Midshipman Graham and the Battle of Abukir

by James Boschert

  “Sadly we in the gun boats realized this too late, as we were on the eastern side when the French attacked. I ordered our boats to pull for the West and ordered the Turkish gun boats to follow, which they did not.” He sighed and pressed his lips tight in a bitter grimace.

  “We arrived with only a few boats just in time to witness a shameful rout. We did all we could, but the French had taken the first line and the Turks were either milling about, being killed by the French, or trying to swim back to our boats.

  “It didn’t take the French long to exploit that situation and attack the second redoubt. The major and I were there on the fortifications to witness not only the utter lack of discipline by the Turkish forces when the French withdrew from that attack to regroup. Even then the Turk might have won the day by holding their ground, but no, they had to rush out and start behaving like savages again, butchering the wounded and mutilating the dead.

  “That was when the French attacked with their cavalry. Général Murat, I think it is, who commands them. The French were enraged and the Turks are mostly dead, except for those cowering in the fort.”

  “I have never seen anything like it before,” Major Bromley said. “Their turbans and Fez floated to the surface as they drowned. The water is like a sea of poppies all around; I have never seen the like!” he exclaimed again, shaking his head as though trying to banish the sight. “It was terrible to witness the panic and disarray,” he added, taking a sip of his Madeira; then he shook his head again as though he still could not comprehend what horrors he had seen.

  “We could see most of the battle from the ships with our glasses! It seemed as though the French were invincible!” Lieutenant Canes said. There was real respect in his voice as he spoke.

  “We have to assume the Pasha has been taken prisoner, although we tried to reach him. He was not even on the redoubt directing the battle!” Sidney said tonelessly. “I cannot understand how a man of the Pasha’s reputation could be so disinterested, inept, and so utterly irresponsible. There was no leadership whatsoever on the Turkish side, while the French knew exactly what they were about at all times.”

  “Their horse artillery did much damage. They are very experienced and came right on the heels of the Turks and destroyed them by the hundreds as they fled,” Major Bromley stated with barely suppressed admiration.

  “That, too, we witnessed from the ship. Those horse artillery were a decider. God, I wish we could have supported with our own ship’s guns! It would have made all the difference,” Lieutenant Canes said, nodding his head.

  “Can the Turks hold out in the fort, Sir? Is there still a chance?” Williams asked.

  “There would be a very good chance of driving the French off the peninsula even now if we could only bring the ships in closer and support the fort with our own guns, but we are stranded out here unable to do anything.”

  Sir Sidney slammed his hand down on the desk, making the glass rattle. It was a rare demonstration of anger on his part. His frustration was palpable, and contagious.

  “We cannot just give up, gentlemen, but I fear that this engagement went the way of Boney and we must do our best to salvage what we can of it.”

  The others wondered what on earth he meant. How was it possible to salvage anything from this debacle?

  He looked at Lieutenant Canes. “Lieutenant, I want all the boats to take water to the fort. Employ all the midshipmen and senior warrant officers to command them.

  “There are now several thousand men in a place that can only accommodate about five hundred at best. They will be very short of both water and provisions. We must do all we can to help them hold out. Please arrange for this to take place immediately. And we must send boats to find if anyone is still alive in the water, although I rather doubt it. Major Bromley, please assist Lieutenant Canes. At the very least we must try to evacuate as many as possible tonight.”

  “Aye Aye, Sir.” Lieutenant Canes stood up, as did Major Bromley, who gulped down the remainder of his sherry. They saluted Smith and left. Captain Williams stayed behind.

  *****

  In the silence that followed Captain Williams observed his commander. Smith looked exhausted. There were dark rings under his haunted looking eyes. He had not yet changed his clothes, which were soaked, blackened with burnt powder and torn in places, exposing the garments underneath.

  “You should change out of those clothes as soon as you can, Sir,” Williams suggested.

  Sidney wiped a hand across his forehead, also smudged with powder and grime.

  “It was an utter disaster, John. Those Turks have to be led by the most arrogant and stupid of people. Major Bromley and Colonel Douglas pleaded with the Pasha to listen to what they had to say. In the end I had to plead personally with the senior officers and even the Pasha himself before the battle, and only then did they do anything at all; and as we have seen, it was far too little.”

  “You did all you could. The ships would have made a huge difference if they could have come in to help, but a ship grounded is of no use, and indeed immediately becomes a target itself,” Lt Canes said. He had returned just in time to hear the last words.

  Sydney sighed. “If only we could have, or if only their gun boats had come to assist us! We might have turned the tide. Yes indeed, a lot of ‘if only’s’. We are witness to a catastrophe!”

  “The Pasha was unspeakably arrogant and has now paid for it dearly. I imagine that he might be better off as a prisoner rather than having to go back to the Sultan and explain things.”

  “That’s just the problem, Lieutenant. We will get the blame, as they do not know how to examine their own consciences and draw the true conclusions. Furthermore, I am very sure that Nelson and his merry crew of sycophants will chortle about this when they get to hear about it,” he sighed.

  Captain Williams feared his senior officer was only too right. Then they heard the sound of guns again. It was something of a surprise, as there had been a ghostly calm for some hours. The boom of the French guns pounding the little fort was an unwelcome reminder that the battle was clearly over for the British.

  Sir Sidney listened to the guns for a moment before remarking, “The Turks can eventually replace their losses; the French cannot.”

  As he was to write in his report to Admiral Nelson, “Even under these untoward circumstances, we have the satisfaction of observing the enemy’s losses to be such that a few more victories like this will annihilate the French army.”

  Chapter 16

  Victory

  During the time when the guns were quiet The Pasha , his right hand heavily bandaged was brought before Napoléon. They stood on the same rise that Napoléon had occupied for most of the day as he watched the progress of his army. Now the Pasha was forced to see the humiliating consequences of his neglect.

  Bonaparte was courteous in victory.“I would be glad to send a letter to your master in Istanbul and tell him of your courage, Your Highness.” This was said not without some satisfaction, as Napoléon intended to parade the Pasha in Cairo when he made his victory march.

  The Pasha lived up to his arrogance with the reply, “Thou mayest save thyself the trouble. My master knows me better than thou canst.”

  After that statement Napoléon had no more thoughts of magnanimity.

  “Take him away and guard him well. I shall have him paraded in Cairo. Continue with the bombardment!” he ordered.

  Indeed it had been a fine victory, and Napoléon was pleased to give credit for the seized moment to Murat, who was promoted to the rank of divisional general. Napoléon also gave most of the glory to Murat’s brigade; he told them they had achieved the impossible.

  Général Kléber arrived with his brigade that afternoon to join Napoléon. The tall Alsatian embraced Napoléon and told him, “Général your greatness is beyond all bounds, you are out of this world!”

  “Murat was the man who turned the tide, and even captured the Pasha on his very own!” Napoléon crowed. “Our casualties
were minimal. Two hundred or so dead and about seven hundred wounded in some fashion or other. The enemy? Thousands and thousands! But we are not yet done with this spit of land, my Général. The invasion is not fully repulsed yet, as the fort of Abukir is still in the hands of the Turks,” Napoléon stated. “However, I am told that many Turks took refuge and the fort is full to bursting with men who have neither the food nor the water resources to withstand a long siege.” Napoléon laughed. “I can just imagine Sir Sidney Smith over there in that ship of his, biting his nails with frustration.”

  Kléber nodded agreement. “We now have the captured guns and our own artillery. It will not be long.”

  “Bring our artillery and mortars up and demolish their walls. This will not be another Acre.”

  “No indeed, mon Général,” said Général Lannes. “Look out to sea. They could not bring their ships in closer as they could at Acre.”

  “I can imagine how impotent that Sir Sidney Smith must be at this moment!” Napoléon said with satisfaction. “He must watch as we destroy the Turkish survivors and drive them into the sea to join their cowardly comrades who are already there. Revenge is sweet at this moment.”

  Within a few hours both the light horse artillery, the captured cannon and some more larger field guns brought by Kléber were in place behind the very redoubt made by the Turks as their second line of defense, and the bombardment began. Napoléon ordered the barrage to continue all through the night.

  Chapter 17

  Water for the Besieged

  After he had cleaned up and taken a short but restless nap, Sir Sidney appeared back on deck and began to observe the British ship’s boats, which had switched from gun boat duty to supply vessels which now plied the water between the ships and the distant citadel. The roar of the French guns continued unabated leaving a pall of yellowish smoke that hung over the former battlefield.

  “There must be thousands of men in that tiny fort, Lieutenant,” he said, peering at the now darkened peninsula through his glass. The bright streaks of flame from the French cannon and the pall of white smoke that obscured the battle field were clearly visible to the men on the ships.

  Midshipman Graham was in command of a longboat with the bosun’s mate Chauncey in charge; not far away, Tewksby and Standforth were in charge of jolly boats. All the boats were loaded with water casks destined for the fort. It was distracting to hear the wailing of the survivors and those who had watched the ghastly tragedy taking place from the Turkish boats and ships standing out to sea alongside the British ships.

  On board the Turkish transporters and their war ships the survivors and sailors called out to their God.

  “Oh Allah! Allah!” they wailed. “The Faithful have this day perished in thy sight, and thine Hand was not lifted to save them! Tonight thy servants sleep beneath the waves, while the proud Infidels are resting in their tents, and trailing thy standards in the dust! Woe! Thrice woe, is Islam this day!”

  “What are they wailing about this time, Sir?” Lt Canes asked Captain Williams.

  When he was told he muttered under his breath. “Perhaps they should have listened to Sir Sidney then they wouldn’t be in this situation would they?”

  As the boats approached the shoreline, using the fort as a cover between themselves and the French guns, something none of the young officers could have anticipated occurred.

  The Turks who had taken refuge in the fort appeared to think that rescue had arrived and boiled out of the back gates of the fort and ran down among the rocks, trying to reach the arrivals. Duncan and his men had to yell at the Janissaries to stand back, for they appeared to be determined to swim to the boat.

  “Get the barrels over the side, men!” Duncan yelled over the screaming of the Turks.

  “Keep them off the sides of the boat or they’ll swamp us!” Chauncey bellowed, as he thumped down the flat of a cutlass on the hands of a man struggling to haul himself onboard.

  “Water!” Duncan yelled at the Turks, pointing at the barrels that splashed into the water alongside them. “Drink water!” he mimed drinking the clean water from the half floating barrels. But then, to the surprise and horror of the men on the boat, the wild-eyed Janissaries dragged the barrels onto the rocks and the short strip of sand and, using axes, began to smash the barrels open, spilling the precious water out onto the beach.

  “Goddam the stupid buggers don’t listen!” Duncan exclaimed, looking back at his own men who were gaping at the chaos that unfolded in the shoreline before them.

  Frantic Janissaries on their knees tried to capture some of the drinking water in their hands, only to be shoved aside by others, desperate to have a drink themselves. Within moments two large barrels of fresh water were shattered and their contents lost. The Turks then turned their attention to the boats. But Duncan had been in this situation before.

  “Get us out of here, Chan!” he yelled, and using the butt of a musket he rammed at the panicked Janissaries attempting to clamber aboard. Other members of the crew rapped the Turks on their heads or their hands with their oars as they pulled away. Given the chance, the mad Janissaries would all try to board, swamping the boat and sinking them all.

  As they drew abreast of the jolly boat with Standforth in charge, Duncan pointed back to the Turks who were now fighting over staves of the barrels.

  “Its madness over there, Minnow!” Duncan shouted. “You’ll have to get in and out fast. Do not tarry and don’t let them swamp you!”

  Standforth nodded, his face was pale under his oversized blue hat, and he fingered his short sword nervously. They all watched incredulously as some of the Janissaries, having seized some staves, began to run into the sea and try to use the wood to support them as they floundered out towards the resting boats.

  “We’ll stay here and support you,” Duncan assured his younger companion. “Get in there and dump the barrels overboard. It’s up to those idiots to do with them what they will.”

  Standforth nodded and called back an order to his crew, who heaved on the oars. The boat shot forward and almost beached itself. While several of the crew held off the yelling Turks with their oars, others manhandled the two barrels overboard. One of them landed on a couple of struggling Janissaries, who went under. One didn’t resurface. Others of the screaming and howling Turks seized the barrels and hauled them ashore. Once again the boat crews watched in amazement as the barrels were hacked to pieces by the insane Janissaries. The drinking water pouring out over their outstretched hands and gasping faces, to be lost yet again in the sand and on the rocks.

  Wondering what Tewksby might be facing, Duncan cast a look to his left where other boats were drawing close to the shore. Without exception they experienced the same insanity and were forced to dump their barrels in the sea and hurriedly withdraw out to deeper water, from where they watched the madness taking place on the beach. Each boat tried to help several of the more desperate Turks aboard who had made it far enough out to sea but were now in danger of drowning.

  But now the French had seen what was going on and raced some of their light guns forward to open fire on the boats standing out to sea. It was time to go and leave the luckless Janissaries to their fate.

  “Stupid bastards!” Duncan exclaimed, as Standforth’s jolly boat pulled alongside.

  Standforth looked like he was going to be sick. “It’s madness over there!” he jerked his sword point at the beach. “How can we help them when they behave like that?” he asked, sounding shaken.

  At that moment another boat came close. “Ahoy there, Graham, Standforth!” a voice called.

  They both turned and saw that it was Tewksby, in charge of another of the ship’s boats.

  “I wondered where you were,” Duncan called back.

  “We were over there on that side of the point.” Tewksby waved his sword to their left. He sounded shaken too. “They are completely mad! They destroyed their own drinking water! Never seen the like before!” He shook his head in amazement. “What do we
do now? We cannot help them if they are stupid enough to do that.”

  A small water spout rose into the air between the boats, followed by another spout twenty yards away. None had heard the guns firing, but this got their attention.

  “Demme! Row for the Tigre, the French have our range! Nothing more we can do here,” Tewksby yelled. As he was the senior officer in the location, and they all heartily agreed with his assessment, his command was obeyed with alacrity.

  “Get us the fock out of here, Chan,” Duncan called back to the bosun, who grinned and looked relieved. “Aye Aye, Sorr,” he called back. “Row lads!” he shouted, and put the helm over hard. The rowers bent to their task with a will, and the three boats hauled off towards the distant ships, every man relieved to be gone from that hellish beach.

  Duncan noticed Major Bromley on the other longboat, well behind them as they drew closer to the main ships. He assumed that the Major would pass along the tragic news directly to the Commodore. Duncan didn’t envy the man.

  After dismissing their crews the midshipmen clambered aboard, leaving the boats tied off. There would be more work for them later.

  It was a very subdued group of midshipmen who touched their hats to the quarterdeck and reported to Lt Bowles.

  Although the thunder of the French guns continued into the evening there was complete silence on the British ships other than necessary commands.