The Confrontation at Salamanca

by Geoffrey Watson

  Evans became philosophical afterwards. “Messy, it was, Sir Joshua. I allowed them time to think and that was a mistake. Always before, we were the smaller and luring them to attack was the way the game had to be played.

  Now, it is as big or bigger we are and still it is better to catch them unawares. Convenient hidey-holes have been the places we looked for to use ourselves. I now have to make sure that we catch them where nothing is handy for them to hide in.”

  “Always keep on thinking and learning, Dai. It worked out well in the end, but thank all those hours spent training, that enabled Don Luis to think quickly enough to help yew out of yor little scrape. Be suitably grateful to him. It shall do wonders for their morale to know how badly we needed them in this case.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “That then is the situation at the present time, Sir Home. My informants with the guerrilla forces tell me that your raids on the French-held ports east of Bilbao have drawn most of the available troops from the Army of the North. Apart from the garrison, estimated at less than three thousand, there is not a French soldier within forty miles of Santander.

  Your two commanders of marines tell me that their men are ready and thoroughly versed in what they must do. They have had reconnaissance parties on shore, examining the defences. Landings on the north and eastern tips of the Santander peninsular are proposed whenever the weather permits.”

  Algernon Cholmondeley was once more seated comfortably in Admiral Popham’s cabin in his flagship, hove-to with his squadron within easy distance of the great bay that gave shelter to the port of Santander. He was trying his best to paint an optimistic picture of what was intended to be a major sea assault on one of the two principal French garrisons and larger ports on the Biscay coast.

  It would be the culmination of Popham’s campaign against the Biscay ports; a campaign that had been conducted with mixed success against smaller ports and fishing harbours. The success or failure of each assault had assumed a far greater importance to Sir Home Popham than was warranted in terms of the success of his overall mission.

  Lord Wellington had asked the Admiralty to provide a diversion in the Biscay provinces that would stop the Army of the North sending reinforcements to Marshal Marmont. Even the failures in Popham’s campaign had forced Caffarelli to use his reserves and march to the aid of the threatened garrisons, thus fulfilling Wellington's requirements.

  Of course, in spite of Cholmondeley’s encouragement, a failed landing was a failure in the eyes of the admiral. As he was a very newly promoted rear admiral in his first independent command, such things assumed a much greater importance. A failure against a major port like Santander was not to be contemplated and Lieutenant Colonel Cholmondeley was working hard to convince him that all would be successful this time.

  “Being in a wide, sheltered bay and shielded from the open sea by a peninsular, the northern defences of the town are less daunting than the southern ones. I cannot envisage that the landing of your force shall be opposed, or even noticed if your boats reach shore at dawn.

  The cliffs there are two hundred and fifty feet high, but shall not be an obstacle for fit marines. Guns cannot be landed there, but it is possible for the town’s defences and moles and jetties to be bombarded from the sea.

  As I promised you, I am ready to resume command of my battalion of Hornets. They are presently hidden within ten miles. On the morning of your landings I propose to assail the southern defences with my men and also the five hundred marines that Commodore Cockburn has attached to us. We shall hope to catch them by surprise and breach their southern defences. If that should not be possible, it shall certainly take their eyes from the north and your men shall be at the walls before they are aware.”

  The admiral was clearly uncomfortable and Cholmondeley knew why. He still did not relish sharing any of the credit for success with forces not under his control. That applied particularly to the First Battalion of the Hornets and the five hundred Royal Marines detached from Commodore Cockburn’s ‘rival’ squadron.

  “I owe much to your liaison with the Spanish irregular and regular forces, Colonel Chumley. Also your help and advice given to my force of marines has been invaluable. I have said so in my despatches to the Admiralty.

  The contribution of your battalion and the partisan forces in clearing the French from the Asturias has also had my commendation.

  Now, I am committing most of my marines, both English and Spanish to the assault on Santander at dawn in three days time, when the high tide shall give us the greatest assistance.

  We shall outnumber the garrison by three to one and I do not anticipate that they shall resist for more than a couple of days. I shall appreciate it therefore, if you shall deploy your forces to bar the way to any relieving column that may arrive at an inauspicious moment."

  As with all the rest of the high ranking Hornet commanders, Cholmondeley was young for the rank that he held. It should be considered that he had earned it entirely on merit and not because his family had paid out thousands of pounds to purchase it.

  He had been delighted and flattered when he had received his promotion, but did not feel that it needed to be justified to anyone. He had no doubt that others were just as competent as he was and acknowledged that good fortune had played its part, particularly after he had acted like a complete ass when first he had met Welbeloved at Talavera.

  That someone would manipulate events to their own advantage to achieve success was quite understandable, if not particularly acceptable, but it happened all the time and often resulted in the promotion of such people to positions beyond their competence.

  It was when such manipulation resulted in unnecessary loss of life that he really took exception. The state of mind that set greater value on the victory of a winning commander if half his men were killed, rather than securing a brilliant success for the loss of none at all; was beyond his understanding.

  Thinking about it he really did wonder whether he would have made a good regimental officer if he had not been asked to try for the Hornets. The unthinking acceptance of enormous losses of so many men in a mindless exchange of musket fire between two opposing lines was morally wrong. More than that; and with his Hornet training to judge by; it was so damned inefficient.

  It was evident that he was most unhappy when he returned to resume command of his battalion and MacKay took the time, patiently to wheedle the story out of him.

  It made him feel old. Only five years separated them, but Algy looked ten or even fifteen years younger. Now that MacKay was a father, his reaction was almost paternal.

  “Other than wi’ the Hornets, Algy, I cannae recall that ye hae served as a regimental officer in any action.” He held his hand up to stop his friend interrupting. “I ken ye were at Talavera, where ye first met Sir Joshua, but ye were on Wellington’s staff at the time and riding about risking your ain life, not marching men intae line, tae stand and be shot down by the enemy.

  Well, neither hae I. Fourteen years ago I was a young marine and had never seen action. Joshua Welbeloved joined my ship as First Lieutenant tae Commander Cockburn, who was captain of the Iron Delly or Hirondelle tae the Frogs we took her from.

  Mr. Welbeloved had fought the French and the American colonists as a boy and had seen redcoats slaughtered by American hunters using accurate rifles. He never believed in that type o’ warfare again. He taught a few o’ us tae improve our muskets and shoot properly and very soon we had half-a-dozen Fergusons that he and Cockburn had bought wi’ their prize money.

  That old skinflint, Lord Keith, then saw how we used them and gave us another batch. We had a sma’ band o’ Hornets; although we never thought o’ calling them that then; playing havoc a’ round the Mediterranean and hae been using Hornet tactics ever since.

  None o’ our people can be happy wi’ mass slaughter, but it is the only way most generals ken how tae fight. We can nae change them. All we can dae is what Cockburn and Welbeloved were wont tae dae; read our orders very car
efully and feel free tae dae anything that is nae specifically forbidden.

  Lord Wellington understands this, which is why he rarely gi’es us orders. Popham hae been told that he cannae gie us orders and frae what ye say, he has only requested that we keep the French away frae his personal war.

  We may easily dae that by using Cockburn’s marines tae act as sentries and that leaves us free tae meddle. In the interest o’ good relations we dae nae need tae upset the admiral, but his marines shall find it difficult tae penetrate the French defences by themselves.

  Hae ye considered that our lads could use their skills tae prepare a way intae Santander in the south? I wager that they are the part o’ the defences that Popham’s men shall leave until the last. Your personal relations wi’ Colonel Santana are such that a mere suggestion frae ye shall focus his entire attention. I shall leave ye tae consider the matter.

  I shall also leave ye tae reflect on the fact that when ye dae something that is nae in your orders, it has tae succeed. The wrath o’ those o’ superior rank, but inferior thinking shall descend upon the perpetrators o’ failure like a thunderbolt frae Jove. When it succeeds they shall be too busy claiming the credit.”

  * * *

  The assault on Santander did not seem all that difficult for a naval force of reasonable strength. It would be advisable, nay desirable, for a strong contingent to be landed on the north of the peninsular to march south and occupy the attention of the garrison troops manning the landward defences.

  At the same time, the two seventy-four gun third rates could sail past the land fortifications and direct their broadsides against any artillery protecting the docks and wharves of the harbour itself.

  A large flotilla of boats, following behind, could then land an assault party of marines right in the heart of the port. The garrison could be attacked from inside and outside the defences and ought to realise the hopelessness of further resistance.

  The special reconnaissance parties that Cholmondeley had formed had already reported on the outer defences and suitable landing zones on the peninsular, but had not been able to penetrate into the harbour area itself.

  That in itself did not have to be important. The seventy four heavy guns that made up the broadsides of the two ships of the line had to be capable of overwhelming the few inner harbour emplacements. After all, the biggest calibre that the army could bring to bear was normally only twelve pounds.

  The task did not sound difficult, but the Royal Navy was about to rediscover the disadvantages of attacking land based artillery that had solid, steady standing for their guns, as against the moving, swaying decks of third rates that forced the gunners to fire when their barrels were moving in all directions at once.

  The two ships did a deal of damage, though not necessarily only to the French guns. They were well placed and could be moved to different positions to follow the ships and ensure that every shot counted.

  It was a large lagoon and, having forced an entrance, the ships had to get out again through a narrow passage between an extensive sand bar and a heavy gun emplacement at the end of the harbour emplacements. Not only that, but they had to escape quickly, having done whatever damage they could. They may catch the heavy guns unprepared when going in, but smoke over the harbour entrance gave emphasis to the possibility of heated shot being available on the way out. A heavy iron ball only needed to be placed over a roaring fire for half an hour and any ship would be a blazing wreck that had one or two of them lodged in her timbers.

  Fortunately for the marines following behind, it had been a long, hard pull for the seamen at the oars and they were far enough behind the two third rates to realise that they would have no protection whatever against the storm of grape shot that the ships had been unable to suppress. Only the first dozen boats were advanced enough to be reduced to complete bloody wrecks. The rest of the flotilla turned smartly about and rowed out to sea again.

  Having beaten off the opening attack quite comprehensively, the French were on a high state of alert, anticipating further assaults. The Spanish and Royal Marines were left metaphorically sucking their thumbs. The defences around the port needed to be breached by siege artillery and the gentle cloud of smoke hovering over the entrance battery showed that any wooden ship would now have to run a lethal gauntlet just to get inside the harbour.

  On the second day, half a dozen thirty-two pounders were landed from the flotilla, together with a couple of indecently large carronades. They were set up opposite two promising areas where the protecting masonry appeared less maintained than elsewhere. They started a bombardment from a distance that was not going to produce much effect on the walls for a week or more.

  Everywhere, among the besiegers, there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm and urgency and it appeared that both sides were going through the motions with very little expectation of any sort of conclusion.

  Everyone knew that it could not last. The initial assault was noisy enough to alert every Frenchman on the far side of the lagoon. Caffarelli would probably hear about it within a couple of days. Another day would see the first columns of a relief force on the march and they could be within sight of Santander in another three days. The allies had less than a week to get in or go away.

  MacKay was keeping a very close watch on all the proceedings, but leaving everything to Cholmondeley. He reasoned that total immersion on the task in hand would move things along as quickly as he could have done himself. At the same time it would help the lad; he still thought of him as a lad in spite of his promotion; to better control the fury that he was feeling, if not showing.

  Algy had been talking to Colonel Santana, who was almost as angry as he was, if maybe for slightly different reasons. He had selected the Spanish commander more for the fact that he spoke no english, than consciously making a distinction between the Spanish and Royal Marines. He reasoned that Popham was more likely to remain in ignorance for longer, if any careless talk needed translating.

  On the previous night, each of his company commanders had selected a number of volunteers from his company. All of these men had proved particularly adept at the art that had been perfected by the Hornets’ Swiss mountain man, Johan Thuner, now a lieutenant with the Spanish battalion.

  In the dead of night, each squad had examined a section of the defences around the port. They wanted to know what the condition was of the stones and mortar used in constructing the barrier and, of more importance, what was the state of alertness of the French sentries guarding it.

  Ideally, what they were seeking was an area that could be climbed by their specialists, but that gave the impression of impregnability by reason of height, stoutness of construction and difficulty of approach with conventional siege material such as ladders.

  Algy’s reasoning was that if it looked impossible, both to attackers and defenders, it was far less likely to have concentrations of sentries at a time when the Hornets were most active.

  Nothing was ever ideal, but two positions were selected that offered most of what they needed. Enough of their iron spikes were eased into holes and cracks to enable a man to reach the top; there to spend the rest of the night making meticulous observations about the routine of the guards, the length of time of one man’s period of duty and the likely position of the guard room.

  The next day was spent resting and fabricating many more of the iron spikes that they would be needing. Cockburn had made available enough tarred rope to string between the spikes and provide almost a spider’s web of support for the less agile of the marines.

  In the late afternoon, Cholmondeley rode to talk to Colonel Santana and confirm the role that his Spanish marines would take in the hours before dawn. He then rode on to talk to Major MacKenzie and apologise for his ‘oversight’ in talking only to the Spaniards.

  He wanted MacKenzie to have a role in the proceedings, both for the marines investing the port and for those still in reserve, on board their transports. That he was giving the major too little time to organise w
hat he wanted, he was very aware, but MacKenzie understood tacitly and made no objection. He rushed away to do what he could in the time left to him.

  Two merged squads of Hornets moved in after dark. Even working silently, so that the sentries were quite unaware of their activity, there was a network of ropes available by midnight that would enable a dozen men at a time to gain the parapet.

  At midnight, all the guns had been concentrated close to the north-eastern end of the defences and opened fire altogether on the stonework near to the town gate. After half an hour, the bombardment would cease and MacKenzie’s Royal Marines would advance with ladders to attempt an escalade of the wall and force entry if possible.

  There was always the possibility that they might succeed, but the main object of the exercise was to create a diversion that would draw defenders to the threatened area and ensure that sentries in other areas had their attention fully occupied.

  Not that it was essential that the Hornets had the distraction. Within five minutes after the start of the bombardment, there were no sentries left within fifty yards of the climbing nets and a thousand Spanish marines were moving to the bottom of the wall at each climb. It was to conceal this movement that the distractions were intended.

  Also at this time, Cholmondeley had permitted himself a small deviation from his plan. One of the netted areas was quite close to a town gate and the descent from the wall into the town would have to be by knotted rope for lack of unguarded steps.

  Captain Colston led his B Company into the town down the ropes within ten minutes of the guns’ opening shots. Two platoons followed him down the ropes and moved directly to the gatehouse. The other two platoons broke into the gatehouse from the entry at the top of the wall.

  With black-faced demons coming at them from above and from the rear, the hundred men in the garrison lost only a dozen of their number to the long knives of the Hornets before being subdued completely.