Burke in the Land of Silver

by Tom Williams

  The weight of artillery that could be brought to bear on any naval assault was a matter of profound indifference to Burke. His observations of the landward defences of the fort had already made him decide that an attack from the sea was pointless. He would have the troops disembark away from the coastal defences and attack from the land.

  The British fleet waited off Buenos Aires until the sun was dipping below the horizon. Then, in the gloaming dusk, Popham ordered his ships to sail the fifteen miles east to the little town of Quilmes. The troops started landing there the next morning.

  All day boats rowed back and forth between the transports riding at anchor and the shoreline. A hundred marines from Popham’s force accompanied Beresford’s fifteen hundred men of the 71st Foot, so a total of sixteen hundred were landed over the course of day, wading ashore a dozen at a time. As the 71st was a Highland regiment, they were wearing kilts. These, ironically, proved more suitable for a beach landing than the trousers of the marines, which were soon heavy with mud and water.

  Burke watched nervously from the Narcissus. If de Liniers were to break his word, this was the point where a Spanish attack could most easily stop the British. But as the day wore on and the columns formed up on the beach, Burke realised that the admiral was sticking to his side of the bargain.

  As darkness fell, the troops settled down for the night and Scottish songs sounded incongruously on the South American air. Pickets were mounted around the bivouac but de Liniers was true to his bargain, and there was no sign of the Spanish.

  Burke dined that night with Popham. The Narcissus had taken on no fresh provisions since Cape Town and Popham’s hospitality was limited to salt beef and lentils, but Burke enjoyed the evening. The next day he would disembark to join Beresford and he was not looking forward to it. While Popham had been delighted when James had joined his expedition, and had never let the difference in their nominal ranks be a concern, Beresford’s attitude was very different.

  The colonel’s irritation with Burke’s mere presence showed as soon as James reported to him in the morning. Beresford made a great fuss about what he could do with a supernumerary lieutenant and how difficult it would be for Burke to fight with a Scots regiment if he was unused to Highlanders. James smiled gently and suggested that as the Duke of York had asked that he gather intelligence, he would be quite happy were he simply to be allowed to observe the progress of the invasion.

  ‘Well, Lieutenant, if you feel that is how you can best be of use, by all means observe. I suppose you could be attached to my staff, where we will endeavour to make you useful.’

  And so Burke found himself in the company of a small group of majors and captains who Beresford had chosen to designate as ‘staff command’. Given that the sole military requirement (in the absence of any serious defence by de Liniers) was to march toward Buenos Aires without getting lost, Burke was unsure why a ‘staff command’ was necessary but, as his opinion was never asked on anything, he saw no problem with the attachment.

  James, by now fitted out with a smart red tunic and grey trousers (he had been offered a kilt but had declined it), contented himself with marching alongside the troops while Beresford fretted with his captains and majors. It clearly rankled with the colonel that he was not mounted, but Popham had point-blank refused to transport horses to a country where so many would be available on their arrival. Unfortunately for Beresford, any of the inhabitants of Quilmes who owned horses had fled on them as soon as they saw the British start to disembark.

  Burke found Beresford’s desire to play the great commander quite amusing. It was, he thought, hardly as if the capture of Buenos Aires was going to call for heroic generalship. He had agreed with Popham over dinner that even Beresford was unlikely to be able to make a mess of it.

  With the regular garrison committed to protecting the Viceroy, the only forces facing the British were the militiamen, many of whom were armed just with swords or pikes. As the 71st, their pipes skirling, approached the town of Quilmes itself, the militia gathered on a small hill looking down on the Scotsmen marching steadily toward them. With the enemy still some hundred yards away, those of the militia who had firearms discharged them but, being equipped only with old carbines, their shot fell short. The pipers marched on without a break in pace and the militia wisely decided to fall back to the city.

  The clouds that had been building above them all day now burst and rain fell steadily as they marched on toward Buenos Aires. The water soaked steadily into Burke’s trousers, and his jacket provided hardly more protection. After months of loading and unloading ships in all weathers, bare-chested and with only ragged trousers to protect him from the weather, James was at least better able to bear this than Beresford. The colonel by now looked as if he would exchange all his dreams of glory for a hot bath and a change of clothing.

  The downpour might have taken some of the swing from the step of the troops but, after weeks at sea, they were at least on land and marching to victory. For the militia, it seemed as if the weather finished any fight that might have remained in them. The British advanced without any sign of the enemy until they came to the Río Chuelo, a small river that marked the southeast boundary of Buenos Aires. Here the Spanish had fired the bridge but the crossing was undefended. Beresford’s engineers were soon able to improvise a pontoon from the smoking remains of the bridge and the boats that the fleeing Spaniards had abandoned on both sides of the river.

  Before midday the British army were all across the river and drawing themselves up in battle order on the fringes of the city. Buenos Aires had no walls as such, but in front of the troops an embankment of packed soil ran down to the sea. This boundary had once been a defence against Indians and one or two dilapidated towers showed where troops had kept watch on the earthworks. Now, though, it was no more than a symbolic line with some shabby buildings already snaking along the shore outside the nominal town boundary.

  James supposed that if he were in charge of the city’s defences, he might decide that the embankment would provide as good a place to draw up his lines as any, but he was confident by now that de Liniers intended to honour his word. Besides, it was already clear that the only forces deployed in the defence of Buenos Aires were the militia and James knew there to be no more than six hundred men under arms. The city was essentially undefended. Even so, Beresford, not wanting to lose any chance to prove himself in battle, had brought up eight cannon, just in case, and these were, even now, being manhandled along the road by eight teams of sweating, swearing Scots.

  Beresford, still without a horse, found himself uncertain as to how to proceed. His military career to date had not equipped him with the appropriate protocol for taking the surrender of a capital city and he was unwilling to bungle it. On reflection, he decided that here was a role for Lieutenant Burke.

  ‘You know these fellows, Lieutenant. Find whoever’s in charge and demand their surrender.’

  Burke snapped a salute.

  ‘Do you have terms, sir?’

  Beresford snorted. ‘I’m not discussing terms, Lieutenant. They’re beaten fair and square. They can surrender or I’ll burn their wretched city to the ground.’

  James opened his mouth to speak and thought better of it. He saluted again and turned toward the city gate.

  If his salute on departing was a little more thoughtful than the previous one, Beresford didn’t appear to notice.

  James gathered an escort – six men and a sergeant – but he need hardly have bothered. As they moved beyond the embankment, there was no sign of any defenders. The rain had eased off somewhat but the streets remained empty. They walked through the city as if it were a ghost town, the houses silent, the windows and doors all closed against them.

  The Plaza Victoria was deserted. The Recova, usually packed with traders, lay silent and empty. Burke led his men across the square and through the Recova into that side of the plaza, which was the unofficial territory of the army. Here, with the fort immediately ahead of him, Burk
e finally saw some sign of activity. Militia stood beside the gate and, as he walked toward it, a messenger galloped into the building, his horse’s hooves skidding on the wet cobbles of the courtyard.

  No one tried to stop him as he approached.

  ‘Who’s in charge here?’

  A man wearing the uniform of a militia sergeant, but with the bearing of a clerk, answered him nervously: ‘The mayor, sir. Sr de Álzaga is in the Viceroy’s quarters.’

  James nodded curtly to the Sergeant and his party marched smartly through the gates and across the courtyard to the Viceroy’s palace. There were no guards at the doors today and no one to announce him as he led his men into the Viceroy’s residence. There, in what had been the Viceroy’s audience room, a short man with a pale face sat waiting, accompanied only by a couple of civilian officials.

  ‘I am Sr de Álzaga, mayor of Buenos Aires. Might I have the honour of knowing who I am addressing?’

  ‘I am Lieutenant James Burke, currently attached to the 71st Foot. I represent Colonel Beresford of that regiment and I am come to request the surrender of your city.’

  ‘Do you offer terms, sir?’

  James thought of the agreement he had made with de Liniers. Beresford clearly either did not know or did not care about the details of their bargain. Burke hesitated. He was not a man who was that careful of the truth but he had learned the importance of honour and he was uncomfortable with the situation he now found himself in. When he spoke, he chose his words with care.

  ‘Colonel Beresford demands your unconditional surrender, señor. But I can assure you that we will proceed with the utmost respect for the religion and property of the inhabitants. It is our intention, señor, to free you from the tyranny of Spain, rather than to impose a tyranny of our own.’

  The mayor managed a tired smile in response to this little speech.

  ‘Sitting as I do in an undefended city, I have no choice but to offer you our surrender and to thank you for the generosity of the sentiments that you express.’

  ‘You say that the city is undefended. Is there no military commander who can surrender such forces as there are?’

  ‘Señor, there are truly no forces here to surrender. The garrison has withdrawn to protect the Viceroy who intends to establish himself at Córdoba. I understand that it is a pleasant enough place. More to the point, perhaps, it is almost five hundred miles from here. The defence of the city was entrusted to Admiral de Liniers but he had only the militia and he has now left Buenos Aires.’

  ‘I intend no offence to yourself, señor, but I am sure that Colonel Beresford would prefer to take the surrender from Admiral de Liniers.’

  ‘I can well understand that but, alas, Admiral de Liniers is not at my command. The militia are stood down and, as the mayor, I am the only remaining authority here.’

  Burke bowed.

  ‘In that case, señor, I will convey your response to Colonel Beresford who will assemble his forces here to accept your formal surrender this afternoon.’

  Burke bowed again, the mayor bowed back, the officials bowed, and only a sharp look from their sergeant prevented Burke’s troops from joining the flurry of bowing. Instead, the Sergeant called them to attention, saluted the mayor, saluted James, and then saluted the mayor’s companions for good measure before marching the squad out of the room with parade ground punctiliousness.

  Thirty minutes later, James was reporting to Beresford that the city was his.

  ‘But I’m to take the surrender from the mayor, rather than from the military commander?’

  ‘Buenos Aires is now an open city, sir. There are no military forces to surrender.’

  Beresford sniffed.

  ‘That’s damned irregular. Still, I suppose it’s all you can expect from dagos.’

  A corporal now appeared, leading a fine bay stallion. It seemed that while Burke had been away, Beresford had sent a foraging party through the houses outside the wall until they had found a horse that he considered suitable to his dignity. So much, James thought, for respecting the property of the inhabitants.

  As orders were shouted and the modest army formed into parade order, James realised that the time he had been away had not been entirely wasted in looking for a horse. Beresford had also had his staff devise a suitable imposing triumph.

  The colonel rode to the head of his victorious troops.

  ‘You’d best walk alongside me, Lieutenant, as you’re the only person here who knows the way.’

  Behind the victorious commander, a piper led each of the columns. Beresford would have liked the martial beat of drums but, by tradition, the 71st eschewed drummers, so a piper would have to do.

  The troops made their way into the city. Word of Burke’s meeting with the mayor had obviously got out, for now windows were unshuttered. There were even a few girls waving at the balconies and, here and there, a muted cheer as the ranks marched past.

  As the soldiers arrived at the Plaza Victoria, the columns spread themselves, each man marching a good yard from those on either side. The result was that the little army filled almost the whole of the square, allowing Beresford to accept the mayor’s surrender whilst leading a force that, at first glance, appeared about twice its actual size.

  The mayor came out of the fort and a colour party marched in. The pipes continued to play as the British flag was raised above the Castillo de San Miguel. Three cheers were given for George III and then three for the 71st. (Burke noticed a certain amount of fidgeting from the Marines at this point.) Finally, a toadying lieutenant called for three cheers for Colonel Beresford. The pipes skirled again, Sergeants bellowed their orders, and the British marched proudly into their new home.

  *

  Despite his initial qualms over Beresford’s behaviour, Burke had to admit that, in the days following the invasion, everything seemed to be going well. Beresford installed himself in the Viceroy’s palace and started to issue a series of edicts for the administration of the province. There were vague declarations about the freedom of the people and rather more specific pledges about free trade.

  Burke heard mutterings that the French and Spanish merchants were concerned at the likely effect of British rule on their business. However, many of their fears seemed to be addressed when M Goriot organised a meeting under the aegis of the Societé Francaise, at which O’Gorman was one of the principal speakers.

  Burke settled into his own offices in the fort and enjoyed the feeling of being at the centre of power. He wrote reports on every aspect of Buenos Aires life and suggested scores of ways in which the British troops could be made to look less like occupiers and more like liberators. As time passed, though, he realised that Beresford was not interested in the impression his troops created. As far as he was concerned, the British occupied the fort, their flag flew over the town, and the only question was how much profit could be extracted from the situation.

  As the reality of Beresford’s approach sank in, Burke’s enthusiasm for his work diminished and he found himself spending more time thinking of Ana. It had been frustrating to be in Buenos Aires all these months without being able to see her, but his disguise as a humble stevedore had obviously made that impossible. Had he been seen in the neighbourhood of her house, let alone in her company, it would have been obvious he was not what he claimed to be. A meeting with Ana, he was sure, would have ended with a short interview with de Liniers and an intimate acquaintance with the public executioner. Now, though, he could see her without an immediate threat to his life. After two weeks he decided it was time to call on the O’Gormans.

  He dressed himself carefully in his borrowed uniform and was the epitome of military elegance as he knocked on O’Gorman’s door on a fine Tuesday afternoon. He was announced, and O’Gorman hurried from his study to wring his hand and greet him with all the enthusiasm of someone greeting a liberating army. James could not have hoped for a better welcome from Mr O’Gorman. Mrs O’Gorman was, though, conspicuous by her absence.

  ‘I
sent word up as soon as you were announced, but her maid came down to tell me she has just this morning been taken with a dizzy spell.’ O’Gorman frowned as he spoke. ‘And that’s unfortunate because she was merry as a bird at breakfast.’

  James did his best to conceal his disappointment and soon O’Gorman had him seated in the morning room while servants brought in tea and sandwiches. After some polite conversation about the business in Brazil (mutually profitable) and the llamas and assorted Andean livestock still stabled in Buenos Aires (which O’Gorman considered rather less satisfactory), O’Gorman explained about his public-speaking triumph.

  ‘I told them they were being foolish. This was exactly what we had been wanting, I said. Britain had come to free us from Spanish domination, I said. No more being tied to the quarrels of the countries of Europe. I explained how England believes in free trade. When I told them that we would be able to trade anywhere in the world, they applauded. When I told them that we would be free of Spanish tariffs, they cheered.’

  James, who was sipping his tea, spluttered audibly at this point.

  ‘You told them what?’

  O’Gorman looked puzzled.

  ‘I told them that they would no longer have to pay Spanish tariffs. Surely that is true? The Spaniards have bled us dry with the tariffs they can impose because of the trade monopoly. But now, with free trade, those days are surely over?’

  ‘I am not sure that Colonel Beresford has come to any firm conclusion yet on tariff levels.’ Seeing the look of worry on O’Gorman’s face, James sought to reassure him. ‘The tariffs will, in any event, no longer be payable to Spain.’

  In fact, Beresford had no intention of reducing tariff levels. As far as he was concerned, he had just conquered a new country for Britain and the conquest had to pay its way. ‘In any case,’ he added on one of the rare occasions Burke had been able to force him into discussion, ‘they’re no worse off now than they were before we arrived. What have they to complain about?’