As they began the walk back to their mules, a frustrated di Borgo joined them.
‘It is always thus,’ he said in French, though quiet enough that only the British could hear. ‘No matter that they swear loyalty to the general and the cause of Corsican independence, the moment there is any dispute or sign of conflict, they form into clans, and old resentments and disputes from three generations past bubble up as though these things occurred only yesterday. I am ashamed for my people. They are like children in this.’
In his anger and frustration he ranged ahead of the visitors, leaving Hayden to look around and notice that the militiamen no longer mingled freely as they walked but stayed in two antagonistic groups that had formed only a quarter of an hour before. They muttered among themselves and cast resentful glances at the others. Hayden had the feeling that if di Borgo had not been so close to Paoli he might not have been able to end this dispute. Blood could have been spilled… seemingly, over a musket. How were the British ever to drive out the French with such allies?
A plague on both your houses, Hayden thought.
The French scurried about like industrious insects, digging a nest into the grey-brown earth. Seven hundred feet above and some eight hundred yards distant, the British officers – army and Navy – fixed glasses upon the earthworks being thrown up below.
‘They call it the Convention Redoubt,’ di Borgo told them.
Colonel Moore gazed down upon this scene through his glass. ‘Given that the French are cutting off the heads of anyone not sufficiently ardent in support of the revolution, it could hardly have been christened otherwise,’ Moore observed, keeping his eye fixed on the efforts below. ‘That is Fornali Bay, then, to the right?’
‘Yes,’ di Borgo agreed. ‘There is another battery just beyond the trees.’ He pointed to the hillside above the little bay.
Fornali Bay formed an irregular, narrow triangle that cut back into the island between two hills – an inlet opening onto the much larger bay. Anchored fore and aft, near to the northern shore, were two frigates, both well under cover of the guns above. On the hill to the right, or south, of the bay stood a small stone tower with but a single gun visible. Below this, and to the left, just to be made out through a stand of trees, a battery had been raised on a meagre, near-level shoulder. To the left of the little bay the French were busy constructing their redoubt with the industry of men expecting imminent attack. All of these positions were arranged to repel assaults from the sea, and were open at the rear – a fact not lost on any of the military men gazing down on this scene from above. The French, Hayden realized, were confident that no guns could be carried to the hilltops behind, and it was easy to imagine why.
Across the larger bay, perhaps a mile and a half distant, grey buildings apparent in the sun, stood the town of San Fiorenzo and the old, stone fortress where most of the troops, according to the Corsicans, were stationed.
Pivoting in his place, Hayden turned his telescope to the north, following the undulating coastline until he found the tower on Mortella Point. This was of an entirely different nature from the small tower below – which was only a watch-tower, really. Round and squat, the tower of Mortella reputedly had walls fourteen feet thick. Captain Linzee had taken it the previous October with a single frigate, but the Corsicans, to whom it had been delivered, were unable to hold it and the French had taken it back.
‘So that is the Martello tower,’ Kochler said, his own glass following Hayden’s.
‘Mortella,’ Hayden corrected before he thought better of it.
‘Did Lord Hood not say Martello?’ Kochler protested, glancing at his comrade.
‘He did,’ Moore agreed, ‘but one can hardly correct an admiral.’
‘Unlike lowly majors,’ Kochler noted, indignantly.
Hayden might have apologized had not Kochler been so continually discourteous to him.
Kochler glanced up at Hayden, making clear his silent affront, then back into his glass. ‘The Martello Tower fell rather easily to a frigate I am told. It must have been manned by French sailors.’
‘I don’t know who manned it,’ Hayden replied, ‘but Captain Linzee took it in a hard-fought exchange.’
‘Hard fought?’ Kochler said, and looking up at Hayden he waved a hand towards the Convention Redoubt. ‘You will be up against French army regulars, now, Captain, not sailors; do not expect them to break and run the first time you fire a gun. You will actually have to fight them.’
Before Hayden could respond to this insult, Moore literally stepped between them. ‘Is it not enough that there can be no accord between our superiors? Those of us who will actually fight these battles cannot afford such pettiness. I do beseech both of you to remember that such antipathy can only aid our enemies and create ill will between ourselves.’
‘If there is ill will it did not begin with us,’ Kochler responded, his choler rising. He turned his gaze upon Hayden, anger overriding his judgement. ‘Your admiral has passed up no opportunity to smear the reputation of the army. We were blamed for the loss of Toulon though the general told Hood the city could never be held. And now, if Corsica is not emptied of the French, and quickly, the army will be condemned, though if we succeed it will be the Navy who will claim the victory.’
‘Major!’ Moore said forcefully. ‘This will never do! Captain Hayden has made every effort to aid and befriend us. This criticism is misplaced. I will not have this in my command. If you cannot work in harmony with the Navy then tell me so and I will return you to Gibraltar.’
Hayden felt his own heart pounding for he had taken such offence at the man’s manner and words he had been about to demand satisfaction. Moore, however, ever the voice of reason, was right, and the part of Hayden that was not in a rage knew it.
Kochler made no answer to Moore; nor did he offer to apologize to Hayden for a moment but then he relented a little. ‘For the sake of this enterprise,’ he said, clearly neither mollified nor repentant, ‘I shall refrain from speaking the truth regarding this subject. Do accept my regrets, Captain; clearly this is not the time to bring forward such matters.’
‘Bring them forward at a time of your choosing, Major, and I shall be happy to satisfy you upon every count.’ Co-operation with the army, Hayden was willing to attempt, but he would not suffer such offences.
Kochler made a little half-bowing nod of the head in Hayden’s direction.
Moore was clearly unhappy with both of them and said, in a tone of exasperation, ‘There is much to be done. Let us move down towards the tower on Mortella Point. I should like to see it closer to, and discover if there is a place where the major thinks a battery might be erected.’
Beneath an air of strain, the British officers walked north-north-west, among their honour guard of Corsicans, towards the mouth of the larger bay of San Fiorenzo. The walking was not easy, up and down rugged slopes, and Hayden was soon hot from exertion.
The line of hills they followed parallelled the nearby shore, more or less, and to their left lay a deep valley with a narrow stream hidden at the bottom. Both Moore and Kochler had remarked, unable to conceal their concern, that moving guns over such a landscape would be arduous if not impossible.
‘Certainly we can drag a small howitzer or two up here,’ Kochler observed, though he did not sound confident even of that. He turned in a small circle so that he might examine the landscape, his mouth turned down and gaze half-focused.
‘What think you, Captain?’ Moore enquired of Hayden.
‘I am quite certain that sailors could manage it,’ Hayden replied, and immediately felt both foolish and childish.
‘I am sure each of you will toss a pair of howitzers in your pockets and stroll up here over the course of a leisurely morning,’ Kochler said.
‘Major Kochler…’ Moore intoned a warning.
‘I am but jesting, sir,’ Kochler responded, ‘in an attempt to ease all misunderstandings with Captain Hayden. I have no doubt the sailors will surmount all difficulties a
nd bear guns up to the appointed outlooks. Their zeal cannot be questioned. Their officers without parallel.’
‘I do understand your disdain for sea officers, Major,’ Hayden responded. ‘We are clearly all fools. How else could you describe a man who spends ten years at sea, in all seasons, to become a mere master and commander? An intelligent man would simply invest six and a half thousand pounds to procure a commission in some fashionable regiment, remove to London and while away his evenings at White’s.’
Kochler did not reply but walked quickly on, stopping now and again to quiz the shore and the lie of the land with his glass, lingering over every shrub, every outcropping of weathered stone. If he had heard Hayden, and certainly he had, he made no sign of it other than a slight stiffness to his posture and his refusal to look in Hayden’s direction. Apparently, Hayden’s riposte had struck too close to home, and Kochler knew there was no denial to be made: it was a matter of common knowledge that wealthy young gentlemen did purchase commissions and then spent little or no time with their regiments, but preferred to disport themselves in London’s clubs and less reputable establishments.
For a few moments they stopped to rest and drink water, staring out over the azure bay to the town and hills beyond, and back towards the higher mountains, where clouds hung, as though unable to find their way between the rugged peaks.
‘Landing troops should not prove difficult here; is that not true, Captain Hayden?’ Moore asked, trying to make some conversation, rather than gain real information.
‘These beaches are ideal for our needs,’ Hayden replied, beginning to regret his response to Kochler. Moore’s professionalism shamed him. ‘Beyond the tower on Mortella Point there is a beach of such scale that we could land all of Britain’s armies at once, and with excellent anchorage in the roadstead beyond. The beaches this side of Mortella Point are commanded by the French batteries; we cannot use them except by night and even then it would be a danger.’
‘Do you know, Major,’ Moore said to Kochler, clearly trying to jolly the man out of his ill humour, ‘with the French largely shut up in their towers I think the taking of San Fiorenzo shall be no great thing. With the aid of the Navy we shall manage it most expeditiously.’
‘So men said at the beginning of the American war,’ Kochler growled; he touched his hat, rose, and walked away.
Fifteen
Hayden had arrived at the appointed hour, met at Victory’s rail by a marine who led him below out of some rather unpleasant weather. Shedding oilskins, Hayden took the offered chair outside the admiral’s day cabin and composed himself to wait.
‘Lord Hood has the general with him,’ the admiral’s secretary informed him. ‘I shouldn’t think they will be much longer.’
Hayden, whose hearing had not yet been compromised by the din of cannon fire, could distinguish the admiral speaking within – and though Hood clearly made an effort to keep his voice low, he was not addressing his guest in the most gentle tone.
‘These three days past it was artillery that was lacking. Now it is camp equipage. Tomorrow it will be the season that will not permit it.’
Dundas’s voice equalled Hood’s in discretion but exceeded it wholly in umbrage. ‘I will not send my men into the field without the necessary artillery so that I may satisfy your desire for reputation!’ His hissed whisper shivered with anger. ‘Nor will I send them without food to eat nor proper clothing. We make all haste but the swiftness of our retreat from Toulon left all things in disorder – guns on one ship, infantry on another, equipage… who knows where.’
‘I do not serve my king for personal glory, sir,’ Hood returned, the anger palpable even in such hushed tones. ‘I seek only to expel the French before they have time to fortify their positions. How many more men will be lost through delay? That is what I wonder.’
‘There is more to this than stowing some furniture, knocking flat a few bulkheads and running out the guns,’ Dundas whispered, his voice thickening.
‘There is a great deal more to it!’ Hood shot back. ‘I could ready my own sailors for such an expedition in a tenth the time it has taken the army.’
‘And look where this impulsiveness has led you!’
‘Whatever do you mean, sir!’
‘Toulon could never have been held. It was the height of folly even to consider it.’
‘It would have been the height of folly to not take such a chance – the French fleet offered to us on a platter.’
‘A fleet that is largely afloat and in Jacobin hands!’
An even more heated exchange followed, voices rising, and then Dundas suddenly burst out of the room, stormed by the admiral’s stricken staff, and disappeared. The door was closed softly from within and Hayden waited, no one daring to announce him. An hour passed, before the secretary finally worked up enough nerve to knock timidly upon the door.
Hayden was ushered in to find Lord Hood, standing, hands behind his back, staring out of the gallery windows at the unsettled sea. He turned as Hayden entered, complexion still high from his recent anger.
‘Captain Hayden,’ he mumbled, and then stared at the junior officer a moment as though unable, for the life of him, to remember why Hayden had been sent for. His gaze cleared and he crossed to his work table, snatching up several sheets of paper. ‘I would have your opinion of this.’ He thrust the papers at his visitor. It did not escape Hayden that for a man of advanced years and still in the grip of outrage, Lord Hood’s hand held remarkably steady. ‘It is from Colonel Moore. Read it with all due care; I wish your most considered judgement.’
Hayden took the letter, composed his mind a moment, and began.
Lord Hood:
Agreeably, to your Lordship’s order, I landed in Corsica and waited upon General Paoli. The following is my report upon the different heads of instruction delivered to me by Lieutenant-General Dundas. The first object seems to be the possession of Martello Bay [Hayden took note of the spelling – Moore was more of a courtier than he expected] for the security of the fleet, and to enable it to co-operate effectively with the army when landed. The works which defend the bay are a stone tower with two or three light guns (4-prs) at Martello point, another of the same kind at Fornali. The fort of Fornali consists of a strong battery immediately under the tower, and a redoubt open in the rear lately erected on a height between the towers of Martello and Fornali. In the last there are four guns of different calibres. One hundred and fifty or 200 men from the garrison at San Fiorenzo guard these different works. They are chiefly designed to act against shipping but are commanded by heights in their rear. If these are occupied with cannon the works must be abandoned. The road leading to the heights has generally been thought impracticable for cannon. It is, however, by no means so for light guns or howitzers. I annex a detailed plan, concerted with General Paoli, for an attack on the works of Martello, by landing a body of 500 men with light field pieces at the northern point of the bay, and marching by a path that has been reconnoitred, under cover of the hills, to a place called Vechiagia, which commands within a few hundred yards the new redoubt and the tower of Fornali. The possession of this bay having been secured for the fleet, General Paoli points out the bays of Vechia and Nonza upon the eastern side of the Gulf of Fiorenzo as places proper for the landing of the troops, provisions, ordnance &c.
The army, immediately upon landing, will have to move with a few light guns about a league into the country.
There followed a detailed account for attacking the cities of Bastia and Calvi, which Hayden thought would very likely fall to others. Towards the end of the letter, which was long and of impressive detail, Hayden found Moore’s opinion of the Corsicans, which was very different from that of General Dundas.
The French and the few Corsicans in their interest are confined to the posts I have mentioned by the inhabitants attached to General Paoli who call themselves ‘patriots’ and give the others the name of ‘Jacobins’. Paoli’s men are armed, in general, with fowling-pieces, and turn
out voluntarily with provisions on their back and serve without pay. When their provisions are expended they return home but are succeeded by others in the like manner. Thus, though the individuals fluctuate, a body of men is constantly kept up sufficient to stop the communication of the enemy by land. General Paoli can command at any time for a particular service a considerable body of Corsicans, but he thinks that 2000 will be sufficient to embody as a permanent corps to act with the army. To enable him to do this he requires £4000 immediately, 100 barrels of powder, with proportion of lead and flints, and if possible, 1000 stands of arms. He will endeavour to provide provisions himself, and only wishes that when his people are detached with the British they may occasionally receive rations.
The Corsicans seem to be, in general, a stout, hardy and warlike people, excellent marksmen and well adapted to the country they have to act in. They will be particularly useful in possessing heights, and by surrounding our posts prevent the possibility of surprise.
Hayden returned the letter to Lord Hood, who gazed at him with his sorrowful eyes. ‘And what think you of Moore’s plan?’
Hayden held both Moore and Paoli in the highest regard, but had a single objection to their design. ‘I believe it is an excellent plan, sir, and would admirably have answered given the situation in San Fiorenzo when last we were there.’
Hood nodded as though he had almost expected Hayden to say just this. ‘There have been the inevitable delays, some unavoidable – weather, finding the guns, which were loaded in haste at Toulon – but there has been a great deal of… hesitation that cannot be explained away so kindly. What do you think will await us when finally we land Dundas’s troops?’
Remembering Kochler’s claim that the Navy never passed up an opportunity to damage the reputation of the army, Hayden chose his words with care. ‘The French were cognizant of the British military presence on the island, sir, they could not help but guess why. Certainly all of their fortifications will have been strengthened so that they cannot be so easily attacked from the rear. That is what I would have done.’
A Battle Won Page 31
