As the student came to the end of his account, there was a knock and a marine entered the wardroom and saluted.
‘General, there’s a brig joining the fleet. They’ve signalled that they have an urgent despatch on board for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Arthur turned back to the student and poured them both a glass before proposing a toast.
‘To Portugal and Britain! Allies and sworn enemies of the Corsican tyrant.’
‘Yes.’The student nodded. ‘Death to the French!’
‘Yes,’ Arthur agreed. ‘Even that. Death to the French.’
Once he had escorted the student back on deck and seen to it that the youth made it safely back aboard his boat, Arthur turned and looked for the brig.The small ship had hove to astern of the admiral’s flagship and a small cutter was being lowered into the water. Four sailors took the oars and a midshipman climbed into the stern clutching a bag of despatches and letters. The small craft bobbed across the waves as the sailors rowed lustily, and a short time later the midshipman was standing on the broad deck of the flagship offering a sealed document to Arthur.
‘From London, sir, War Office.’
Arthur returned the salute and took the despatch below to the wardroom, where he closed the door and broke the seal on the stitched canvas covering. Like most orders that were carried at sea, they had been covered with waterproofed canvas and contained an iron weight to send the message to the bottom of the sea if the vessel carrying them was intercepted. Placing the iron bar to one side, Arthur took out the envelope addressed to him and flipped it over to see that it had been sent directly from the office of Viscount Castlereagh, the Secretary of State for War. Arthur opened the envelope, unfolded the letter and began to read the contents swiftly.
Castlereagh reported that the latest intelligence received from British spies in Portugal was that General Junot’s army might contain over forty thousand men. Accordingly, the War Office had decided to send a further fifteen thousand men to join Arthur’s force in Portugal, and Castlereagh regretted to inform Sir Arthur that the combined force would be of such a size that a more senior officer would be required to command it.
Arthur felt the dead weight of disappointment settle on his soul. Once again fate seemed to have conspired against him. At the very moment when he was on the verge of commencing his first independent command in the European theatre of war, he was about to be trumped by a senior officer.
He read on. The combined force was to be placed under the command of Sir Hew Dalrymple. Arthur tried to recall what he knew of the man. Sir Hew must be nearly twenty years older than Arthur. He had seen very little active service, and even that was over ten years ago. Sir Hew was to be accompanied by Sir Harry Burrard and four other officers who would be above Arthur in the new chain of command. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath to calm his temper and ease the frustration that burned away inside. At length he read the final paragraph. He frowned, and read it again, slowly and deliberately, and then lowered the letter with a faint smile. The Secretary for War had concluded by ordering Arthur not to wait for his superiors to catch up but to continue his operation to seize Lisbon as speedily as possible.
‘God bless you, Castlereagh,’Arthur muttered.There was a chance for him yet, provided he did not waste a moment. Folding the letter, he stood up swiftly and promptly whacked his head on the low ceiling. He emerged on deck, rubbing his crown, then jammed his hat on his head and strode across to join Admiral Cotton.
‘I have just received orders from London.’
‘So?’
‘We are to land the army immediately.’
‘Immediately? Why, half the day is gone already, Sir Arthur. My marines have only just taken charge of the fort. It would be best to wait until the morrow.’
Arthur shook his head.‘There is no time to waste.The army must be landed at once.’
All afternoon, and well into dusk, the boats ferried soldiers and supplies ashore.The surf was even more wild than it appeared from the ships, and some of the lighter boats were tumbled over as they attempted to approach the shore, casting the sailors and soldiers into the foaming spray where several were drowned. But, by nightfall, the first wave of Arthur’s army was ashore and had moved beyond the red rocks lining the shore to make camp. Pickets were posted further inland. Arthur would have liked to send cavalry patrols out to locate the nearest enemy troops, but only a handful of horses had sailed with the expedition and they were still aboard the convoys, awaiting calmer conditions to be brought ashore.
A small tent had been erected for the commanding officer and by the light of a single lantern Arthur conferred with his new aide-de-camp, a young man recommended to him by the Duke of Richmond.
‘So then, Somerset, how long will it take to complete the unloading?’
Lord Fitzroy Somerset consulted his notes in a calm, unhurried manner. ‘We have three thousand men ashore. There’re another twelve and a half to come all told. Food supplies and ammunition will come first, in case we encounter any of the enemy. Then the artillery and engineers. Given the available boats, and time taken to make a round trip, I have calculated that the landing will be completed in six days’ time, sir.’
‘I see.’ Arthur nodded. It was not good news. General Junot was bound to learn of the landing before the following day was out and would instantly begin to concentrate his forces in an attempt to repel the British invasion.The army had to be ready to move before then.The main difficulty was that neither the artillery nor the cavalry had sufficient horses to march on the enemy.The War Office had anticipated that a ready supply of horses could be found in Portugal. However, as Arthur had quickly discovered, the small country was poor and good horses were scarce. Even mules were in short supply and as things stood the infantry would be required to haul some of the supply wagons by hand. Arthur glanced up at Somerset. ‘Any word from our Portuguese friend yet?’
General Freire had been charged by his government in exile to co-operate with the British as fully as possible and had promised to join Arthur with food, horses and another six thousand Portuguese soldiers the moment the redcoats landed. Arthur had met Freire at Oporto when the flagship had stopped there on the way to Lisbon. Freire, like so many local officials, had offered an effusive welcome to Arthur and his staff officers, and had made wild boasts about crushing the French forces on Portuguese soil before joining with his British brothers and liberating Spain. Arthur had thanked him politely and persuaded Freire to meet him on the Lisbon road, at Leiria, and march on the Portuguese capital together.
Somerset shook his head.‘Nothing as yet, sir. Freire might have been delayed. Or he might not have sent out any messengers to advise us of his approach.’
‘Tell me, Somerset, what did you make of Freire?’
Arthur watched his aide closely as Somerset quickly formed his judgement and made his reply. ‘I was impressed by his sense of patriotism, sir. There is no doubting his desire to rid Portugal of the French. However, he did not seem to have any ready answers to your queries about where the supplies and the horses would come from. If I may be honest, sir?’
‘Speak freely, Somerset. I will not have an aide humour me. I must be able to trust you implicitly.’