Kings and Emperors

“Yes, a junta,” Dalrymple continued, “which had been pressing General Castaños to declare for them, and raise a general rebellion in Western Andalusia. Castaños has already written me for British aid should he decide to act. He has raised the idea of evacuating the fortress of Ceuta, and adding those troops, and some of the fortress’s lighter ca

“By Jove, that’d be grand!” General Spencer exclaimed. “What’s stopping him, then?”

“That would be the other largest force of Spanish troops in Cádiz, Sir Brent,” Mountjoy told him, dashing cold water on Spencer’s enthusiasm. “The governor of Cádiz is decidely pro-French, and, with the French warships that escaped into port after Trafalgar to count on to defend him, he could put down any rebellion.”

“They can’t get to sea, with Admiral Purvis watchin’ them,” Lewrie supplied, “but they could add their gunfire to defeat any attempt to take Cádiz … or bombard the city if the citizens arose against the governor. Their crews could hold the port’s forts if the troops at Cádiz march on Castaños if he does join the junta.”

“You have no news from that quarter, Mister Mountjoy?” Sir Hew asked.

“A tough nut to crack, sir, sorry to say,” Mountjoy said with a frown, and a shake of his head. “I’ve had no luck at getting an … a source in. Not for long.”

“A spy, you’re saying?” General Spencer barked as if someone had just cursed him. “That your line of work, is it, sir?”

“Someone must gather intelligence for military operations,” Lewrie said, defending him. “Else, you swan off into terra incognita, deaf, dumb, blind, and get your … fundaments kicked.”

“Much of a piece with cavalry videttes making scouts, and gallopers to bring news of enemy movements,” Sir Hew grudgingly allowed. “Regrettably necessary, at times. General Castaños informs me that he is also short of arms to give to volunteers whom he expects to come forward once the junta in Seville declares. I have on hand in the armouries at least one thousand muskets, with bayonets, cartridge pouches, and accoutrements, and I think I may spare about sixty thousand pre-made cartridges for that purpose, and shall write London to ask for more, at once. If the Spanish wish to send ships to Ceuta, we will allow them to do so.”

“And I finally get the fortress, without a long siege, ah hah!” General Spencer cried, clapping his hands in delight. He’d spent long months, cooling his heels, once it was realised that Ceuta had been re-enforced, and could not be taken without a larger army.

“Oh, I fear not, Sir Brent,” Dalrymple said with the faintest of smiles on his face. “In light of these new developments, I think that your brigade-sized force would be of more use nearer to Cádiz. That part of your original force, which was sent on to Sicily earlier, I shall recall to join you after you’ve made a lodgement. To encourage the junta, and General Castaños.”

“Ehm … make a lodgement exactly where, Sir Hew?” Spencer asked in sudden shock at a new, even more dangerous, assignment.

“Well, so long as the forts are in the hands of the pro-French governor, it would have to be somewhere near Cádiz proper,” Mountjoy declared, then turned to Lewrie and raised a brow to prompt him.

“Anyone have a sea chart?” Lewrie asked.

General Dalrymple did not, but an aide-de-camp managed to turn up a map of the city and its environs, after a frantic search.

“Hmm, there’s this little port of Rota, though that’s a bit far from the city,” Lewrie opined after a long perusal. “Closer into the area, there’s Puerto de Santa María, on the North side of the bay.”

“Captain Lewrie became very efficient at landing and recovering troops along the coast last Summer,” Sir Hew said. “If you choose to land near Cádiz, he’s your man.”

“Well, we only put three companies ashore at one time, sir, for quick raids,” Lewrie had to qualify, “without packs or camp gear, rations and ammunition, and no artillery, no horses. If you have to depend on your transports’ crews to row your men in, it’ll take forever, they’re so thinly ma

“At present, just a bit over three thousand,” Spencer said, “a little over one brigade. Daunting. Have the French sent one of their armies to Cádiz?”

“General Castaños tells me that there is a French brigade in the city, under a Brigadier Avril,” Dalrymple said. “So far, at least, the French have left San Roque and Algeciras alone.”

“You could not enter Cádiz itself, sir,” Mountjoy warned them, “even if the Spanish juntas were suddenly in charge. They would not allow a ‘second’ Gibraltar under British rule. Their touchy Spanish pride is too great for that.”

“I will send for transports, and obtain an escort from Admiral Purvis, now blockading Cádiz,” Dalrymple declared. “Boats from those warships, ma

“Or, where the Spanish let you,” Mountjoy cautioned again.

“We have some idle transports in port, already, troopers, and supply ships,” Dalrymple said. “Captain Lewrie, you and your ship will go along as part of the escort. Depending upon whom Purvis sends me, you may be senior in command of the escort, and the co-ordination.”

“I was wondering why I was summoned, sir. Aye,” Lewrie said, gri

“Then let us have a drink, to seal the bargain, as it were,” Dalrymple happily proposed.

Well, that’s one way t’end my bordeom, Lewrie thought as wine and glasses were fetched; but if I get pressed into Admiral Purvis’s fleet, will I ever see Gibraltar again, or Maddalena?

At least it would beat the sight of Ceuta, or hauling cattle from Tetuán, all hollow.

BOOK TWO

Therefore let every man now task his thought

That this fair action may on foot be brought.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, THE LIFE OF HENRY THE FIFTH, (ACT I, SCENE II, 309–310)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Should we hoist a broad pendant and name you a Commodore, sir?” Lt. Westcott proposed, craning his neck to look aloft. “Even if it’d be the lesser sort—”

“An Army general gave the orders, and he don’t count,” Lewrie countered, looking upwards himself. “No, I may command the escorting force … such as it is … but Admiralty’d never stand for it. I’ll stand on as I am.”

He lowered his gaze to the clutch of troop ships and supply vessels that wallowed along in passably decent order astern of his two-decker. All that could be scraped up at short notice to protect the convoy was a 32-gun frigate, a Sixth Rate sloop of war mounting but twenty light guns, and two brig-sloops. Lewrie knew that the French warships left over from the Battle of Trafalgar, now closely blockaded in Cádiz, would never come out to harm his charges, but there were still rumours that a large squadron of French ships at Rochefort, and some frigates in the mouth of the Gironde River near Bordeaux, could sortie at any time. Those rumours kept him up at night, and he secretly hoped that he could get General Spencer’s troops ashore, and the merchant ships away, without opposition, so they would no longer be his responsibility.

“Damn these perverse winds, and the currents!” he spat.

Since leaving Gibraltar on the fourteenth of May, and rounding Pigeon Island into the Strait, they had proceeded at a slug’s pace, hobbled by the in-rushing current into the Mediterranean. Sailing “full and by” hard on the wind for several days might seem swift and bracing, but that was an illusion, for their overall speed over the ground resulted in only a few miles per hour. The convoy’s first leg, a long board Sou’west, only got them a few miles West of Parsley Island before they had to tack and cross the Strait to halfway ’twixt Pigeon Island and Tarifa. The second tack Sou’west had fetched them close to the Moroccan city of Alcazar, and the third had gotten them five miles East of Tarifa.