Hostile Shores

“And here, and here?” Lewrie prompted, pointing to the mountains South of the town and the bay. “First, there are the Twelve Apostles along the shore. Above them on the West side of town are the Lion’s Head and the slightly lower Lion’s Rump. South of town is the Tafelberg … ‘Table Mountain’ … and, the lesser mounts of Signal Hill by Green Point, and the Devil’s Peak below Table Mountain’s foot. Any of them are tall enough for any watchers to see twenty miles or more out to sea on a good day, so there’s little chance of catching them with their breeches down. An approach from the South, as it appears that Commodore Popham prefers, might give the Dutch a day less to get ready to resist us, but I doubt they’d take us for a French commercial trade. And why is that, young sirs?”

“That they no longer have any, sir?” Munsell guessed.

“Spot on,” Lt. Westcott said with a laugh. “The French lost all their trade from China and India in the first months of the first war in 1793, and never could revive it, even during the Peace of Amiens. They’ve been driven from their few footholds in India, and only hold naval bases in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The Dutch might expect to see one or two frigates or large privateers coming round the Cape to put into Table Bay for provisions, but not a fleet such as ours.”

“So, even coming from the South, on favourable winds, there’s no chance of surprise,” Midshipman Warburton concluded.

“Well, some surprise, but not a total surprise,” Mr. Caldwell said with a grunt of satisfaction.

“If the fortress on the West of Cape Town commands the way into the Bay, where are we to land the Army, then, sir?” Midshipman Sha

“North of Robben Island, on the Nor’west side of Table Bay, Commodore Popham favours either Saldanha or Blaauwberg Bay. Blaauwberg lies much closer to our objective,” Lewrie told them. “Depending on the wind, weather, and the surf conditions, of course. That’s where we will land General Sir David Baird’s soldiers, God help ’em.”

“They’re rather open to the sea, really,” Grainger pointed out.

“So’s Table Bay, when ye get right down to it,” Lewrie said. “I spent weeks anchored there repairin’ Proteus, and when the winds got up, we did drag a little, even with both bowers and kedge anchor down. And us with no rudder! That’ll keep one up at night!”

“Once Cape Town is taken, sir, might there be a chance for us to go ashore?” Rossyngton asked. “I’d imagine that every Man Jack’d be keen to see the sights.”

“Go for a ride on an ostrich?” Lewrie suggested.

“Oh, surely, sir!” Eldridge hooted, leery of such an implausible notion. Even gullible little Sha

“I’ve seen it done,” Lewrie declared. “S’truth! Not that I did so. But, there’s lashings of fresh water, fresh fruits and vegetables, vineyards everywhere ye look, and the Dutch’ve managed t’produce very good wines … whites, mostly. Their red wines are fine if drunk here, but they don’t travel well. And, bein’ Dutch and all, their beers are hellish-good. Aye, Mister Rossyngton, I’d imagine that once the Army is successful, we’ll be here awhile, and can land liberty parties for a whole day or so … once the working-parties’ chores are done, mind.”

“Long enough to go hunting and riding, sir? Long enough to see elephants and lions and such?” Sha

“Well, one’d have t’ride rather far abroad t’see the wildlife,” Lewrie told him. “and I don’t think we could spare you that long. The Dutch have been here for centuries, and have driven most of the lions and all far away from their farms. That’d be like tryin’ t’find bears and stags roamin’ Islington, these days. Elands, kudus, and gnus are still near the settled lands, and you must have at least one meal when ashore. The game meat’s marvellous! I had a chance to shoot a few, when I was here last, and even bagged a rare crocodile. Still have its teeth back home in England. Some say that crocodile tail-meat is as good as chicken, but I found it rather tough.”

“Lord, how many odd creatures’ flesh is compared to chicken!” Lt. Merriman exclaimed. “Snakes and I don’t know what-all. Why can’t we just stick with good old barnyard chicken and have done?”

“One might hope that there is more for us to do than landing the Army and then just waiting round ’til they take the Cape Colony, sir,” Lt. Westcott, ever in search of glory, honour, action, and favourable notice at Admiralty, groused. “Some way to take an active part?”

“And be among the first to encounter any fetching blond-haired Dutch maidens, do you mean, Mister Westcott?” Lt. Merriman teased.

“Well, there is that,” Westcott rejoined with a shrug and one of his brief, almost feral tooth-bearing grins. “Perhaps, sir, when you next meet with the Commodore,” Westcott said to Lewrie, “the offer of our services ashore might be deemed … welcome?”

“Get into some action alongside the Army?” Lt. Simcock, their Marine officer, stuck in with an eager look. He had been drowsing on his feet, drawn to the quarterdeck for the daily Noon Sights for lack of something better to do, but came awake at the prospect of gunfire.

“I will, of course, suggest such to the Commodore, but he and General Baird may think their five thousand men sufficient,” Lewrie told them. “I wouldn’t mind a chance t’do more than sit and twiddle my thumbs, either. Aye, we’ll see, Mister Westcott, Mister Simcock. The Day Watch is set, Mister Merriman? Very good. Carry on with the ‘Make And Mend’ ’til the First Dog. I will be below.”

Payin’ for the sin of inebriation, Lewrie thought, wincing at the twinkling glare of the sun off the wavetops, and wondering if the “hair of the dog” was a legitimate treatment for hangover.

He made it down the windward ladderway to the ship’s waist and tarried to pay attention to Bisquit, who was proud to show off his new collar, which was of red leather with ornate se

Two loud thuds erupted from somewhere, taking Lewrie, and his attention, back to the quarterdeck.

“‘General Signal’ with two guns from Diadem, sir!” Midshipman Eldridge was calling out to Lt. Merriman, the Officer of the Watch, with a long telescope to one eye. “It is … ‘Fleet … Will … Alter … Course’. Due East!”

“Bosun Sprague?” Merriman shouted down to the waist. “Do you pipe ‘All Hands’, Mister Sprague. ‘Stations for Wearing About’!” Then he looked to Lewrie, excitement all over his usually jovial countenance. “Huzzah, sir! It is begi

“Indeed it is, Mister Merriman,” Lewrie replied, remembering to play-act stern and stoic, and clasping his hands in the small of his back, and looking up the long line of warships. “I would expect the next order will be to ‘Wear in Succession’. Carry on, sir.”

“Aye aye!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ships’ Masters sailing from Europe to the West Indies fell down to the latitude of Dominica before turning Due West to ride the Trades, for the towering height of Dominica’s mountains could be seen over sixty miles out to sea on good days, a sure sea-mark, and a merchant captain, even one less-skilled at navigation, could count on spotting them and adjusting his course after determining his position.

So it was with the fleet’s first sight of Table Mountain, and the welcome cries of Land Ho on the 3rd of January 1806. It was much closer to the sea than Dominica’s peaks, and nearly 3,600 feet high, a massive, looming blotch on the horizon which first could be mistaken for the thunderheads of a black-hearted and murdering storm. But, as the ships of the expeditionary force slogged on Nor’easterly with the prevailing Trades abeam, its solidity became apparent, dark blue-grey and streaked with wisps of clouds streaming past its tops. From that point on, even the most in-experienced helmsman on the wheel, or the cox’n at the tiller of a small boat, could steer for it and be sure of an eventual safe landfall.