That night he sat alone absently chewing on his biscuit and a bowl of soup with shreds of salted beef floating in it. His companions noted his preoccupation and left him alone. Even Standforth, eager to know what Graham had witnessed, was hesitant to ask. He didn’t possess a glass, so he had merely seen the activity from a distance as a general muddle. The reaction of the officers and Tewksby, who had a glass, had caught his interest. Tewksby had had exclaimed out loud but had not shared his knowledge with the younger boy.
“What’s the matter, Scottish?” Tewksby now asked with a sneer. “Did you toss your breakfast? Couldn’t take the sight of blood?”
He didn’t get any further. A large hand reached out and seized him by his jacket lapel, and he was hauled almost over the table. Spoons and bowls spilled to fall with a clatter onto the deck, but Duncan ignored the mess as he glared into the eyes of his would-be tormentor.
“Do not talk to me of what happened over there, ye Sassenash prick! You were not there,” he whispered. He pushed Tewksby back so hard that he fell off his stool onto the floor. Such was the menace in Graham’s voice that no one spoke. Standforth picked up the utensils and bowls and replaced them on the table with a wide-eyed look on his young face.
Chapter 9
Occupation
Sir Sidney waited till the next day before he visited the Pasha, who by this time had landed with his elaborate entourage and established himself in a huge tent in front of the fortress. His accommodation was surrounded by so many others that the effect was of a pageant, with flags and banners snapping in the morning breeze and men in a wild assortment of uniforms and dress moving about all over the ground that had only just been cleared of the signs of the battle the day before.
Sir Sidney was ushered into the tent, which was still cool, and bowed to the Pasha who was seated on a raised dais among large and colorful silk cushions. He was surrounded by his glowering bodyguards, and Sir Sidney recognized several of the senior officers who were present.
He greeted Sir Sidney with a wave of his hand and through an interpreter bade him be seated and to take some coffee. Sir Sidney would rather have stood to deliver his comments but knew it would be impolite to do so. He seated himself on the carpet before the Pasha and asked after his health.
“My health is excellent, Sir Smith! As you can see we had little difficulty with the Frans. My Janissaries are invincible!We overcame the enemy in no time at all.”
“Congratulations, Your Eminence, on such a victory. I trust there were not too many casualties suffered in the process?” Sir Sidney asked, his tone dry.
“There were some, but that is to be expected. My men are brave as lions and understand the risks when they go into battle. No one can withstand them, as you can see.”
Sir Sidney nodded his head thoughtfully and sipped the steaming cardamom-laced coffee he had been offered. “I must complement your servants for this coffee, Your Eminence, it is superb.”
“Yes, yes, Sir Sidney, but what do you think of our landing? Was it not superb?”
“Sir, it was very well executed, but if I may mention....”
Sir Sidney had been disgusted by the behavior of the Turks, but too much hung upon good relations with the Pasha to make this known. He paused, uncertain how to proceed.
Mustafa Pasha, emboldened by the presence of the British battle squadron, swelled with pride and self-confidence.
“I have no doubt at all that we will soon destroy the Infidel Army of the French and reconquer Egypt for my Imperial Master,” he stated through the interpreter. “I, above all the other servants of the Grand Seignior, have been chosen for my wisdom and courage to perform this honorable mission.”
“May I ask about the possibility of cavalry support from General Murad Bey, Sir?” Sir Sidney asked.
“You are a tactician, Sir Sidney. Murad Bey was notified that we had arrived and I expect him to bring with him a formidable force of three thousand Mameluke cavalry from Upper Egypt. They are the best there is and will make mince meat of the French. But I am sure that we can do very nicely on our own, should he be delayed for any reason.”
Sir Sidney held his tongue as to that. He never liked to underestimate the French. He fidgeted with his coffee cup. “May I mention something quite important, Sir?” he asked the Pasha.
“What is it?” The Pasha sounded impatient.
“There are two items, Your Eminence. Firstly, the British ships of the line are out of range of the peninsula and would not be able to support you should there be a battle here. We can and will offer support with our gun boats, which can be positioned off shore on your flanks, but the ships of the line will not be in range.
My second point is that despite the courage and skill your men showed yesterday it might be advisable to reinforce the defenses and perhaps to build a forward defense … just in case the French decide to attack us?”
The Pasha thought for a while, then nodded his head. “You are right, Sir Sidney. I shall give orders that the defenses are to be reinforced.”
“Perhaps I might offer the services of my two officers, Colonel Douglas and Major Bromley, to assist your officers in this endeavor, Sir?” Sir Sidney said diffidently.
“Yes, that would be possible, Sir Sidney. I shall send out orders to my officers to expect them.” It was clear to Sir Sidney that the Pasha didn’t think it was very necessary to carry out the work but he would do as asked.
They talked about other things, but soon the interview was at an end. Sir Sidney bowed himself out and went off to find the two officers and let them know the situation.
It was nearly noon by the time he found them, sitting in the shade of one of the tents near the shore. Both were sweating in their tight uniforms but jumped up respectfully when he arrived.
“How did it go with the Pasha, Sir?”
Sir Sidney slapped his thigh with exasperation. “Why is it that these Eastern leaders are so arrogant?” he asked the world at large.
Neither man felt the need to reply. They waited.
“I have offered your services to the Pasha, who does not believe that they are needed, but do your best.” He looked around him. The entire area was almost deserted, as it was nearly noon and the Turkish army was taking its ease in any shade the men could find. The heat hammered down on the beach and the glare of the sun overhead, reflected off the sea, only added to the general discomfort.
“Rather doubt that you will be able to get them to do much before tomorrow morning,” Sir Sidney said with a grimace. “However, there is an urgency to ensure that the defenses are completed before Boney arrives. He will have heard of the invasion by now. No matter how exhausted his army is from the Syrian debacle, he must come here or lose it all if this army disperses into the interior.”
Both his officers nodded their heads. “We will do our best to have them build a forward redoubt and place as many guns there as possible with a fall back to a second redoubt just in front of that bunch of tents,” Colonel Douglas remarked.
“I agree, Sir,” Major Bromley said. “If the French do come, they can spend their energies on the first. If they do get through, then the second redoubt with guns using grape will create a killing field and that should stop them.”
But despite the Pasha’s offhand assurances, this excellent plan did not materialize. Colonel Douglas and Major Bromley came to Sir Sidney on numerous occasions to complain that this or that commander had not bothered to allocate men for a particular task, ignoring their pleas that it was urgent.
During this time there was tension in the Midshipmen’s berth. The two would be antagonists avoided one another whenever possible but it was difficult in their cramped space. Duncan’s biggest worry was whether Tewksby would rat out on him and they would then be court-martialed as dueling was strictly forbidden. But Tewksby, other than being cold and distant didn’t take it to a higher level. Standforth and the other juniors studiously avoided any mention of the subject making for very quiet meals whenever they were thrown t
ogether. However work and duty kept the young men very busy and the events unfolding on shore provided more than a distraction for them. The eminent arrival of the French, expected any day now was cause for great excitement.
*****
An exhausted messenger arrived two days later at the camp of Mustafa. Sir Sidney Smith was summoned by the Pasha and informed of events that had taken place to the south.
Murad Bey had been defeated in a fierce battle with the French to the point where he no longer possessed a useful army of horsemen.
Pasha Mustafa wrote a letter to the brave Mameluke prince that was both patronizing and offensive. His boast was: “A very different fate will meet the Infidel dog of Frank from that of the their battle with you and the Mamelukes, if they ever dare to appear before me and my invincible Janissaries.”
The indignant Murad Bey wrote from his refuge, “Pasha, render thanks to the Prophet that they have not appeared, for when they do, you will vanish like dust before them.”
In the middle of the month of July Sir Sidney and his officers again took to the boats to go and see the Pasha, who received them with all the hospitality of a Sultan. Duncan was this time witness to the opulence of the Pasha’s tent, as he and Tewksby accompanied Lt Fowler and a detail of armed sailors, brought along for the protection of the admiral. Sir Sydney’s officers were very concerned for his safety, which he completely disregarded, but he tolerated the presence of his sailors.
The Pasha was, as usual, comfortably settled among huge cushions strewn around expensive carpets and low tables laden with fruit. Instead of coffee he offered the hot Englishmen sherbet drinks, which they gratefully accepted. The servants even brought some glasses of the cooling drink to the three naval officers , which included Duncan and Tewksby who were standing at the entrance to the tent. Sipping suspiciously from the glass, Duncan was pleased to find that the drink was cool and refreshing. He wondered how on earth the Pasha’s staff managed to keep it so cool.
The naval officers were able to observe the discussion taking place inside, slowed by the need for the interpreters to catch up as either side made its point. It was a strained conversation, and soon Duncan could see that Sir Sydney was fuming, as were his two Marine Officers.
The Pasha, on the other hand, appeared to be totally unconcerned, employing flowery phrases that the interpreter had difficulty translating into useful English. He appeared equally confused, even offended, by the terse replies from the Englishmen and therefore took time to turn them into long, more elegant phrases better suited to the Pasha’s ears.
True to form, the meeting had begun with pleasantries and compliments on both sides. Sir Sydney Smith had a brother in Constantinople who was a Consul and had schooled him in protocol. His time in Acre had also taught him that to hurry these meetings was unproductive, because the Turks would become offended and then would sulk and sometimes retaliate in a spiteful manner.
Sir Sidney was astonished to see how undaunted and even arrogantly the Pasha reacted to the news of Murad Bey’s defeat. They each saw the event in a very different light. Sir Sidney realized that Napoléon was on the march and would arrive any day now, unhindered by the Mamelukes. The Pasha simply thought he would destroy the French when they arrived. Eventually the admiral was able to come to the main point.
“We simply must speed up the work on the fortifications, Your Honor,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “There is now no longer any time left to delay our work. It is most urgent that we are fully prepared for Napoléon’s army.”
He received a haughty reply. “My dear Admiral,” — the Pasha always called Sir Sidney “Admiral” — “I am very well aware that the French are on their way. Although Murad Bey failed to carry out his mission to delay the French, I have no doubt that my invincible Janissaries will destroy Napoléon the moment he shows his face before my walls.”
“But Sir!” Sydney remonstrated. “These are not walls! They are barely constructed sand banks which, in their present condition, will be ineffective against the French! My officers....”
It was no use. The Pasha waved away the warnings. Tired of the meeting, and perhaps the admonishing tone taken by the British officers, he closed it by directing them yet again to go and talk to his commanders Duncan and Tewksby, holding to an unspoken truce, followed the admiral and his small group of senior officers as they renewed their efforts to persuade the Turkish commanders to focus on the defenses.
The two young men stood on the second redoubt and stared south at the desultory work being done on the first sand bank. Duncan noted a line of low hills even further south of the first redoubt. True, there were gun emplacements already positioned, but even to his inexperienced eye the sand bank upon which they were placed was not well supported and would crumble away if there was a determined artillery attack. Moreover, the cannon seemed to lack the requisite stack of balls, and in some cases there was no evidence of any powder cache nearby.
“They should listen to the Marines,” he said to Tewksby, who for once agreed.
Major Bromley came up alongside and leaned on the crude emplacement wall with a grunt of exasperation. He was sweating in the hot June sun. With a jerk of his thumb he muttered, “That Turkish officer actually had the gall to tell the Colonel that he is confident that his men will deal with any assault the French can mount, they don’t really need to hide behind sand walls!” he shook his head. “Look over there!” he pointed to the right, towards the place where the second redoubt drew down to the beach.
“They haven’t even thought to extend the redoubt into the sea, not even with pilings! The French will be able to simply walk around it if they don’t mind getting their feet wet! ” He snorted with derision.
“What about the French guns, Sir?” Tewksby asked him. He ran a finger around his collar. He too was sweating inside his serge uniform. Duncan wished he could take off his own jacket.
“They’ll use field cannon, not these heavy things we have on this center part. These people have never seen the French field pieces at work. I have. It’s not pretty being on the receiving end of them. We will most assuredly need the gun boats in support, no matter what.”
Later that afternoon, as they finally made their way back to the boats the conversation continued.
“As you can see, Sir,” the Marine colonel said to Sir Sidney, sounding very irritated, “we have managed to get the first redoubt half completed, but there is still much to be done to make these fortifications solid. The men stop work at noon, complaining about the heat, and we cannot get them back for the rest of the day!”
“I can see what you mean, Colonel. The only thing we can do under the circumstances is to persist and hope that they will begin to listen,” Sydney said, as they tramped down the sandy beach to the waiting boats.
“I have tried to make them place their guns well, but the commanders keep changing the positions. They do not see what I am trying to tell them about cross fire and overlapping fire,” Major Bromley added, looking harassed. The heat was taking its toll of the men who were finally, following Sir Sidney’s example and stripping down to their shirt sleeves. The naval officers along with their nautical men followed suit, but by now Turks had once again disappeared into the shade and were nowhere to be found.
“Sneaked back under their rocks, I dare say,” Graham whispered to Tewksby, who snickered.
“If the French arrive at noon of any given day they could just walk in and take the place,” Sir Sidney muttered angrily, then flicked a glance at the two midshipmen. “As you have succinctly pointed out, they will perhaps find the Turks under the rocks.” He gave a wry half smile as they boarded their boats for the ships anchored several miles away.
Duncan and Tewksby rolled their eyes at one another, and Duncan resolved to be more careful about saying anything within earshot of his leader henceforth.
Chapter 10
Forced March to Abukir
On July 15th an Arab horseman galloped up to Napoléon and his retinue,
who were at that time still in pursuit of Murad Bey and the remnants of his army. The horseman delivered an urgent message.
Napoléon read the missive and then turned to his officers. “The governor of Alexandria, Général Marmont, has witnessed the arrival of the British fleet. It bombarded the city of Alexandria for a short while, then the Turkish army, accompanied by the British squadron under the command of Sir Sidney Smith, made a landing on the peninsula of Abukir.”
He paused to let that sink in. Then he said, “Three hundred of our comrades have been massacred and mutilated. The fortress was besieged by the ships at sea and taken by the Turks, who numbered about fifteen thousand on the landward side.”
There were mutters of anger from the officers when they heard this. The shame of their retreat from Acre was still fresh in their minds. There was clearly not going to be any form of mercy applied on either side when they encountered one another.
Napoléon had been taking his ease with his senior officers at the time the message arrived. The men were tired from an exhausting few days of hunting for Murad Bey and his remaining horsemen. Napoléon’s own Général Murat and his squadrons of cavalry were scattered in all directions.
“Send a message to Général Murat at once to assemble his cavalry and horse artillery and prepare to block any attempt by Murad Bey to come upon my rear while I march north. I do not want to have enemy cavalry nipping at our heels while we deal with the Turks.”
The aide rushed off to find the general and pass along the orders.
Napoléon exclaimed, “Eighty ships have dared to attack Alexandria but were beaten back by the artillery in that place. Having been driven off, they have gone to anchor in Abukir Bay, where they began disembarking their men. My intention is to attack them, to kill all those who do not wish to surrender, and to leave others alive to be led in triumph to Cairo. That will be a great spectacle for the city and lay any doubts to rest that we are conquerors.”
Midshipman Graham and the Battle of Abukir Page 8