Julian Stockwin - Tenacious

"Well, spit it out, man!" Kydd said, helping himself to the last of the haunch of rabbit.

"It was only a brief visit, sir. As you'll know, it had been British for twenty years before. The people were used to our ways and, dare I say it, contented with their lot, for the Spanish rule was not always welcome to your average Minorcan. There are two main towns—Ciudadela to the west and Port Mahon to the east. The Spanish kept mainly behind the city walls of Ciudadela while we were happy with Mahon. A first-class harbour, it is, splendid careening and repair, fine quarters ashore in English style and guarded by great forts. Should this be our base in the future, why, I cannot think of a finer."

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 pro-tection—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?"