The wine barges could each hold up to thirty men, and as soon as they had crept down into the reeds on the near bank of the Douro the first company of redcoats clambered aboard. There were over six hundred men in the battalion, and the men of the following companies crouched low in the reeds to wait their turn to cross. The barges were propelled by two sweeps, long oars manned by two men, on each side, and once the barges had been punted free of the reeds and out into the river the men began to pull on the oars. Since they were soldiers and not sailors, the progress was slow and graceless, but within a quarter of an hour the first barge had grounded on the far bank.There was still no sign of the enemy as the soldiers of the Third Foot splashed into the shallows and surged ashore. Colonel Waters thrust his arm out towards the silent convent as the other barges grounded.
‘Follow me, boys!’
He ran across the stony ground, which was broken by spiky clumps of aloe, and burst through the gates into the courtyard that surrounded the convent.The walls were solid masonry, covered in plaster, and stood eight feet high. To one side of the courtyard stood piles of timber and other building materials and Waters guessed that the structure must be undergoing some kind of renovation work.
‘We need firing steps,’ Waters decided, and turned to the nearest officer, a burly lieutenant. ‘Get your men to work. I want firing steps around the perimeter wall. Fast as you can.’
Leaving the soldiers to set to work,Waters climbed the convent’s bell tower and noted with satisfaction that the men who had been left to work the barges were already rowing back to the far bank to fetch the next company. It was going to be slow work, he realised. If the French spotted the danger and reacted quickly enough they could still hold the north bank, provided they could capture the convent that covered the landing point. He turned and looked down into the courtyard.The first company across looked like a pitifully small number to do the job. If only there was time to land an entire battalion before the French realised what was happening, they could hold the convent long enough to cover the landing of a force strong enough to assault the main French army in Oporto.
As the morning dragged on, the barges rowed steadily to and fro, bringing in more and more troops until over five hundred men were lining the walls of the convent, warily watching for the first sign of a French attack.
On the far bank Arthur watched their progress in a state of tense excitement. Incredibly, the crossing had not yet been detected, but even as he watched a sudden movement on the cliffs opposite drew his attention. Tiny figures in blue coats were picking their way along the rocks at the top. Sunlight glittered off gold braid, and raising his telescope Arthur saw that it was a party of officers. If they continued any further they must surely see the barges crossing the river away to their left. For a few more minutes he observed the French officers, until he saw one of them halt, stare for a moment and then thrust his arm down towards the river. The other officers hurried over, and their leader, whose uniform was gaudy with gold lace, gesticulated towards the convent.A moment later the party began to retrace its steps, leaving two of their number on watch.
Arthur snapped his telescope shut and swiftly gave orders for one of his orderlies to get down to the river and warn Colonel Waters that the enemy was now wise to the crossing. Then, quitting the terrace, Arthur hurried through the convent and mounted the horse waiting outside. He spurred it up the track leading to the heights on which he had positioned his heaviest guns the day before. The batteries were commanded by Major Harris, a thin officer in his forties, and he rose from the shade of an olive grove as his general came galloping up.
‘Harris, do you see that track there?’ Arthur pointed across the river. ‘Leading down from the cliff to the convent. ‘See it?’
Harris squinted a moment before he made out the route indicated. ‘I see it, sir.’
‘Good. Those men in the convent are ours. I expect the enemy to make an attempt to drive them out at any moment. But they will have to descend the cliff in order to reach the convent. Can your guns use case shot effectively at that range?’
Harris pursed his lips and squinted a moment before he nodded. ‘The range is long, but it’s possible, sir.’
‘Good.You might want to try your howitzers on the enemy at the same time.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Harris rubbed his hands together. ‘Scared them out of their wits at Vimeiro. Should do the same again here, sir.’
‘That’s what I’m counting on.’
Arthur remained with the artillery as Harris ordered his crews to train their weapons on the track leading down the cliff from Oporto. Harris went from gun to gun to ensure that they were well laid, and then the crews carefully loaded the first round and waited.
The French did not keep them long. Shortly after eleven thirty, by Arthur’s watch, a dense column of infantry began to issue forth from one of the city’s gateways and quick-march to the head of the track leading down the cliff. Arthur turned to Harris.
‘In your own time, Harris. Make every shot tell.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Harris saluted and strode across to his guns. He stood behind the first six-pounder and squinted down the crude sights towards the head of the column. He stepped away from the gun. ‘Open fire.’
The sergeant carrying the linstock lowered the glowing fuse to the small charge in the paper cone that poked up from the barrel. The gun bellowed as a jet of fire and smoke ripped into the morning air.There was a steady breeze blowing in from the ocean and the dense cloud of powder smoke swiftly dispersed. From his vantage point on the back of his horse Arthur was the first to gauge the effect of the cannon. Most of the cone of lead shot had smashed into the rocks above the track, dislodging stones and shredding the stunted plants that clung to the slope. Little puffs of dust marked the point of impact. One Frenchman was down, slumped over a boulder beside the track, and another was writhing on the ground as his companions marched on. Arthur could make out the white spots of their faces as they glanced nervously towards the guns on the far bank. As well they might, Arthur thought grimly as the other guns boomed out, raking the enemy column with their deadly scatter of small lead shot. Entire files of the leading French battalion were swept away and the track was soon littered with blue-coated bodies. But still they hurried on, down the track towards the convent, where the leading troops fanned out into a skirmishing line and began firing on the defenders lining the walls.
The wine barges were still ferrying troops across the river and these fed into the convent through a small side gate, out of sight of the enemy skirmishers. While it was an infantry only engagement Arthur was satisfied that Colonel Waters and his men would hold their position.The French commander must had reached the same conclusion because, as Arthur watched, a battery of horse guns emerged from Oporto and began to canter down the track.