Even though he did not doubt that the enemy’s second line would cave in before the disciplined fire of the French troops, Napoleon did not want to lose any more men than necessary and decided the time had come for Murat’s cavalry to deliver the blow that would shatter the enemy’s will to continue the fight. As soon as the order was received, Murat trotted his horse to the front of the cavalry formation and bellowed the command to advance. It was as brave a sight as Napoleon had ever seen, and he felt his heart swell with pride, and only a little anxiety, as the lines of horsemen walked forward, slowly gathering pace as they crossed the abandoned first line of defence, then breaking into a trot before finally charging the enemy.
Murat’s cavalry tore into and through the second line, scattering the Turkish forces before them. Sabres glittered in the midday sun as the horsemen hacked and slashed at the fleeing men. Fear preceded them and the Turks in the last trench turned and ran without even firing a shot. Clambering out of their positions, some made for the safety of the fortress above them; many more ran towards the beach and waded out into the surf, hoping to swim to safety. The cavalry rode after them until the sea was up to the flanks of their mounts, and all the time the riders were cutting down the men in the water around them, turning it red as the day wore on.
The killing stopped late in the afternoon and Napoleon rode forward with Berthier to inspect the battlefield. Thousands of enemy dead lay piled in the trenches and scattered across the open ground between. Mingled with them were the French dead and wounded and Napoleon hurriedly detailed the nearest soldiers to help their injured comrades down to the dressing stations Desgenettes had established just behind the army’s original battle line. Over a thousand of the enemy had managed to reach the fortress and even now General Menou was busy reversing the defences of the last trench so that the defenders were now trapped there. As night fell, Napoleon returned to his tent to dictate a report of the battle to be sent to the Directory aboard the fast packet ship that communicated between France and Alexandria, when it could be assured of a route clear of English warships. The victory at Aboukir had smashed the Sultan’s chances of driving the French out of Egypt for the next year, or possibly two. Napoleon phrased his report with the usual glowing praise for the gallantry of the men and their commanders. It was true the French had suffered nearly a thousand casualties, but they had smashed the cream of the Sultan’s forces.
The next day an envoy landed from the Turkish fleet still anchored in the bay, asking permission to collect the Turkish wounded and take them on board the ships to carry them home. At first Napoleon was tempted to deny the request. But there had been more than enough suffering already, and he relented. As the Turkish seamen began to load the wounded janissaries aboard the ships’ boats being held steady in the surf, the envoy approached with a package of newspapers bound with string tucked under one arm. He paused a short distance from Napoleon as the guides relieved him of his sword, knife and pistol, then continued forward, proffering the bundled newspapers.
‘My master, Sir Sidney Smith, bids me to offer these to you in gratitude for the return of our wounded. They are the latest editions to reach the fleet, and are as current as anything that General Bonaparte’s army has read in months.’
‘The Directory is losing the war,’ Napoleon announced to his inner circle of senior officers: Berthier, Lannes and Murat. He had summoned them to his office as soon as he had returned to Cairo. The contents of the newspapers Smith had sent him had been carefully sifted before being circulated via the army’s official journal, and only a handful of men had been permitted to know the full details of events in Europe. Napoleon did not bother to hide his bitterness as he continued. ‘Almost everything that we gained in Italy has been lost to Austria. In Germany our armies have been beaten back towards the French border and in Paris the factions plot against each other with no thought of the men fighting and dying for France.The war will be lost, the revolution will be crushed and France will return to the tyranny of the Bourbons, unless the situation changes.’ He paused and glanced round at the others. ‘Or unless the situation is changed, by us.’
Berthier coughed.‘By us? How can we change anything from here, sir? You’ve said it yourself, we have been abandoned by the Directory. They might as well have forgotten we exist.’
‘Very well, then,’ Napoleon responded. ‘If we can’t influence events from Egypt, then we must return to France.’
Murat laughed. ‘Return to France? And how do you propose we do that, sir? March the army back into Syria, through Turkey, across the Balkans, over the Alps, and back through Italy? I warrant we’d get as far as the Sinai before the troops mutinied and shot us all.’
‘Then we go by ourselves, and leave the army here.’
The three generals looked at Napoleon in shocked silence. It was Lannes who responded first. ‘Abandon the army?’
‘They would hardly be abandoned,’ Napoleon countered. ‘I will leave Kléber in command. After the defeat at Aboukir Bay it’ll be a while before the Turks mount any further invasions. If the situation here worsens then the army can be evacuated at a later date. I give my word on that.’
‘As long as you can persuade the Directory to send the ships.’
‘My dear Lannes.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘I think the Directory is a spent force in France. The people, and more important the army, are desperate for a change. They crave a government with the will to act decisively and save the revolution. France needs strong men, now more than ever. It is our patriotic duty to return to France and do what we can to save her.’
There was a moment’s silence before Berthier said, ‘My general, you know I would follow you anywhere, but what exactly do you intend to do if . . . when we reach France, when we reach Paris?’
‘It’s impossible to say exactly. We’ll have to see what the situation is when we arrive. But let’s assume, for the moment, that conditions are ripe for leading France in a new direction.’ Napoleon’s eyes glinted as he opened his hands to gesture to his three subordinates.‘Why should it not be we who determine the course of that new direction? Are we not patriots? Have we not risked our lives for France on the battlefield? Who better, or more deserving, to lead the nation forward to victory, and peace?’
Lannes shook his head. ‘You are talking treason, sir.’
‘Treason? What have I ever done to betray France? No.This is not treason. Treason is what those corrupt politicians in Paris practise every day they mismanage the war and drive our people into poverty.’ Napoleon stabbed his finger down on the table. ‘The time for change has come, Lannes. All that matters now is to determine which side you are on.’
Lannes looked at Napoleon with a hurt expression. ‘General, I am on your side, and at your side, whatever happens, until the day I die.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Thank you. And you, Berthier? Murat? Are you with me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then it is settled. Never forget, my friends, that we do this for France, and for no other reason.’
‘When do we leave?’ asked Berthier. ‘I will need time to plan for the transfer of authority to Kléber, and to brief my replacement here.’
‘There will be no mention of this to anyone outside this room,’ said Napoleon. ‘If word got out then the morale of the men would sink like a rock. We’d risk a mutiny.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘There are two frigates at Alexandria, provisioned and ready to sail at a moment’s notice. In addition to you three, I will be taking my personal servant, Roustam, some of my household staff, a few good officers and two hundred picked men of the guides. None of them are in the know. Tomorrow, we leave Cairo, ostensibly on a tour of our outposts on the Nile delta. We will make straight for Alexandria, board the ships and set sail.’