Then everyone joined in and the slaughter began. Within thirty seconds, every skirmisher realised that to stand or kneel was to be hit by a ball. With that realisation there was no man standing. Both the dead and the alive were flat on the ground and still too far away for their weapons to be effective. Behind them, the lines of heavy infantry were still forming and suddenly could see clearly the powder smoke of their enemy, six or seven hundred yards away.
Welbeloved had been hoping for exactly this situation. He blew the prearranged number of blasts on his whistle and all firing ceased, allowing Don Luis to lead six hundred elated cavalrymen to go hunting skirmishers. The poor wretches had nowhere to run except back to the lines of infantry that were too far away to be of any help at all.
By now, those leading lines of infantry were complete and dressed. There was nothing they could do to help their fleeing skirmishers, but they could get on with their advance.
Drums began to beat out the pace and four ranks of men, two hundred or more yards across, moved forward, thus allowing another four ranks to start deploying behind them.
The lines advanced steadily and after fifty paces, Don Luis decided that enough was enough and that he would leave the remaining skirmishers in peace. He had his bugles sound the retreat. His men were reluctant, but their training had hammered home the need for strict discipline and they trotted disdainfully back to rejoin the Hornets.
Welbeloved eyed the advancing lines of infantry and considered the various ways in which he could slow their further progress. He could certainly do immense damage to them, but not without accepting more casualties than he wished to justify.
The problem was solved for him by a messenger from Vere. He was pulling back to the next but one agreed position. His dragoons had advised him that a lengthy column was probing around his eastern flank and would be capable of encircling both of them in three or four hours. He proposed a joint defence around the small village of Nava del Rey, two or three miles farther south.
It was time to go. He sent the riflemen on their way first. They would have to march back. His Hornets moved casually over onto the reverse slope to collect their horses. They caught up with the greenjackets a mile down the road.
He estimated that he had delayed the French, maybe by as much as a day. He could stop them again at Nava, but only for so long before they swept around his eastern flank to strike toward Salamanca. The entire Anglo-Portuguese army was somewhere in that area. He ought to have given them enough time to re-deploy eastwards far enough to bring both armies into confrontation.
If, as he expected, General Bonnet had finally joined Marmont; and he didn’t think that Marmont would have attacked without him; then there was little to choose between the size of either army.
The stage then, was set for a full-scale battle, that in turn, would be a duel between the opposing commanders. Marmont would be anxious to attack, as all French marshals were encouraged to do.
Wellington would only attack if he could see a battle-winning advantage. Would the highly competent marshal make a mistake and give Wellington his chance or would the whole thing finish in a stalemate with no advantage to either?
CHAPTER 17
Admiral Sir Home Popham was furious, but was doing his level best not to show it. He was civility itself to Lieutenant Colonel Cholmondeley, who was seated comfortably in the stern gallery of Popham’s flagship, relating how the small Spanish reconnaissance party had been landed successfully east of Santander.
After spending the whole night and most of the following morning checking on three small harbours within five miles of each other and talking to local peasants and fishermen, they returned two days later with five hundred Spanish marines.
Instead of rowing in and attacking the towns from the sea, they had moved along the coast and sent in assault parties first. Then in the morning, they relied on their local overwhelming strength to catch the small garrisons unawares and frighten them into instant submission.
Defences were wrecked. Prisoners were taken on board the ships of the squadron. No casualties were incurred and the marines withdrew, leaving Colonel Santana to send his canvas-clad scouts to examine one or two more ambitious targets in the same area, once the excitement surrounding the original successful foray had died down.
It all sounded so simple and easy compared with the failed attempt that Admiral Popham had ordered Major MacKenzie to lead. They had rowed into the small, but important port of Getaria and attempted to evict a large, well-entrenched garrison.
The admiral did not want to discuss the hundreds of casualties as, because he had been behind the schedule that he had set for himself, he did not wish to be reminded that he had made MacKenzie go straight in without using his new scouts to prepare the way.
Because Algy had been with the Spanish marines, there had been no one to let the guerrilleros know what the admiral was doing and the only success he could claim was that Caffarelli had diverted many troops from somewhere and the whole area was swarming with blue uniforms.
Algy knew instinctively that commiserating with the admiral was the last thing he should do. “The marines have not been successful in taking a heavily defended port, Sir Home. Lord Wellington, I do assure you, shall look at the couple of battalions that Caffarelli has rushed here to reinforce it and be delighted that they could not be spared to reinforce Marmont.
It is not vitally important that every assault is successful, only that Caffarelli is driven spare by having to rush troops from one place to another, faster than their feet can carry them.
As I understand your strategy when we spoke before, off Santander, you intended to make a strike every few days at places widely separated along the coast.
So far, there have been two and Caffarelli has reacted to each. I made an assumption that you wished to pursue the plans we discussed and have encouraged Colonel Santana to plan an assault on Castro-Urdiales, between Santander and Bilbao. He intends to land there three days from now. If he cannot carry it immediately, he has enough men to besiege it until the French send many troops to relieve it.
It just has to make Caffarelli draw men away from the coastal area, east of Bilbao, where I am guessing you are looking for your next strike.
If that is so, I shall ask you to put me and my man ashore to make contact with the guerrilleros. They shall be happy to threaten Caffarelli elsewhere, so that the poor fellow does not know whether he is on his head or his heels. I can be back on board in two days to help with the next assault, where and whenever it shall be.”
True to his word, he was back on board with news that General Mendizábal would be sending men down from the mountains to attack French troops around Pamplona and would time the assault a day or two before Santana attacked Castro-Urdiales.
“With reasonable luck, the news of both attacks ought to reach Caffarelli at about the same time. Troops could be withdrawn from Vitoria and San Sebastian to reinforce Pamplona and taken from Bilbao and Santander to relieve or recapture Castro-Urdiales, thus leaving the whole of the coast between Bilbao and San Sebastian open to attack from the sea.
The admiral favoured the port of Lekeitio for such a strike and Algy led his canvas-clad volunteers to find out all they could about the approaches.
He completed his task three days before the assault was planned and drove his team to examine three other smaller harbours along the same fifty-mile stretch of coast.
There were more than enough Royal Marines to attack all four harbours at the same time. The speed and scope of the plan left Admiral Popham breathless, but restored all his energy and enthusiasm.
Sitting in the admiral’s cabin two days later, Cholmondeley found that all was sweetness and light. A frigate had brought the news of the successful attack on Castro-Urdiales. A despatch from the commander of the ships that Popham had left there accompanied a detailed report from a jubilant Colonel Santana; a report that Algy obligingly translated into english.
The attack had been successful, with ve
ry few casualties, largely because defensive gun emplacements had been captured by troops landed outside the port and a small gun brig had penetrated to within easy range of the French-created temporary citadel and pounded it into submission with its four starboard broadside guns.
The other harbours were back under Spanish civil authority, but Santana intended to hold Castro-Urdiales unless Caffarelli sent at least a division of troops to retake it, when he would evacuate by sea.
“I had long understood the principle of seaborne landings, Sir Home, but had never appreciated how much fun it can be to frustrate a force that has to be five times ones own.
I realise that Caffarelli has had to relinquish many men to further Boney’s russian ambitions, but he must need at least fifty thousand just to hold down this fiefdom of his in the north.
Should you not consider that the time is approaching when you can start planning for your ultimate ambition; to capture one or both of the major ports of Santander and Bilbao?”
“Indeed, Colonel, some such attempt has long been in my thoughts, but only since your translation of Santana’s despatch and the almost unqualified success we have had on this coast, have I allowed myself to hope that we could soon succeed with one at least of those towns.
I have learned much from your experience and I now admit freely that we must know everything possible that we can discover before we attempt anything.
Are you prepared to lead your special team and spend whatever time you need to get that information about both ports?”
“Of course, Sir Home, starting with Santander. With it standing on a peninsular I see it as easier to assault, both from land and sea. For us, it would also be easier to hold with sufficient troops as our navy would prevent the French coming by sea and starving us out would not be an option.
What would make its capture more likely would be if you should be prepared to accept the help of my battalion of Hornets. They are now only twenty-five miles to the west of the town, having frustrated the two divisions sent against them. Incidentally, that is one of the reasons why the French have taken so long to react to your own assaults along the coast. They are being harassed from all directions.”
He watched the play of emotions over Popham’s face. The admiral would dearly love the extra help, but was still desperately anxious to consolidate his own reputation as a commander. He offered another carrot.
“If I were to return to them in time to lead them in support of your attack, they would effectively be on detachment to you and thus part of your overall operation. Do you feel that would be acceptable to MacKenzie and Santana?”
That was somewhat saucy on Algy’s part, as he knew full well that Popham regarded his military commanders as tools to do his bidding. What it meant in effect was that if the Hornets were nominally assisting his two marine commanders, then he could claim that they were under his command and no one could argue that the entire operation was not wholly his responsibility.
Of course, it would need to be an unqualified success, but if it wasn’t, then he had merely placed too much reliance on other forces. Personally, he could not really lose either way.
The admiral cleared his throat tentatively. “I can see no reason why MacKenzie and Santana should not be grateful for additional forces to assist their efforts, Colonel. I must insist, however, that it has to be you that co-ordinates the enterprise on my behalf. I trust that your superior, Colonel MacKay shall accept you in that role?”
Cholmondeley laughed out loud in genuine amusement. “Please do not take this as disparaging to you personally, Sir Home, but Hamish MacKay only looks at the damage he can do to the French. Before now, he has accepted disreputable Spanish robber bandits as his equal if it served to embarrass the French.
I confide he shall enjoy showing you what a superb military force we have at our command, as of course shall I.
Do not forget, also that Commodore Sir Charles Cockburn is still working with us, as he was in the Mediterranean. I hear that his marines were a great influence in helping to frustrate Caffarelli’s two divisions. All of them have worked with us before and have learned to make their flintlock muskets quite deadly at a hundred yards.
I have no doubt but that he shall see it as his duty to continue to support the Hornets in such a venture. It shall add over a thousand prime fighting men to the force you have available.”
As Algy sailed west to direct Santana’s further operations and eventually rejoin his command, he reflected that this northern venture was no longer just a diversion to keep additional troops from joining Marmont in his contest with Wellington.
It had acquired a strategic life of its own and would still be contributing to the embarrassment of the French, long after the Marmont-Wellington conflict had been decided one way or the other.
Not only that, but bearing in mind that all Wellington’s supplies were coming all the way from Lisbon: if this venture was a success, the possession of Santander or Bilbao would give the British army another and much more convenient source of supplies and equipment.
CHAPTER 18
“Yew have no idea, young Li, how pleased I am to see yew. I cannot think that I have ever been in a position quite like this before. It goes without saying that I know exactly where the Hornets are and I have a very good idea of where the French are and which way they are moving.
All that shall change in the next hour or so, as they are too many for me to contain and they shall swing west around my right flank or continued to stretch out south in the direction that we have been encouraging them to move.
What I have to know is where is yor lord and master? Where and how is our army deployed? Are they standing in defence or manoeuvring to counter what the French are doing?”
Welbeloved and his men had been moving steadily south all day, delaying the French advance and generally frustrating their efforts to swing westwards without marching right around his eastern flank.
Captain Pom Bal Li relaxed and savoured the hearty welcome he had been given. “Lord Wellington knows exactly where you are, Sir Joshua and what you have been doing, courtesy of some dragoons and riflemen that have now rejoined their divisions after giving highly colourful accounts of your endeavours and of their part in them.
He is delighted that you have been able to accept their help, but suspects that you used them as messengers to get them out from under your feet?”
Pom had hurried through this first part of his account, as he could see that Welbeloved was anxious to know what the army was doing.
“Our army has been quite scattered because of Marmont’s clever ploy at Toro, Sir. It is now deployed in a rough line of divisions from north to south, from two to ten miles west of your position here at Nava del Rey.
Up to this moment, the army has been moving eastwards slowly, expecting almost momentarily to be in contact with the French. His lordship is grateful that their breakout from Tordesillas has been slowed so successfully. Now that he is ready again, he would like you to fall back to the southwest, moving through our lines as you go.
The army shall contest the area to your west if Marmont offers battle but it shall not be to our advantage defensively until the River Guareña. Flowing north to the Duero, the river is a suitable barrier and the high ground beyond it is where it is intended that Marmont shall be faced initially.”
Welbeloved beamed. “Well and concisely put, Li.” He looked at Vere, Roffhack, Gonçalves and Addenbrooke, who had all been listening carefully. “It is always so much more reassuring, Gentlemen, when we know precisely where our friends and enemies are.
This village is pretty enough, but I have been uneasy about the French enveloping the Vespãos and the Hornissen on the right. I think we can now disengage slowly to the southwest in line of battalions. The French can be allowed to see us go and if they are tempted to try anything stupid, I am sure that yew can all deal with it without bothering me. I shall take the Condesa and try and find Lord Wellington. The batteries of mortars are better out of
the way in this sort of action.
He missed the smiles of relief that appeared on the faces of his commanders, all of whom knew of the Condesa’s condition and shared his concern. “Shall yew please come with us, Li, but first find Don Luis and give him the gist of what yew have told us and what we are about to do.”
The Hornets and the Spanish cavalry swung into a line of battalions, stretching south from Nava del Rey and moving slowly west. The battalions themselves divided into company or squadron-sized units and began to pay as much attention to the ground before them as to where the enemy was lurking in their rear.
Welbeloved still instinctively thought of his men as a small company of horsemen and harboured hopes that some French squadron might chance its arm and challenge them.
It was when he came to a rise in the ground and saw nearly three thousand horsemen stretching out into the distance on both flanks, that it came home to him that no enemy cavalry, even of brigade strength, would want to pick a fight with such numbers.
Wellington’s army was another proposition entirely. They ought to be on the alert to make contact with the enemy and not many of them would be likely to recognise the drab Hornets or equally undistinguished green Spaniards.
It would be more than unfortunate to be sprayed with grapeshot by over enthusiastic horse artillery. He could understand why his men were treating their own side with as much suspicion as the enemy. At least, they could shoot the enemy!
Inevitably it was cavalry units that they met first, within a mile or two. Recognition established, they closed up into battalion blocks, crossing the River Trabancos to regain the main road to Salamanca.
They found no firmly established direction of advance within the allied army, only a desire on the part of its commanders to know where the French were and in which direction they were moving.
As they passed through the scattered units, Welbeloved asked his senior officers to seek out their colleagues and warn them what they were likely to see. Pom begged for the temporary loan of one of the platoons of Vespãos and cantered off in search of Lord Wellington.
The Confrontation at Salamanca Page 21