Hostile Shores

“Their key defences are the two fortresses, though, Commodore Popham,” Beresford hesitantly pointed out. “Is the officer in command of their forces the cautious sort, he may not wish to stray too far from their reach.”

“Then he will be lost,” Baird countered, scoffing. “Where we face the worst peril is upon the beaches, or just behind them in the hills. Counter us there, and he could delay our advance to a crawl, and a series of head-on assaults from one advantageous point of terrain to the next, especially did he deny us a crossing of the Salt River. No, Beresford, I still say their general, whoever he is, will and must meet us in the open. The Cape Colony is too large an area to be defended by infantry alone. I expect that the Dutch will have more horse than we may field, so he will possess the advantages of rapid mobility, and only a pluperfect fool would throw that edge away.”

Christ, a soldier with a brain in his head! Lewrie thought with admiration for Baird; Now there’s a rare bird!

“And, what part will Reliant and I play, sir?” Lewrie asked of Popham.

“Admiral Villeneuve and his huge fleet may be destroyed, do we believe your news, Captain Lewrie,” Popham quickly told him, with a grin, “but the French still have more than enough ships in the Indian Ocean, prowling this side of the Cape of Good Hope. ’Til we have established a firm lodgement ashore, we must keep one eye peeled seaward against their interference. Your Reliant, Leda, and Narcissus, I will keep mobile, cruising close ashore, perhaps to provide some fire support against any Dutch batteries, but still able to sortie should any French warships turn up … to protect the transports.”

“’Til we may shift them deeper into Table Bay, sir? But, what should I be doing after that?” Lewrie pressed. “If I was sent along to share my experiences ashore—”

“There is that, Commodore Popham,” General Baird said. “If there is a threat from the French, your larger ships would be more than a match to any of their frigates, hmm? Captain Lewrie here might prove to be useful and informative ashore.”

“It’ll be Navy boats that get your troops to the beaches, sir, and to sort out the cavalry, artillery, and supplies,” Lewrie quickly suggested. “I could bring along my Marines, and an equal number of armed sailors, say … eighty or so, in all. If the French show up, my First Officer is more than capable of fighting my ship for me.”

“And, your own Flag-Captain, Captain Downman, you have already assigned the role of supervising naval co-ordination of the landing, sir,” Baird added. “Indeed, let’s bring Lewrie ashore with us.”

“It will be as you say, Sir David,” Popham consented. “Well, gentlemen. Now that’s settled, let us have a ‘stirrup cup’, as it were, to bid Captain Lewrie a safe return to his ship!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Christmas came and went, with raisin duffs for each eight-man mess, and a “Splicing of The Main-Brace” issue of grog, to celebrate, minus the wilder rites of civilians, and no Lord of Mis-Rule leading a ravening pack of carolers to barge into houses and demand di

The great-cabins were also the site of the New Year’s Eve supper for the officers, with as grand a repast as could be concocted after several months on-passage, livened by music and song, and a flowing bowl of punch which had to be refilled twice over.

The First of January of 1806 the next morning was welcomed with yet another “Splice The Main-Brace” and a day of “Make And Mend” idleness for all hands, beyond necessary ship’s work. With Reliant and the invasion convoy now below the 30th Meridian, and hundreds of miles out to sea from the shores of Africa, the temperatures were once more bearable, as was the glare of the sun. Many sailors went bare-chested and hatless as they sewed to repair or alter their clothes, wrote letters or had them written by more literate mates, read books or months-old newspapers, worked small-stuff twine to fashion rings, bracelets, and lanyards for their personal knives, or more complicated brooches that they hoped to have sewn on distant loves’ gowns, someday. Some carved rock-hard salt-meat into snuff boxes, or combs. And, many “caulked”, seizing the rare opportunity to sleep without disturbance beyond their few hours off-watch in their hammocks below.

*   *   *

“It is now official,” Sailing Master Caldwell declared after he lowered his sextant and scribbled his sums on a scrap of paper. “May I now wish you all a Happy New Year, sirs.”

“Ehm … would the new year actually have started at Eight Bells of the Night Watch, sir?” Midshipman Sha

“For landlubbers, aye, Mister Sha

“And the same to you, Mister Caldwell,” Lewrie answered, admittedly a trifle blearily. His supper party the evening before had polished off a round dozen bottles of various wines, two massive bowls of punch heavily laced with rum, gin, some precious champagne, and great sloshes of his personal store of aged American bourbon whisky, and it had taken a hard look and a long try to rouse himself when wakened at 4 A.M. at the change of watch. There were some bohemian types and young sprogs of the sporting set who wore coloured glasses, and today Lewrie wished that he had a pair, for the bright and lovely day was painful on his eyes, and enflamed the dull headache that throbbed behind them.

I do b’lieve a passionate kiss, or a cold breakfast, might kill me, he told himself in moody misery, stifling yet another belch from his dicey stomach. All he wished was a very quiet few hours below in the relative silence, and dimness, of his cabins ’til sundown.

“I reckon us to be here, sirs,” Caldwell happily babbled on, “and am most pleased that most of the younkers’ reckonings agree with me.” He cast a chary eye upon Sha

“Do any of you young fellows have an explanation why Commodore Popham would lead us so broad?” Lt. Westcott posed to the Mids.

“Well, sir, sailing this far South, perhaps he intends to fetch the North-most fringes of the Westerlies,” Midshipman Eldridge said. “In that way, we could approach the Cape below it, then alter course and sail up to Cape Town and Table Bay on the Sou’east winds, from a quarter which the Dutch would not expect.”

“The Commodore is a very clever fellow,” Midshipman Rossyngton quickly agreed. “Why, the Dutch might even take us for a large French trade making its way to Europe from their Indian Ocean possessions!”

“Did we continue our slow approach from the North, they would spot us and be on the alert for days, else,” Midshipman Munsell speculated. “But, coming from the South, we’d be on the Cape, and along the shore, as quick as one could say ‘Knife’! Right into Table Bay in the middle of their di

“Not into Table Bay itself, no,” Lewrie grumbled. “Can anyone tell me why? No? Pray do refer to the other chart.”

Once rolled out and pi

“Ehm … there are those two forts,” Midshipman Grainger shyly said. “Fortresses, really, especially this one on the West side of Cape Town, guarding the seaward approaches.”