerly from the decanter placed before him, Arthur questioned him about life under the French. The student’s cheerfulness faded as he told of the arrogance and cruelty of Bonaparte’s soldiers.They stripped the land of food and valuables as they passed and punished any attempt at resistance by the Portuguese people with wanton severity. Five days earlier, so the student said, a French patrol had been set upon by the townspeople of Évora when the French had attempted to take gold and silver plate from the local church. In return, the commander of the nearest French division, General Loison, had marched a column to Évora and killed every man, woman and child in the town. There was nothing left there but bodies and ghosts, the student said with scarcely suppressed rage.
As Arthur listened to him, and shared his anger at the horrors of war, he could not help feeling a measure of satisfaction that the French had, as ever, managed to turn the local population against them. Now Arthur could be sure that the Portuguese would welcome the British soldiers about to descend on their land. Of course, it was essential that every man in the army knew how vital it was to behave in a way that would retain the support and loyalty of the locals. He decided that it was time to issue his first General Order, so that the troops would understand that Portugal was a friendly country and no liberties were to be taken with the property or persons of the Portuguese.