Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

Arthur frowned. It was exceedingly frustrating. There was no prospect of a direct assault across the river without enduring heavy losses. But by the time they crossed upstream, Soult could have slipped away towards Galicia; or, worse still, he might steal a day’s march on Arthur and head south towards Lisbon or Badajoz to link up with Marshal Victor. In either case, the tables would have been turned on the British.

As he stared across the river an officer came trotting across the terrace towards him and drew up breathless to stand stiffly to attention. Arthur recognised him as one of the Portuguese-speaking officers serving under Beresford.

‘Colonel Waters, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

The man’s face was flushed with the effort of clambering up the hill to the convent, and his expression was animated as he drew sharp breaths to enable him to speak clearly.

‘Beg to report, sir ... I think I have found a way ... to get across the Douro.’

‘What’s that? How?’

Waters turned and pointed upriver, to where the Douro curved round the steep cliffs opposite, just beyond the building Arthur had briefly observed the evening before.

‘Just there, sir. I was down there this morning, scouting along the river bank looking for any boats the enemy might have missed. That’s when I encountered a barber.’

‘Barber? What nonsense is this?’

‘The barber came from Oporto, sir. He crossed the river in a small rowing boat. He was quite excited and claimed to have discovered some unguarded wine barges on the far bank. There was a local priest and a handful of labourers nearby and I persuaded them to cross the river and help retrieve the barges.’ Waters paused as he noticed the impatient expression on his superior’s face. ‘Long and short of it is that we now have four wine barges hidden in the reeds on our side of the Douro, opposite that convent there. I searched that too, sir. It seems to have been abandoned.’

Arthur raised his telescope and examined the section of river Waters had indicated. It was perhaps as much as four hundred yards wide, and any attempt to cross it in full view of the French would have been suicidal. However, that part of the river was not in full view of the enemy, Arthur realised. It was very likely that it was obscured by the tall cliffs on the far side. As he scanned the bank by the empty convent, he did not see any sign of French soldiers.

Snapping the telescope shut Arthur turned to Waters with a faint smile. ‘Fine work. Well then, let the men cross.’

He turned to call Somerset to him and quickly explained the situation. ‘Get the third regiment of foot down there as quickly as you can, but find a route where they won’t be spotted by the French. They are to use the barges to cross and occupy that convent. As soon as that is done, we’ll start feeding more troops across. With luck we’ll be there in strength before Soult is aware of it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset hurried off.

Arthur turned back to Waters.‘I should imagine you will want to be involved in this?’

‘Indeed, sir.Yes.’

‘Very well, you may join the assault party. Good luck to you.’

Once Waters had made off Arthur turned to examine the far bank again through his telescope. There was still no sign of any life near the convent. None at all. It was something of a surprise that Soult had neglected to guard this stretch of river. But then perhaps Soult was the kind of officer who neglected to do a full reconnaissance of his position. Or perhaps he was so imbued with the contempt with which French commanders seemed to view their enemies that he was blind to the danger. Arthur smiled. If that was the case then Marshal Soult was about to receive a very rude shock indeed.

The wine barges could each hold up to thirty men, and as soon as they had crept down into the reeds on the near bank of the Douro the first company of redcoats clambered aboard. There were over six hundred men in the battalion, and the men of the following companies crouched low in the reeds to wait their turn to cross. The barges were propelled by two sweeps, long oars manned by two men, on each side, and once the barges had been punted free of the reeds and out into the river the men began to pull on the oars. Since they were soldiers and not sailors, the progress was slow and graceless, but within a quarter of an hour the first barge had grounded on the far bank.There was still no sign of the enemy as the soldiers of the Third Foot splashed into the shallows and surged ashore. Colonel Waters thrust his arm out towards the silent convent as the other barges grounded.

‘Follow me, boys!’

He ran across the stony ground, which was broken by spiky clumps of aloe, and burst through the gates into the courtyard that surrounded the convent.The walls were solid masonry, covered in plaster, and stood eight feet high. To one side of the courtyard stood piles of timber and other building materials and Waters guessed that the structure must be undergoing some kind of renovation work.

‘We need firing steps,’ Waters decided, and turned to the nearest officer, a burly lieutenant. ‘Get your men to work. I want firing steps around the perimeter wall. Fast as you can.’

Leaving the soldiers to set to work,Waters climbed the convent’s bell tower and noted with satisfaction that the men who had been left to work the barges were already rowing back to the far bank to fetch the next company. It was going to be slow work, he realised. If the French spotted the danger and reacted quickly enough they could still hold the north bank, provided they could capture the convent that covered the landing point. He turned and looked down into the courtyard.The first company across looked like a pitifully small number to do the job. If only there was time to land an entire battalion before the French realised what was happening, they could hold the convent long enough to cover the landing of a force strong enough to assault the main French army in Oporto.

As the morning dragged on, the barges rowed steadily to and fro, bringing in more and more troops until over five hundred men were lining the walls of the convent, warily watching for the first sign of a French attack.

On the far bank Arthur watched their progress in a state of tense excitement. Incredibly, the crossing had not yet been detected, but even as he watched a sudden movement on the cliffs opposite drew his attention. Tiny figures in blue coats were picking their way along the rocks at the top. Sunlight glittered off gold braid, and raising his telescope Arthur saw that it was a party of officers. If they continued any further they must surely see the barges crossing the river away to their left. For a few more minutes he observed the French officers, until he saw one of them halt, stare for a moment and then thrust his arm down towards the river. The other officers hurried over, and their leader, whose uniform was gaudy with gold lace, gesticulated towards the convent.A moment later the party began to retrace its steps, leaving two of their number on watch.

Arthur snapped his telescope shut and swiftly gave orders for one of his orderlies to get down to the river and warn Colonel Waters that the enemy was now wise to the crossing. Then, quitting the terrace, Arthur hurried through the convent and mounted the horse waiting outside. He spurred it up the track leading to the heights on which he had positioned his heaviest guns the day before. The batteries were commanded by Major Harris, a thin officer in his forties, and he rose from the shade of an olive grove as his general came galloping up.

‘Harris, do you see that track there?’ Arthur pointed across the river. ‘Leading down from the cliff to the convent. ‘See it?’

Harris squinted a moment before he made out the route indicated. ‘I see it, sir.’