Victor reached for his fob watch. ‘Twenty minutes to midnight, sir.’
‘Then you’d better join your units, gentlemen. Watch for the rocket. Move off as soon as you see it.’
Napoleon and the others pulled on their coats and hats, still heavy and sodden, and left the building. Outside the rain was falling even harder, rattling off the tiled roofs and hissing into the muddy street. Everywhere Napoleon looked the men were huddling under eaves or in the doorways of houses.
Colonel Victor grasped Napoleon’s hand. ‘I’ll see you in the fort.’
‘Yes. Until later then.’
The officers dispersed. Napoleon trudged through the streets to the fish market where the reserve battalions were waiting. He found Lieutenant Junot and the other officers warming themselves over the embers of a fire in a smithy.
‘Junot!’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’ve got better eyes than me. Get over to the church. Climb the tower and keep watch for Lapoye’s signal. You let me know the instant you see anything.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Junot saluted and then ran off down the cobbled street, hurriedly buttoning his coat. Napoleon took his space by the hearth, pulling up a stool, and then settled down to wait. Midnight passed, then another half-hour, and then one o’clock. Still there was no sign of Lapoye’s signal and no report from Junot.
Then at half-past one, a staff officer strode into the fish market. He cupped his hands and called out, ‘Colonel Buona Parte!’
‘Over here!’
Napoleon rose from the stool and advanced to meet the staff officer. ‘What’s up?’
‘General Dugommier’s compliments, sir. He wants to see the senior officers, straight away.’
Napoleon nodded and as the staff officer ran off to find the next man on his list Napoleon hurried back through the streets. When he arrived he discovered Brule and Delaborde in earnest discussion with the general. Dugommier waved the new arrival towards the table.
‘Any sign of the signal from your position, Buona Parte?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You see?’ Delaborde shook his head. ‘No signal. Something must have gone wrong.’
Dugommier stroked his chin. ‘Perhaps. It is equally possible that the weather has delayed Lapoye and his men are still getting into position.’
‘We don’t know that, sir,’ Delaborde insisted.‘But even if it was true, this rain has made the ground impassable. Worse still, it’ll make it impossible to use firearms. Our men will be at a terrible disadvantage.’
‘No,’ Napoleon responded. ‘There is no disadvantage. The same conditions apply to the enemy. At least our cannon will be able to fire. The powder’s sheltered and the fuses will burn even in this rain. We can still proceed with the attack.’
Delaborde shook his head at Napoleon and turned back to the general. ‘Sir, we must call off the attack. Wait until we have better weather. Otherwise there might be a disaster.’
Napoleon felt a wave of frustration at the man’s anxiety. As he wiped his dripping hair to the side of his forehead the door opened and Colonel Victor joined them.
‘Ah,’ Dugommier smiled. ‘Now that you’re all here, we must make a decision. There’s been no signal from Lapoye. Delaborde and Brule advise me that the attack should be cancelled, and that we wait for better weather.’
‘That would make life easier, sir,’ Victor nodded. ‘But it’s no reason to call it off. Not yet at least.’ He sat down beside Napoleon. ‘And what does Colonel Buona Parte think? After all, it’s his plan.’
The general looked at Napoleon and raised an eyebrow.‘Well?’
‘I say we go now, sir. Don’t wait for the signal. The men have had enough standing around waiting. Leave them there much longer and it won’t do much for their spirit.We don’t know how long this weather will last. Could be hours, days, weeks. Who knows? Besides,’ Napoleon looked at his general with a shrewd expression, ‘I don’t think that Saliceti and Fréron, still less the Committee for Public Safety, are going to look on any delay favourably.’
‘Civilians!’ Brule spat. ‘What the hell do they know about military affairs?’
Napoleon shrugged. ‘Not much, perhaps, but they know the mood of the mob in Paris, and they know the minds of the men of the Convention. France needs a victory. If we call off the attack then it doesn’t take much imagination to work out how our political masters in Paris will react.’
‘Hmm.’The general frowned.‘Have you considered how much more they will be displeased, should the attack fail and we lose too many men?’
‘Yes, sir. But that could happen at any time. I don’t see how waiting until the weather has improved is going to better our chances.’
‘No. That’s true,’ General Dugommier reflected, and then slapped a hand down on the table. ‘Very well, we’ll wait for another hour. But if there’s no sign of Lapoye’s signal by three o’clock, then I’m calling off the attack.’
Delaborde smiled and nodded his assent. Napoleon felt betrayed. If this was how France waged war then the conflict with the other nations of Europe was as good as lost.
‘Back to your units, gentlemen. If there’s no signal, I’ll send word for you to order your men back to camp.’
As he made his way back to the fish market Napoleon’s brow creased into a frown. The campaign to retake Toulon had been dogged by dithering commanders for long enough. If Paris was minded to make an example of those it held responsible for not pursuing the siege with enough vigour, then it was possible that Dugommier’s immediate subordinates might be drawn into the net. Napoleon swore under his breath. If only he were in command. Then he’d order the attack at once, come rain, snow and ice. He stopped in his tracks, a sudden thought seizing his mind. It was very simple. The attack would go ahead. He would make it happen. Striding forwards again he hurried back to the fish market, and headed towards the church. Inside he stood at the bottom of the tower and called on Junot to descend and join him. After a quickly glance round to make sure that they would not be overheard Napoleon spoke quietly to his companion.
‘Junot, the general intends to call off the attack.’
‘Why? What for, sir?’
‘The rain. He thinks it will bog our men down, and it means we might not see Lapoye’s signal.’
‘What if Lapoye has fired it already, and is waiting for our acknowledgement?’
‘Yes,’ Napoleon mused. ‘That might be so. In which case the rain will be the ruin of us all.’
Junot smacked a fist against his thigh. ‘Damn this weather! If only it would clear for a moment.’
‘Let’s assume it won’t. Something has to be done, Junot. Someone has to make things happen.’
Juont looked at him cautiously. ‘What are you suggesting, sir?’
‘I want you to fire a green signal rocket.’
‘What?’
‘A green rocket. If Lapoye sees it, then the attack continues as planned. If he doesn’t then at least our attack on Fort Mulgrave will go ahead.’
‘And what if we fail, sir?’
Napoleon shrugged. ‘Let’s make sure we don’t. Now then, Junot, are you with me on this?’
Lieutenant Junot thought for a moment and then nodded once. ‘You’ve not let me down yet, sir. And I won’t let you down.’
‘Good.’ Napoleon smiled, and clasped the other man’s arm. ‘That’s good. If this goes badly for us, then you have my word that I will do everything I can to exculpate you.’
‘There’s no need for that, sir.’
‘Thank you, Junot. Then let’s waste no more time. Fire that rocket.’
Junot saluted and hurried from the church. Napoleon let him get a head start and then emerged into the market and trudged casually back towards the blacksmith. He resumed his place in front of the hearth and waited, his heart beating fast with anticipation and excitement over the terrible risk he had just taken. The minutes passed, and the rain continued to lash down. Then Napoleon heard a cry from outsi
de the smithy.
‘What’s that?’ One of the officers around the fire craned his neck to look outside.
A sergeant came running up. He stopped and saluted.‘Colonel Buona Parte, sir.’
Napoleon twisted round. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s the signal, sir. The green rocket.’
Even as he spoke there was a muffled rumble, like thunder, as the batteries facing Fort Mulgrave opened fire, obedient to their orders. Any moment now the advance guard of General Dugommier’s assault columns would be moving out of La Seyne and crossing the rainswept ground towards the enemy. Nothing could hold the attack back now, thought Napoleon. He had committed thousands of men to it. His fate was in their hands.
Chapter 80
Apart from the distant roar of the guns no sound of battle carried across to the men of the reserve column as they remained in the fish market and shivered in the slashing rain. Napoleon was consumed with the need for some news, any news, of how the attack was progressing. He strode up and down one side of the market, hands clasped tightly behind his back and head tilted forward as his mind played out all the variables that could affect the assault on Fort Mulgrave. Junot and the other officers occasionally glanced at their mercurial young commanding officer, but no one attempted to speak with him, and they muttered quietly amongst themselves in the light-hearted manner that men preoccupied with thoughts of combat and death are inclined to affect.
Then, an hour after the rocket had been fired, a messenger arrived from General Dugommier. A young lieutenant, splattered with mud, ran into the market, looked round and saw the officers sheltering in the smithy. Napoleon had seen him arrive and marched up to join them.
‘What news?’
‘General’s respects, sir.’ The messenger was struggling for breath. ‘He needs the reserve to advance . . . and support the attack.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Two of the columns lost their way. Brule and Victor’s men marched right into each other.’
‘How did it happen?’ Napoleon said through clenched teeth, furious that his plan was being ruined. ‘We marked the routes clearly enough.’
‘The rain, sir. It washed away some of the pegs. The markings aren’t there.’
‘Shit!’ Napoleon took a deep breath to calm himself. ‘What then?’
‘I don’t really know, sir,’ the messenger replied helplessly. ‘There’s terrible confusion. Most of the men can’t find their units, or their officers. Then we came up against one of the enemy outposts.We’ve tried to take it three times, and been thrown back. The general needs the reserve.You’re the only organised force he has left.’
‘Where’s Delaborde?’
‘Don’t know, sir. He swung left when we lost the route and no one knows where his column is.’
Napoleon shook his head. This was a disaster. Unless something was done quickly the battle was already lost. He focused his attention on the messenger. ‘Tell the general we’re coming. Ask him to clear the approaches to the outpost and we’ll go straight into the attack.Tell him . . . tell him that I respectfully suggest that he orders what’s left of the other two columns to follow us in. Have you got that?’
The messenger nodded.
‘Go!’
Napoleon turned to his officers. ‘You all heard that. It’s down to us to make sure the attack is carried through. We’ll march in close order. Have your NCOs positioned on the flanks of the column to keep the men in formation.There will be no pause to deploy when we reach the outpost. We’ll march right over the enemy and let the other columns mop them up. All clear? Then let’s get moving, gentlemen!’
They tramped through the dark streets of La Seyne and then out across the churned mud of the countryside.The sucking ooze around their boots slowed the pace as the men struggled to keep their feet in the tight formation. Soon they ran into the first scattering of injured men and malingerers heading back to La Seyne. The guns of Napoleon’s batteries had fallen silent after bombarding Fort Mulgrave for the hour Napoleon had calculated the assault columns would need to get into position for their attack.The plan was already far behind schedule as the attack had stalled at the enemy’s first line of defence. Napoleon marched at the head of the column, with a company of grenadiers who had orders to sweep aside anyone they encountered in the way of the reserve column. As the column approached the enemy outpost Napoleon could dimly make out the men clustered on either side. He cupped a hand to his mouth.
‘Join the rear of the column!’
His boot came down on something solid, and with a start he realised he had stepped on a body. He forced himself to stride on regardless and moments later they reached the ditch that surrounded the outpost. His sword rasped from his scabbard and he thrust it over his head.
‘Grenadiers! Forwards!’
The company surged across the ditch and began to scramble up the far slope. Ahead, behind breastworks, the dim shapes of the enemy’s shakos were visible. But this time there was no well-trained volley of musket fire to destroy the ranks of Frenchmen. The drenching rain had seen to that. Instead the two sides met face to face and fought it out with bayonet, sword and trench tools. Unlike the earlier attacks, Napoleon’s men came on in a solid wave, led by the grim-faced grenadiers.
‘Pull down the gabions!’ Napoleon shouted up the slope. ‘Pull ’em down!’
A burly sergeant thrust his musket into the hands of one of his men, grasped the wicker rim, braced his legs and pulled with all his might. The heavy rain had softened the earth around the gabion, and slowly it loosened. With a grunt the sergeant turned it aside and let it slither down into the ditch. He wrenched the next one free and then there was a gap in the breastwork wide enough for two men to pass through. On the far side the enemy were closing up to defend the breach as the sergeant snatched his musket back and with a bull-like roar he charged through the gap.
‘Come on!’ Napoleon waved his sword. ‘After him!’
The grenadiers scrambled forwards and threw themselves on the defenders. Napoleon was swept along with them and then he was inside the outpost. Around him the dark shapes of men grunted and swore as they thrust and slashed at what they took to be their enemy. Napoleon glanced round, saw the outline of a British shako and slashed his sword down. The blow landed with a thud, cutting through the hat and into the man’s skull. He fell back with a cry and Napoleon stepped over the body and further into the outpost. Behind him some of the grenadiers were busy hauling aside more gabions to widen the gap as the rest of the column fed through and added to the tide of men overwhelming the defenders.
‘They’re running for it!’ a voice shouted. Sure enough dark shapes were fleeing for the far rampart, hurling themselves across the breastwork and out of sight. Napoleon’s men started to cheer. He sheathed his sword and shouted at them to be silent. There was no time to celebrate. Those men would warn the defenders of Fort Mulgrave of the approach of the column. He must give them as little time as possible to prepare.
‘Grenadiers! Form ranks! Lieutenant Junot? Where are you? Junot!’
‘Here, sir!’ A figure squeezed his way through the men crowding the inside of the outpost.
‘Junot, get down to the rest of the column. Lead them round the outpost and head for the fort. Send word to the general that we’ve taken this place. Tell him I’m heading straight for the fort. He can join me there.’ Napoleon smiled for an instant. There he was, telling a superior officer old enough to be his father what to do. Still, he had enough faith in Dugommier to hope that the general would see the sense of it.
‘Very well, sir,’ Junot nodded, and then added, ‘Watch yourself, sir.’
Napoleon discerned genuine concern in the man’s tone and was surprised by the realisation that he had inspired a measure of devotion in his subordinate. He took the lieutenant’s hand clumsily and gave it a brisk shake. ‘You too, Junot. I’ll see you in the fort.’
Then he turned away, and curtly gave the order to advance. He led the grenadiers acr
oss the outpost to the crude gateway that opened out on to a narrow causeway crossing the ditch. There ahead of them loomed the bulk of Fort Mulgrave, just visible through the shimmering veil of rain. Napoleon quickened his step into a steady trot and behind him the equipment on the grenadiers chinked and clattered as they kept up with him. He hoped that the rest of the column followed suit since the grenadier company would stand no chance on its own. From his earlier observation of the land Napoleon recalled that there were a few foothills to the north of the fort. They could conceal his approach and give them some chance at least of surprising the enemy.
He veered to his left and led the men into a shallow vale, and the fort disappeared from view. A figure appeared out of the darkness.
‘Who’s that?’ Napoleon barked, tightening the grasp on his sword.
‘Captain Muiron. And you?’
Muiron was attached to the general’s staff, and Napoleon lowered his sword. ‘Colonel Buona Parte.’
‘Thank God, sir.’ Muiron approached. ‘The general’s up ahead with some skirmishers.’
‘What’s he doing with the skirmishers?’ Napoleon was astonished. Clearly Dugommier was a general who led from the front. ‘He should be at headquarters.’
Muiron laughed. ‘You can tell him that when you see him. He’s found a point on the ramparts where there’s only a handful of cannon. That’s where he wants the reserve column to go in.’ Muiron looked beyond Napoleon and saw the grenadier company halted behind him.‘Where’s the rest of the column, sir?’
‘Coming up from La Seyne. Should be making their way round that outpost.’ Napoleon pointed out the direction as best as he could estimate it. Muiron nodded.
‘Very well, sir. I’ll go and find them.They’ll need to be guided to the general.’
‘What about us?’
‘Just follow this vale, sir. It bends round the fort and brings you out in front of the northern rampart, but you’ll find the general and his men before you see the fort.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Good luck, sir.’ Muiron saluted and then ran off to look for the rest of the column. Napoleon waved his arm. ‘Forwards!’
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