Текст книги "Hostile Shores"

Автор книги: Dewey Lambdin

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

AFTERWORD

If there had been shrinks around in 1805–1806, they could have diagnosed the British people as schizophrenic, swinging from elation to despair in mere months, with nary a bottle of Valium in sight.

Since the end of the brief Peace of Amiens in the spring of 1803, they had lived in dread of a gigantic army which Napoleon Bonaparte, now the self-crowned Emperor of France, had assembled along the Channel coast, and the thousands of landing craft and gunboats he had ordered built to carry it the seemingly short distance across the “Narrow Sea” and invade England, bringing down Napoleon’s principal opposition to his ruling of all Europe, and perhaps a goodly chunk of the world. He did dream big!

When Lewrie is still in the Bahamas, he had no way of knowing that the presence of Admiral Villeneuve’s massive fleet was not there to conquer anything in the Caribbean, but to lure off the Royal Navy so that that massive army and invasion fleet would meet little opposition during that “six hours of mastery of the English Channel, and I will be master of the world” boast. Nelson, of the “Immortal Memory”, of course, put paid to that scheme by defeating the combined French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar, dying in the process.

There was great elation at first, followed by woe that Nelson was gone, and there were no other senior naval officers of his fame and stature in the wings to take his place.

Since that climactic defeat, Napoleon Bonaparte might have been in need of some Xanax or Valium, too, after spending so much money on his invasion forces, and seeing his grand scheme dashed to pieces. It was rumoured that Bonaparte groused that Villeneuve had lost because “I cannot be expected to be everywhere”, as if had he been at Trafalgar, the result would have been a different kettle of fish! At one time, before he had attended a military academy in France and had become an artillery officer, Bonaparte had expressed a notion to go into the French Navy; it may be an apocryphal tale, something that he dreamed up in his less-than-truthful, self-serving memoirs.

At any rate, what is a tyrant and conqueror to do after such a setback? Why, go bash his enemies in Europe, on the ground!

Austria was still a threat, itching to avenge itself upon the French for earlier embarrassments in the field since 1792, and could not abide that Napoleon had gone down to Italy and crowned himself the king of that patchwork land, where the Austrians thought that they ruled the roost. The young Alexander, Tsar of All the Russias, despised Napoleon, feared his ambitions, and personally wished Napoleon punished for the murder of the Duc de Angoulême, and when the British offered lashings of silver for every hundred thousand troops, he took the deal eagerly. Along with Austria and Russia, the Prussians—well, they were Prussians, of the same sort that brought the delights of World Wars One and Two, almost as militaristic and despotic as the French had become, and the money sounded sweet to them, too.

When it appeared that a fresh grand coalition of European powers had arisen against poor little much-put-upon “Boney”, encouraged by Nelson’s victory, and Prime Minister William Pitt’s cash stash, he had to act, and was surely more than happy to go bash the stuffings out of somebody to make up for it, and make him feel better.

The Austrians had improved their army and its tactics since the last time they’d been slobber-knockered by the French, but they still weren’t quite up to snuff, and they just got reamed at the battles of Ulm, then the joint battle with their new Russian allies which happened at Austerlitz, Napoleon’s most complete and crushing victories of his long career. To add insult to injury, he later went on to rip the Prussians a new one at Jena and Auerstädt, and add Prussia as part of Metropolitan France!

It’s possible that the news of all those defeats were the cause of William Pitt’s demise, which so stunned Commodore Popham when he learned of it. The people of Great Britain took all that bad news, and Pitt’s death, pretty hard, too, and a great war-weariness set in once more. (“Doc, I just feel so depressed!”)

The quick and easy conquest of the Cape Colony early in 1806 really didn’t do much to lift their spirits, either, though the news that Popham sent back to London made it sound a lot grander than it really was.

No wonder, then, that in the middle of gloom and doom, news of Popham’s conquest of Buenos Aires, and all the money appropriated in the process, set the London papers and the government aflame with praise. Patriotic Funds ordered presentation swords and complete sets of silver plate in his honour, and grand resolutions were announced in Parliament. When Popham’s open letter to the merchants of London, in which he boasted of the immense profits that could be made there, was published, Commodore Popham was acclaimed as the New Nelson, which I suspect was his aim all along.

Admiralty, though, even with Popham’s friend Earl Grey in charge as First Lord, was appalled that the Commodore had abandoned his post at the Cape and gone gallivanting off on a “Mad As A Hatter” escapade, profits be damned. Cape Town was left almost defenceless. There was talk of court-martial, despite the loud public accolades and fresh joy.

Commodore Sir Home Riggs Popham, inventor of the flag signals code, an endless font of ideas for aggressive action against the King’s enemies (and his own advancement!), found that he had bitten off a bit more than he could chew when he took Buenos Aires. He’d been sold a thrilling bill of goods by that Colonel Miranda, a lecherous gad-fly who’d traipsed the Continent promoting his grand vision of a South America free of Spanish rule, united into a great republic of native peoples—meaning Spanish-descended criollos, not the real indigenous natives or the slaves—which could take its place on the world stage, in emulation of the American Revolution, and the relatively new United States. In the process, Miranda’s assurances of people yearning to breathe free, and revolutionaries just champing at the bit to arise and open their markets to anyone who’d aid them, had grown grander and bigger over the years. In truth, though, except for some idle talkers in intellectual circles and wealthy salon society, it was all a fraud.

Resistance arose quickly, under the leadership of Sobremonte and Pueyrredón, as mentioned. In addition, there was a former French naval officer under the old Bourbon regime, Liniers, in Spanish service, who styled himself Don Santiago de Liniers, who took part; his name and presence utterly convinced Popham that it was all a French plot!

Liniers rode into Buenos Aires, claiming that he wanted to see to his family’s needs, then was allowed to ride out, again, after he had scouted Brigadier Beresford’s positions, the strength of patrols, and how few British troops were actually present. Liniers also had no trouble crossing the estuary to Montevideo and meeting with his fellow rebels, and the reconquista was on!

Barely a month after taking the place, by mid-July Brigadier Beresford knew that he was “in the quag” right up to his neck. Enemy forces were gathering rapidly from the ranches in the hinterland, and from the garrison and volunteers from Montevideo. Popham had very few boats to row guard to prevent the movement of troops, and his only warship, Encounter, could not sail up into the shallows where enemy fishing boats were ferrying men over in the night. Diadem, Diomede, and Reliant drew too much water to even get close to helping. Indeed, Captain Donnelly’s Narcissus had spent her first day in the Plate Estuary aground on the Chico Bank, far from Buenos Aires!

It was not for nothing that in later years, once the nations of Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay had been carved out of the larger Spanish possessions, that the deep-water Canal Punta Indio was dug out from the docks of Buenos Aires to deeper water South of Montevideo!

Popham could give the unfortunate Beresford no help, and the weather did not cooperate, either. There were heavy rains, gusty gales, and heavy fogs. Popham could not even manage to get his ships to the wee port of Ensenada to take off Beresford’s wounded, or evacuate the army. They might have saved themselves by marching down to Point Quilmes, where they’d landed, and been taken off by boats from the five transports that remained in the Estuary, from the mouth of the Cuello River, but Beresford stood his ground, and on the night of August 11th, 1806, his troops stood to-arms all night. On the morning of August 12th, he was attacked by overwhelming numbers, and, after suffering 48 dead, 107 wounded, and 10 missing, he was forced to surrender. The terms were fairly generous, but Brigadier Beresford and his remaining men were marched inland.

By now, Lewrie’s part in the Buenos Aires fiasco was long done, but if you thought that Commodore Popham would tuck his tail beneath his legs and slink off like a frustrated fox, you’ve another think coming; the comedy of errors was only just starting!

Even though there were no Spanish merchant ships or warships in a thousand miles of the Estuary, Popham used his remaining squadron to “blockade” Buenos Aires (I’m sure that looked good in reports!) until he received a few re-enforcements from General Baird at the Cape of Good Hope. By this time, Admiralty had sent orders for his recall to London, and a replacement had been sent out.

With his re-enforcements, Popham tried to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear (perhaps to salvage his arse!) by making a stab at taking Montevideo! His few ships couldn’t get close enough for their guns to make an impression, so he settled for going up the coast and taking the port of Maldonado and the island of Gorrete, where his troops could set up winter camps, on the 30th of October.

This defeat was considered an insult to the honour of British arms. Popham’s replacement, Rear-Admiral Charles Stirling, arrived with a fresh army, and hopes expressed in London that not only would Buenos Aires and Montevideo be re-taken, but an expedition would also sail round the Horn and take the city of Valparaiso in Chile, then build a string of fortresses right cross the entire continent! London would make a virtue of necessity.

Stirling and his army commanders, General Samuel Auchmuty and Lieutenant-General John Whitelocke, had a second go at Montevideo in February of 1807, and took the place, being “gallantly carried”.

From there, another go at Buenos Aires was launched, an army of twelve thousand men to do the job proper, this time.

Unfortunately, it was entrusted to Lieutenant-General Whitelocke, who was no brighter than Beresford had been. He led them cross the swampy lands near Quilmes and cross the Cuello, and right into utter disaster! Nearly 2,500 British soldiers were killed and Whitelocke’s army was also forced to surrender, with Whitelocke meekly agreeing that all British forces would evacuate the Plate within two months.

Whitelocke was subsequently court-martialled, cashiered, and deemed “totally unfit and unworthy to serve His Majesty in any military capacity whatsoever.”

“Wasn’t the Navy’s fault, Yer Honour, sir! Wasn’t any of our doing!”

When Popham got back to England, he was also called before a court-martial board aboard HMS Gladiator at Portsmouth from March 6th to the 11th, and the sentence was as follows:

The court has agreed that the charges have been proved against the said Captain Sir Home Popham; that the withdrawing, without orders so to do, the whole of any naval force from where it is directed to be employed, and the employing it in distant operations against the enemy, more especially if the success of such operations should be likely to prevent its speedy return, may be attended with the most serious inconvenience to the public service, as the success of any plan formed by His Majesty’s ministers for operations against the enemy, in which such naval force might be included, may by such removal, be entirely prevented. And the court has further agreed that the conduct of the said Captain Sir Home Popham, in the withdrawing the whole of the naval force under his command from the Cape of Good Hope, and the proceeding with it to Rio de la Plata, is highly censurable; but, in consideration of circumstances, doth adjudge him to be only severely reprimanded; and he is hereby severely reprimanded accordingly.

Good looks, good connexions, the “Petti-coat influence” of a good-looking wife, and all the smarm of a used-car salesman pulled Popham through, with only the slightest blot on his escutcheon. He went on to serve, again, zestfully babbling up schemes like former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, and enjoyed a long career … though when he served under “The Gallant Pellew” in 1813–1815, a man rightly famed as one of the finest and boldest frigate captains in the Royal Navy, it was said that Pellew couldn’t stand the sight of him!

Ironically, after this British humiliation, there was one bright spot. The subjects of the Viceroyalty de la Plata, in uniting to defeat and oust the British, turned into revolutionaries intent on winning their independence! On May 25th, 1810, the Primera Junta was formed at Buenos Aires to throw off slothful and ineffective Spanish rule, and establish home rule in the new nation-states of Argentina, Paraguay across the Plate, and Uruguay. News of the Junta caused the beginning of a series of uprisings throughout South and Latin America, culminating in the ultimate military and political victories of Simón Bolívar. Let’s just caution, though, that winning independence didn’t exactly result in Jeffersonian Democracy, as Colonel Mendoza wished to emulate!

A late friend of mine, Bob Enrione, was in Argentina during the Falklands War with a CBS Network news crew, and, due to extremely strict control and censorship by the military junta, had a lot of time on his hands, lounging round the hotel, sampling the famed local wines, and dining very cheaply on incredibly large, fine steak dinners. In the course of his rambles, he did, however, manage to talk with many Argentinans, and got the distinct impression that they thought that they might have been a tad too hasty in kicking the British out! Had they accepted British help in winning independence, they might have had a stable Parliamentary system, fair taxation, the best of older Spanish law and English Common Law combined, as it was in India under the East India Company and the later Raj, they imagined, and their country would have been spared all the “aggro” and “agita” of wars with their neighbours in the 1880s, and a sad parade of juntas, el jefes, and generalissimos that crushed every democracy that they set up. Who knows how it would have turned out? We’ll never know, unless someone wishes to write an alternate-history sci-fi novel. Are there any takers out there?

So, there’s the gallant Alan Lewrie, flat on his back and for a time in swaddles, forced to indulge his lazy streak, for a rare once, ’til he’s strong enough to get back on his feet and make it as far as his quarter-gallery … and his wine-cabinet. The pity of it; all that time abed, and nary a woman in sight! It will be weeks before Reliant will anchor in Table Bay at Cape Town, and he can expect letters from home. Remember, no one told the post packets that he’d sailed off for the Plate Estuary!

When Reliant reaches England, she will surely be paid off, her officers and crew, except for the Standing Officers, scattered to the four winds, and the needs of the Fleet, and she might prove to be his last frigate. Lewrie is senior-enough, and experienced-enough, to be given an active commission into a larger ship. Might she be an older 64-gunner that could still prove useful on foreign stations, or will he be shoved aboard a Third Rate two-decker 74 and end up on gruelling blockade duty, for years on end?

In the back of Lewrie’s mind, there are some dreads, too. As a part of Commodore Popham’s failed expedition, might some of the blame end up harming his career? Will Admiralty even offer him a new commission? Will he heal up sufficiently to accept one? He’s in his fourties, now, and not as spry or as quick to heal as he was in his early years. If his wound cripples or lames him, how dreadful would life be, on half-pay, ashore for good, with no further part to play in ridding the world of Napoleon Bonaparte and his armies of “Frogs”? He’s had his bucolic, peaceful years ’tween the wars, and hated every day of that time! Two or three months of rest would be more than welcome, but the rest of his life? The Navy, and war, are the only things he’s good at!

Idling round his father’s estate at Anglesgreen, smack-dab in the middle of his former in-laws’ spite, his daughter’s bile … Pah! And, would Lydia Stangbourne still think him dashing, assuming that she ever makes up her mind to trust him enough to re-marry? Would Lydia, and no one else, be enough for Lewrie’s libidinous nature? He knows what happens when he’s idle, and his eyes roam.

And, when Reliant pays off, what will become of Biscuit?

I fear you’ll simply have to wait awhile longer to discover the answers to all those posers, but, here’s a wee hint …

Farewell, and adieu, to you Spanish ladies,

Farewell, and adieu, to you ladies of Spain,

For we’ve received orders to sail for old England,

but, we hope very shortly to see you, again!

Also by Dewey Lambdin

The King’s Coat

The French Admiral

The King’s Commission

The King’s Privateer

The Gun Ketch

H.M.S. Cockerel

A King’s Commander

Jester’s Fortune

King’s Captain

Sea of Grey

Havoc’s Sword

The Captain’s Vengeance

A King’s Trade

Troubled Waters

The Baltic Gambit

King, Ship, and Sword

The Invasion Year

Reefs and Shoals

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEWEY LAMBDIN is the author of eighteen previous Alan Lewrie novels. A member of the U.S. Naval Institute and a Friend of the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England, he spends his free time working and sailing. He makes his home in Nashville, Tennessee, but would much prefer Margaritaville or Murrells Inlet.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

HOSTILE SHORES. Copyright © 2013 by Dewey Lambdin. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.stmartins.com

Cover design by Elsie Lyons

Cover photographs: The Battle of the Nile, August 1st 1798 (oil on canvas), by Thomas Luny (1759–1837), © London, Sotheby’s/akg-images; compas and paper © Tischenko Irina/Shutterstock.com

Maps copyright © 2013 by Cameron Macleod Jones

ISBN 978-0-312-59572-2 (hardcover)

e-ISBN 9781250028839 (e-book)

First Edition: February 2013