“Most happy to oblige, sir, and it will be done as you wish!” Captain Honyman replied with a perky grin, as if he had just been given the most important duty, not a feint.
“Once a suitable stretch of beach has been selected in the bay, I will expect all our men o’ war to lend their largest ships’ boats to supplement the transports’ boats, so we may establish the strongest lodgement, as quickly as possible, ashore,” Commodore Popham went on, looking up from his charts to peer at each of his captains, in turn. “Launches, cutters, even your own gigs … though I think we may leave the little jolly boats to your Bosuns so they may row about to see if your yards are squared, ha!”
“If I may, sir?” Diadem’s Flag-Captain, Downman, a pleasant and inoffensive-looking fellow, interrupted. “I was wondering about the order of anchoring, both off Robben Island, and in Blaauwberg Bay. Which group of transports, bearing which regiments, should be closest to the chosen beach to form the initial lodgement, and which units might Sir David deem to be of lesser importance, which could be anchored behind those at first, landing their troops, artillery, or cavalry, later? It would seem to me that do we establish the order of landing now, we could reverse the order of anchoring off Robben Island, placing the most important furthest out from the island, but first to sail, when the order is given to land the army.”
Commodore Popham twitched his mouth as if irked by the suggestion, but quickly recovered his aplomb and leaned back from the table and charts to beam at Downman. “An excellent suggestion, Downman! We do wish to pull this off with the neatest sort of efficiency, hey? It will be up to Sir David, of course, as to which regiment he chooses to land first.”
“Well, actually, I was of a mind, to put two regiments ashore at once, Sir Home,” General Baird said to Commodore Popham. “Not knowing how quickly, or in how much force, my Dutch opponent might respond, it would be best to get the Thirty-eighth Foot and the Ninety-third Highlanders ashore. Do you concur, Beresford?”
“Hmm, well,” Brigadier Beresford pondered, “two regiments would be best, though perhaps one might substitute the Seventy-first Highlanders for the Thirty-eight Foot. They’re better-drilled than the Thirty-eighth, and the Twenty-fourth, for that matter.”
“And two regiments of Scots would naturally be competitive with each other,” General Baird agreed with a small laugh. “God help the Dutch. Yes, I agree, Beresford. You take the Thirty-eighth for your brigade, along with the cavalry and artillery, and we will land the Heavy Brigade first, with your Light Brigade to follow.”
“With that settled,” Commodore Popham said, “and with the names of their transports known, we may write instructions as to the order of anchoring, and the subsequent sailing into Blaauwberg Bay. I trust you to organise all that, Downman.”
“Of course, sir,” Captain Downman replied, almost in a whisper, as if having such a task thrust upon him was nothing new since sailing under Popham.
“And, whilst we’re all here, do you determine how many boats we possess, and of which size, to lend to the army for the landings,” the Commodore added.
Did Downman wince? Lewrie wondered; Is he that put-upon? What’s a Flag-Captain for, if not to be the serf for his lord and master.
“I’ve two cutters and two barges, Captain Downman,” Lewrie volunteered. “I had need of ’em in the Channel, the summer of ’04, and the dockyards never really asked for ’em back, so—”
“They’ll be most welcome, Captain Lewrie,” Downman promised him with a brief, shy grin.
“You use a barge fit for a full Admiral for your gig, do you, Captain Lewrie?” Popham teased, with a faint sniff.
“Just an humble cutter, sir,” Lewrie replied, tongue-in-cheek. “Ev’ryone knows I’m the modest sort. Ehm … might I ask what we will be doing during the landing, sir? Do we anchor far out, or sail in close to lend support with gunfire?”
“Diomede and the other two-deckers I wish to stand off-and-on, under way,” Popham told him. “Though we’ve seen no sign that the Dutch have their own warships at the Cape, there is always the odd chance. In like wise, we have not seen any French warships lurking in the vicinity, either, but there’s always a risk of their turning up at the worst time.
“A pity, do they not,” Popham went on in a whimsical manner. “How glorious it would be to gain a victory over a combined squadron of enemy vessels, and pull off the conquest of the Cape Colony, both! Ah, well.”
He shrugged off that hopeful fantasy, tossed them all a boyish smile, and continued. “Diomede and the sixty-four-gunners will stand guard against just that possibility, slim as the odds for that may be. It would be best did our frigates and lighter vessels close the shore and anchor near the first transports which bear the regiments for the initial landings.”
“If the wind is up and there’s a heavy surf running, sir, then we might help form a breakwater,” Captain Donnelly of the Narcissus frigate posed. “We, and the transports together … hey?”
“But, should Dutch artillery appear upon the hills behind the landing beach,” Commodore Popham countered, “you will consider yourself free to close to gun-range and engage with what fire you are able to deliver. Can’t let the Army do it all by themselves, what?”
“Of course, sir,” Donnelly said, seemingly satisfied with the Commodore’s reply.
Lewrie thought that Popham’s response to Donnelly’s query was just a tad “tetchy”. For all his charm and bonhomie, he might not care for doubtful questions from his subordinates, nor for suggestions on details which he had not yet fully considered, either.
“Once all the troops are landed, though,” Popham went on with a grin on his face, “we cannot let our compatriots in the Army have all the fun, either. I intend that we combine all our Marines, and such parties of armed sailors as we may spare, to go ashore and lend a hand.”
“Well, sir,” General Sir David Baird said, after a long pause and a tug at one earlobe, “that is a generous gesture, though hardly a necessary one, Sir Home. I fear your Marines and sailors would feel wasted guarding the beach, and the supply train.”
“Does the Navy do the guarding, Sir David, that spares your men from doing so,” Popham told him. “We determined earlier that the foe might possess more cavalry than infantry, given the vast size of the Cape Colony. Do the Dutch think to emulate the exploits of mounted partisan militias, like the Americans during their Revolution, or the irregular tactics of Red Indians, well! Your cavalry might be best-employed harassing them!”
Lewrie relished the sound of that, and was quick to volunteer.
“God yes!” he piped up. “I can land fourty Marines and an equal number of sailors under arms without diminishing Reliant’s ability to fight, or provide fire! Put me down for it! After all,” he added in jest, “I know the country, and all the poisonous snakes, scorpions, centipedes, spiders, and bugs!”
“By name, sir … personally?” Captain Byng of the Belliqueux said with a snicker. “All of them?”
“Once we take Cape Town, I also know all the good taverns and eateries,” Lewrie quickly rejoined in equal humour. “That’s surely worth something. And all the scorpions answer to Jan van der Merwe!”
“A moot point, for the nonce, gentlemen,” Popham told them, after he and the rest had had a good laugh. “But, once the bulk of the army and their supplies are ashore, we shall see about forming a Naval Brigade. First things first, hey? It may be that Sir David overwhelms the Dutch so quickly that our services might not be necessary, and we may go ashore at our leisure, after. Then, Captain Lewrie may give us a nature tour, ha ha! That may be as much as we may expect to contribute, more’s the pity.”