06 - Tenacious

by Julian Stockwin

  Bampton stirred. ‘If it becomes so. You’re rather forgetting that it’s been in the hands of the Spanish these sixteen years and they’re not about to present their fortresses to us upon our request. We shall have to fight for them – and this means nothing less than an assault, an amphibious landing. Has anyone here had the joy of going into battle with the army? No?’

  Kydd kept quiet, the ill-fated descent on Guadeloupe in the Caribbean he had experienced as a young petty officer would probably not count.

  ‘Then consider yourselves fortunate. An opinionated and ignorant tribe, I fancy we’ll need every mort of patience we can muster on the day.’

  ‘How’s th’ island defended?’ Kydd asked Dugdale.

  His brow wrinkled. ‘There are big forts on each side of the entrance to Mahon. The biggest as I remember is Fort St Philip, which would stand next to any in Europe, and many minor forts and batteries around and about.’

  Bampton gave a thin smile. ‘It’s as well, then, that I can tell you this is not our task. We shall not be going ashore,’ he announced flatly.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ murmured Adams. ‘But how do you know this?’

  ‘The captain has seen fit to entrust me with certain confidences,’ Bampton said smoothly, ‘and I’m able to tell you that the main task of our squadron under Commodore Duckworth is to defend the landing against any ships of force that the enemy sees fit to send to oppose the assault. We shall see out the operation at sea.’

  Dugdale opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing.

  ‘What is it, Mr Dugdale?’ Bampton said caustically.

  ‘Er, after the late complete destruction of the French at the Nile, surely they have nothing left to throw at us?’

  ‘You are forgetting Cartagena,’ Bampton said heavily, ‘the Spanish battle fleet.’

  ‘And Mallorca,’ added Renzi. ‘It would be strange if the Spanish do not maintain a standing force there for mutual protection – and less than eight leagues to the west from Minorca, half a day’s sail. This could do us a real mischief at the time of our landing even if we have the advantage of surprise. Cartagena is ten times the distance and the issue could be decided before they receive any intelligence and are able to respond.’

  ‘We cannot discount that our intentions against Minorca are known. The Spanish may well be at sea and lying in ambuscade for us,’ Bampton said irritably. ‘In any case, Captain Faulkner has set me a task.’

  Renzi raised an eyebrow. ‘Presumably involving us.’

  ‘As a matter of fact it does. I’m to put before you all that one liaison officer from each ship has been requested by the commodore to attend his councils with the army command.’ He paused. ‘Any officer interested is asked to put himself forward. Should there be none, the commodore will be under the necessity of detailing one himself. As too vital in the management of the ship I am to be excluded, as is Mr Dugdale on account of his junior status. Therefore I am open to suggestions from the remainder.’

  Adams glowered. ‘It’ll be jawing all day, notes and reports all night. Not if I ever have the choice.’

  Renzi stared into space.

  ‘Then I’ll do it,’ Kydd said. ‘At th’ least I’ll get t’ know what’s afoot.’ But foremost in his mind was the possibility of notice and the first chance of seizing any prospect of active service that came his way. Yes – this was a positive, Nelson-style move.

  The secret rendezvous was the line of 40° 25’ north latitude, where it seemed at first glance a mighty fleet was gathered. But closer observation revealed that there were only two ships-of-the-line other than Tenacious, and half a dozen assorted light frigates and cutters; the rest were transports and supply craft. With fifteen enemy ships-of-the-line in Cartagena, or possibly at sea close by, Kydd wondered whether this was showing great confidence – or disastrous folly.

  In the great cabin of the 74, HMS Leviathan, Commodore Duckworth, a large, well-built man with an open, seamanlike face, started proceedings. ‘I have the honour to welcome aboard Lieutenant General Sir Charles Stuart, field officer commanding the expedition.’

  By contrast, Stuart was an aristocratic, sharp-featured officer with an impenetrable air of authority. ‘The reduction of Minorca will not be an easy task,’ he said briskly, ‘but the commodore has assured me of the steadfast support of the navy, and I’m satisfied that the operation may proceed without delay.’

  ‘You’ll understand—’ began Duckworth, getting to his feet, but was interrupted by Stuart’s continuing.

  ‘This officer is my second in command,’ he said, nodding at a short, fierce officer who half rose, revealing the tartans and kilt of a Highland regiment. ‘Colonel the Lord Lynedoch, laird of Balgowan, known in the regiment as Colonel Graham.’

  Duckworth sat heavily. The navy were not to be the leading players on this stage.

  ‘I shall begin with an overview of the enemy force awaiting us. Our information derives from a hodge-podge of sources and is therefore not necessarily reliable, but opposing us are about five thousand troops, some, it seems, heavy dragoons, others garrisoned in the major fortresses guarding Port Mahon, our prime objective.

  ‘There are as well a considerable number of small forts and gun-towers on the coastline, which we would do well to avoid. My intentions in summary are these. Draw near, if you please,’ Stuart said sharply, tapping an opened map with a slender polished stick.

  ‘Although Port Mahon is our objective, the landing will be here in the central north, at the Bay of Fornells – there is a good harbour, quite sufficient to bear our transports and larger ships. Having established ourselves ashore, we drive south to the centre of the island and to the town of Mercadal, here. At this point I will split my forces. One division will press west to invest the administrative capital of Ciudadela on the west coast. This is merely to occupy the Spanish while the more important division strikes east to take Port Mahon from landward. Is this clear?’

  ‘Aye, sir, but I foresee that—’

  ‘We shall have opportunity to discuss your objections later, Colonel. Now to the order of battle. The navy: its primary task is to prevent the Spanish fleet interfering with the landing. But equally vital is the need to keep the expeditionary force well supplied and in a timely manner. Finally, I look to the navy to deny the enemy resupply. Therefore as I have mentioned in another place previously, there will be no role for the navy ashore. The twenty-eighth Regiment of Highlanders, Colonel Paget, will be the main field force and will be accompanied…’

  The flow of military verbiage washed over Kydd as he pondered Stuart’s strategy. It sounded straightforward enough, but even with his limited experience he could think of many reasons why it could all go wrong.

  ‘Now, Colonel Graham, you have objections, sir?’

  ‘I do, sir. In any venture to put troops ashore we are critically reliant on our understanding of the enemy’s positions, that they are not in sufficient numbers to prevent our disembarkation by any means. What intelligence do you have, sir, that encourages you to believe Fornells is open to us?’

  Stuart paused. ‘I do not have direct information, true. There is a species of revolutionary Minorcan zealot opposed to Spanish rule assisting us but their intelligence leaves much to be desired.’ His lips thinned. ‘It were better we rely on our own estimates, Colonel. If it transpires that the enemy presses us too hard in Fornells we must abandon the attempt – and strike elsewhere. Addaya to the east has been mentioned.’

  ‘With respect, sir.’

  ‘Colonel?’

  ‘Just three miles inland there is a road marked, here, passing between the two. If the enemy uses this to transfer forces rapidly between, we will not see them – we will have no warning until they fall upon our exposed landing.’

  ‘Colonel Graham! In war, risks must be taken. The landing must take place somewhere – have you any other suggestion? No? Then, sir, we land as planned in Fornells, accepting casualties if need be. Now, on to the details. In the matter of�
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  ‘Sir!’ Kydd felt the same exhilaration, the same unstoppable conviction that had carried him on to make the fateful decision to hand over his signal codes to the American navy. Now he was stepping forward in a council-of-war to propose a seaman’s solution to an army difficulty.

  Stuart stopped, raising his eyes questioningly.

  ‘Sir, L’tenant Kydd o’ Tenacious – we can’t see th’ soldiers from where we are, coming in fr’m the sea as we will.’

  Stuart continued to look at him stonily, the rest of the cabin turning curiously to look at the usurper. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sir, Minorca is a low island, not many hills as you’d say, but in th’ sea service when we navigate past we always take a sight of Monte Toro, a single mount y’ can see leagues out to sea without ever ye sees the island.

  ‘Should anyone climb t’ the top with a spyglass, then nothing can be hid from him – all th’ motions of the soldiers will be made clear, it bein’ less’n four miles distant, and by this you shall know for a surety in which place to throw in your own forces.’

  Graham thumped the table. ‘Preposterous! How is your spyglass man then going to advise General Stuart? Run helter-skelter back down the mountain?’ There were sniggers from the other army officers. ‘Even with a fast horse—’

  ‘Colonel Graham, I am – er, was, signal l’tenant in HMS Tenacious. Gen’ral Stuart, I’m sure, will be very satisfied should he take intelligence on th’ quarterdeck of Leviathan that informs him hour b’ hour of where the Spanish are. We have a fine enough set o’ signals in the navy we can use for th’ purpose.’

  The murmuring died away as Stuart contemplated Kydd. ‘Possibly. For this it will mean crossing unknown territory occupied by the enemy…’

  ‘Aye, sir, but did I not hear about y’r Minorcan patriots? They c’n see us through t’ the mountain right enough.’

  ‘Commodore?’

  ‘Er, I can see nothing wrong in principle at this stage, sir, but—’

  ‘Mr Kydd, you are prepared that you may be taken up as a spy, as most assuredly you are?’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘One moment, if you please, sir.’ A young army subaltern stood up and banged his head on a deck-beam, which made him sit again abruptly. ‘This is an army operation, sir, and on land. I cannot see how the navy can be expected to recognise military movements. Therefore I do volunteer for the task.’

  Kydd bristled. He swung on the young officer. ‘I think I c’n be trusted to recognise a parcel o’ Spanish redcoats. But can you, sir, tell if the wind is foul f’r a landing if we have to shift from Fornells? I have m’ doubts of it…’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Stuart. ‘But do I understand you to mean that you can undertake to observe the enemy from their rear, signal over their heads to my headquarters at sea to advise on just where their forces are massing to oppose us?’

  ‘Yes, sir – and give ye warning should reinforcements be afoot.’

  ‘Hmmm. Reliably?’

  ‘Sir, a line o’ frigates ahead of a fleet c’n watch sixty miles o’ sea – an’ there’s three hundred signals in the book they can use t’ advise the admiral.’ Kydd did not mention there was no signal hoist in the book he could remember for ‘Fornells’ or ‘marching towards’ or any other military terms for that matter.

  ‘Very well, we will take this forward, Mr Kydd. Be so kind as to consult with the adjutant on how best to proceed.’ Stuart hesitated then declared to the meeting, ‘For the purposes of this operation we press on as before. If – if this signalling fails in its intention we have lost nothing and will resume the assault without the information. However, if your scheme succeeds we will be greatly in your debt, Mr Kydd.’

  Kydd bowed politely, but inwardly he was exulting. He had seized the moment. This was what it was to be a Nelson! He resumed his place, but before he had settled, Duckworth leaned across and said testily, ‘A word with you afterwards at your convenience, Mr Kydd.’

  ‘Say y’r piece, Nicholas, but please t’ make it speedy. The landing is set f’r only two days hence.’ Kydd rummaged in his chest, looking for anything that he could put over his uniform. He had a dim recollection from somewhere that he could not be shot as a spy if he was in uniform.

  ‘Tom, my friend…’

  ‘Do ye lend me y’r watch, I’d be grateful.’

  Renzi untagged the expensive hunter from his waistcoat. ‘It’s not too early to reconsider the plan,’ he said softly. ‘You see, it is not the fear of failure that troubles me, it is your unthinking trust that so many things will go right for you.’

  Kydd stopped and looked directly at Renzi. ‘If Nelson let fear o’ what can go wrong come t’ the front, why, he’d never have sailed against the enemy at the Nile. Nothing was ever won b’ holding back, Nicholas.’

  Renzi bit his lip. ‘Then how will you set up for signals without you provide a mast and halliards?’

  ‘I’ll find a way. Pass the lashing, if y’ please.’

  Renzi tried another tack. ‘If you are taken, you can expect no mercy. There are tales told of the Spanish treatment of prisoners that make ugly—’

  ‘Enough! I have t’ be ready by six bells. If you can’t help, be s’ kind as to stand clear.’ Kydd tested the lashing round a small seaman’s chest. Inside was a full set of naval signal flags and tack lines that would allow the sending of any message in the book. And all the while Tenacious cruised ever closer to Minorca’s east coast for a secret night rendezvous with the revolutionary group.

  ‘What is your plan, brother?’

  ‘Not so rarefied, m’ friend. After we get ashore it’s just four an’ a bit miles to Monte Toro through scrub ’n’ a few farms. We’ve got good charts o’ the island from when we were here in ’eighty-two. I’ve copied a track from them. There’s a path up to th’ top where the ladies used to go for the view an’ up there is just a nunnery. I’ll not disturb ’em if I set up on their roof, I believe.’

  ‘And you can see the Spanish from there?’

  ‘A prime position! Fornells t’ the north, five miles, turn about to the nor’east to Addaya, four miles. An’ with a height of eye up there close t’ a thousand feet there’s nothing that moves I can’t see.’

  Renzi murmured words of general unease as he helped bring the chest on deck.

  ‘Sir, ready in all respects,’ Kydd said to Faulkner.

  ‘Very well. You have no qualms at this stage, Mr Kydd? It is not too late…’

  ‘Ready, sir,’ Kydd said stoutly.

  ‘Then we will proceed. Lookouts to your stations! Mr Pearce?’

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ said the boatswain, and the darkness was suddenly split by the ghostly blue of the light of a flare reflected on sails. It sputtered and fizzed, sending dark shadows dancing about the deck, illuminating the faces of the men. In a few minutes the flare died to red sparks and blackness clamped in once more.

  ‘Absolute silence!’ Long minutes passed. Nothing could be heard but the easy creak of the ship in the placid seas and the distant cry of a seabird. Kydd clutched a rope tightly. Tenacious was his true home, where he had been formed as a king’s officer, faced death and destruction, crossed whole oceans: now he was leaving her warm security for the unknown perils that lay out in the darkness.

  A faint cry came out of the night and was immediately followed by a hail from the foretop. ‘Deck hooooo, an’ it’s three points t’ larb’d.’

  ‘Mr Pearce!’

  ‘Sir.’ He took his speaking trumpet and roared into the night, ‘God save King George!’

  An answering cry came and minutes later a small fishing-boat appeared. The boatswain gave a signal for it to come alongside and Kydd prepared to board. Bowden was standing close. ‘Bear a hand with m’ chest, Mr Bowden,’ he asked, trying to keep the tension from his voice.

  Upturned faces in the boat watched as Bowden passed a hitch round it and went down the side to the boat to receive it from the seamen lowering away.

  Kydd turned for a
farewell sight of his ship and a handshake from the captain. Renzi waited until last – his grip was tight. No words were spoken.

  ‘Good luck t’ ye, sir,’ came a low cry from the anonymous darkness forward, and a lump formed in Kydd’s throat. He lifted an arm in response and went into the boat.

  A jabber of nervous Spanish greeted him and a woman’s voice cautioned, ‘Pons he say as ’ow we must not waste th’ time.’

  Taken aback, Kydd muttered something and took the chest from Bowden. ‘Away y’ go, m’lad,’ he said, ‘an’ thank ye.’

  ‘Can’t do that, sir,’ Bowden said quietly. ‘I’d be disobeying captain’s orders!’

  ‘Wha—’

  ‘He asked me to accompany you, sir.’ Kydd realised that this was probably not the way it had happened, but already the anonymous figure in the bows had poled off and the comforting bulk of Tenacious was receding into the blackness.

  ‘Y’r a rascal, Bowden, but I thank ye all the same.’

  ‘Pons ask you, do not spik – he listen for danger!’ In the sternsheets the woman was close enough for him to be aware of her female scent.

  A darker mass loomed and the boat stopped in the water. The fitful half-moon laid a fragile luminosity over the water, revealing a third figure, whom Kydd presumed to be Pons. He was listening with rigid concentration. At length he signalled to the rower, who skimmed the boat about and glided in to the shore.

  There was just enough light to make out a rickety landing-stage. The boat bumped against it and the rower went forward to secure the painter. Pons stood and made his way clumsily up behind him while Kydd prepared to land on enemy soil.

  There was a flurry of movement in the dimness forward – and in a sudden chill of horror Kydd saw the flash of moonlight on an arc of bright steel and heard a gurgling cry, then a dull splash echoing in the tiny bay.