Napoleon's Guard

by Griff Hosker

  I did not know what to say. I had never seen him so serious. I had no choice but to nod and say, “Of course sir. You have my word.”

  He seemed visibly relieved at that. “What I am about to tell you has been in mind for some time.” He sighed, “Since our fleet was destroyed our position here is untenable. Things are not going well in Italy and the fools there have lost many of the gains I made. I need you to go to Naples and speak with the British there.”

  He knew he had astounded me by the look on my face and he waited. Was he talking surrender? “And how would I get there general?”

  “The sloop ‘Carillon’ still sails and her Captain, like you, bears a charmed life.”

  I nodded. I could understand why he had chosen me. My Italian was rusty but still serviceable, I knew the area and I could speak English but what was my task? “And what do I say to the English?”

  “You will deliver this letter for me.” He handed over a document which had been sealed with wax. “If this letter looks like falling into anyone else’s hands but the British representative in Naples then you must destroy it. Is that clear?”

  “Yes general.”

  “If the eventuality occurred then you would need to speak with the representative and tell them what I request.” I could see that he was in a difficult position. He had to trust me with something so delicate that even Bessières knew nothing about it. “I want to return to France aboard a French ship with my Guards and generals. There is one frigate left in Alexandria, the Muiron, and I want them to leave her alone.”

  He was deserting the army! I had to ask the question. “And the army?”

  He sighed. “I wish safe passage for them too but not yet. I think the British might allow me to leave but not my army.” He shrugged, “It will take away the threat to India but for the present they will not allow the army to leave but eventually…”

  “Do you trust them sir?”

  He laughed. “An excellent question. The short answer is yes. They are a people who still believe in giving their word and keeping it. I am hoping they would rather I was in Italy than Egypt.”

  I tried to take this in. I was not even certain that I would last more than a day alone in Naples let alone do what he requested. He allowed me to think for a while and then he said. “The ‘Carillon’ will return each day to the rendezvous point. You will have six days to complete your task and after that the sloop’s commander will assume you have been captured or killed.” He could be quite cold when he wished to be but I understood that. “You will, of course, travel in civilian clothes.”

  “And when do I leave?”

  “Tonight. The ‘Carillon’ is at Jaffa. You will not return to your regiment. There are clothes and money in the next tent. There is a chest on board the ‘Carillon’ with spare clothes and money for you.” He stood and I noticed how small he was. He normally sat or was mounted but when he stood he barely came up to my chest. He put out his hand. “You do this for me and you do this for France. I shall be in your debt if you succeed.”

  I had no choice but I did think that I was going to my death. I changed into my new clothes and left the uniform on the cot. I went outside to Killer and the two generals came to see me off. Bonaparte seemed genuinely concerned when he said, “Good luck Scotsman. My fate is now in your hands.”

  Chapter 8

  When I reached Jaffa I went to the garrison commander. I had met the colonel during the campaign and he was a good man. I asked him to stable Killer with his own horse. I did not trust the locals and I knew that he would be cared for. Paul was a horseman too but events had made him an artilleryman. He also seemed to like the spirit of Killer although I cautioned him about riding the black beast. He laughed, “No captain, I will just exercise her with my own horse. Horses get lonely and it will do her good to have another horse close by.”

  Satisfied that Killer was taken care of I took my horse pistols and headed for the harbour. I had already seen the masts of the ‘Carillon’. She was the only vessel in the harbour. The crew had not changed since we had scouted Malta two years earlier. François, the lieutenant who captained her was waiting at the head of the gangplank. He had aged a little but he still looked like a pirate.

  As he shook my hand he said, “I do not know who is more the fool; you for landing and spying or me for landing you. I fear we are both in mortal danger.”

  I shrugged, “The sea and the battlefield are both dangerous places. We are young and we take our chances.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Older and now philosophical; how you have grown!. Let’s get under way. Your chest is in the cabin. Prepare to get to sea First Mate!”

  “Aye aye sir.”

  As I descended into the stygian gloom that was the accommodation on the ship I heard the commands being given to slacken ropes and loosen sails. By the time I had found the dimly lit cabin I could feel the movement of the ship as we headed out to sea. One advantage of being the only ship in harbour was the lack of obstacles to strike and we made swift progress into the open water of the Mediterranean.

  I never like being below deck and I joined the lieutenant at the stern. His crew were young and efficient. They went about their business competently and without fuss. I did not disturb him as he conned the ship towards the setting sun. I looked back at the lights of the land as they flickered and flashed. I wondered when I would return. I laughed to myself, if I returned. I could end up in a prison hulk or even shot as a spy. I was not wearing a uniform. General Bonaparte was relying on the British being gentlemen and honouring their word. My mother had told me tales of General Wade slaughtering highlanders who had surrendered. Patently not all of them were to be trusted.

  When the lights from the land faded François lit his pipe and joined me at the rail. He gestured with his pipe at the now invisible land we had just left. “I will not ask you what you are about for I was told not to but I wonder why you are alone this time and why Jean, Tiny and the others are not with you.”

  “All that I can tell you is that you are landing me at Naples and my English will come in handy.”

  He tapped his nose, “Then that is enough.”

  We watched the sea for a while and then I ventured, “Do we have many ships now that the fleet has been destroyed?”

  “Just frigates, brigs and sloops. We have to be fast enough to evade their ships. That is easy enough with the battleships but they do have quick frigates too. Luckily the ‘Carillon’ is faster than them all. We avoid them if we can but that is not as hard as it might sound. They lie off Alexandria, knowing that our main army is there. They have other ships at Acre for they know the general is there and the rest harass the south coast.”

  “Suppose I wanted to get to France by boat. Could I do it?”

  “I could have you there and no-one would be the wiser but if you wanted to, say, bring your squadron then we might struggle. For that you would need a frigate.”

  “And how many men could a frigate take?”

  “More than you might think. If they were prepared for cramped conditions then it would be a couple of hundred but a hundred would be easy.” He tapped out his pipe and the sparks dropped to disappear into the sea. “Are you thinking of running then?”

  “No but I wondered how we would get the army back to France.”

  He laughed. “We could probably get many of the soldiers but not the horses and certainly not the guns.”

  I nodded. I now saw what Bonaparte intended. He could escape with his generals, his scientists and his guards on a frigate. The rest of us would rot in Egypt until we all died of the plague or ran out of ammunition. At least I knew, in my own mind, where I stood. “Have you decided where you will drop me and how?”

  He gestured at the flag staff. “We will try the Maltese flag again and I will try to land you in the port itself.”

  “Aren’t the Maltese allies of us now?”

  “Yes and the British are in Naples.”

  “How about Sorrento? It is just
down the coast and I could make my own way north?”

  He shook his head, “No for I need to pick you up as well. I will try to go in under another flag perhaps. One the British might think twice about firing upon.”

  “Is there one?”

  “The Stars and Stripes, the American flag. They might not like their ex-colony but the Americans are precious about people firing on their flag and the British would be wary of doing so. We will try that.” He looked up at the pennant. “It is a good wind. Let us go down to my cabin and we will eat.”

  François was good company and we ate and drank well. It would be six days before we would reach our destination and I needed that time to prepare myself. I spent part of each morning practising with my sword and my stiletto. I became quite adept at throwing at a target and hitting it. I had the sail maker fashion me another canvas belt like the one I wore beneath my clothes. This one was for the precious letter I carried. I spent each afternoon studying the maps and charts of the town and the coast. If anything happened to the ‘Carillon’ I would need to make my own way home. When I looked at the money provided by the general I saw that the coins were not French but a mixture of Austrian, Spanish and Italian. I would, at least, not look French. The clothes, too, were similar to the ones I had worn when travelling to Vienna as an Italian. General Bonaparte certainly knew how to plan.

  As we headed up the Italian coast François and I worked out how we would rendezvous. “I cannot keep coming back into port that much is obvious.”

  I suddenly remembered our story on Malta. “Could you not say you have repairs you need to make. That should buy you a couple of days. You could sail out and then back saying that it had not worked.”

  He stroked his beard. “That would work but could you get your task done in such a short time?”

  I was not certain. “I do not know. This is unlike the other work I have done for the general and I am not sure how this one will progress. How about this; if I am not back before you sail then sail down to Sorrento and I will make my way there.”

  “That leaves you on your own doesn’t it?”

  The silence seemed as big as the sky. “Yes.” The simple word was filled with a thousand thoughts. I had no-one else to rely on. For the first time I would not have Jean, Tiny or any of the men I had shared hardship with over the past few years. My nearest friend would be François and he, too, would be in danger on board the ship.

  The next day we sailed along the coast and saw the tiny port of Sorrento. There was nothing in the port larger than a fishing boat but the fort bristled with guns. François seemed satisfied. “That should not be a problem.”

  “Good. I will leave my chest on board. I need to travel light but if you have a leather bag it will hide my brace of pistols.” The sail maker had such a satchel and the guns fitted snugly inside.

  The three huge ships in the harbour of Naples all displayed the Union Jack which made my heart sink. I suspected that Royal Navy officers might just be more belligerent than a diplomat. I just had to play the cards I had been dealt. We had timed it to arrive just after dawn so that I had the maximum time ashore. The American flag did not appear to arouse any interest and I was delighted that there were no other American flagged ships in the port. François found an empty berth at the end of the harbour where he could flee quickly and he would be out of the way of prying eyes.

  When I stood on the gangplank it felt like I was stepping into an abyss. François put his hand on my shoulder, “Do not worry Robbie. You are resourceful; Jean says you have the quickest mind of anyone he has ever known. You will do well.”

  As I walked towards the town I pondered Francois’ words. Jean had never said that to me but then again he had told me I should not always be looking for compliments. It did make me feel better about what I was undertaking. Naples was just coming to life when I walked into the town. I walked slowly allowing my ears to attune themselves to the Italian I had not spoken for some time. I found a bakery and went into buy some bread just to speak it again and hear it spoken. It did not sound as alien as I had expected it to. Once I reached the market square I went to buy a drink. I was neither thirsty nor did I need the courage of alcohol but I needed to ask questions. The bar I chose had been the one we had entered when seeking English sailors all those years ago. I did not think they would remember me but it mattered not anyway. The last time I had been in here I had stunk of fish. Now I was a young man about town. I discovered that the town was filled with the crews of the ships and that the Neapolitans were thinking about war with France. Neither pieces of news was what I wished to hear. After I had discovered where the British Residence was I set off. Delay would not help me.

  I saw that there were two red coated guards at the entrance. From their headgear I knew that they were marines. I took a deep breath and stepped up to the one with the stripes on his arm. “I would like to see the British Resident please.” This was the first time I had spoken English since I had interviewed the prisoners those weeks ago. It sounded like a foreign language to me.

  “And who the hell are you?”

  I was taken aback by the coarseness of the words and the aggression. “I have a message for him.”

  “Well give it to me and then piss off.”

  I had only recently heard this phrase and knew it was an insult. I steeled myself. “It is not written down I need to speak with him.”

  “Not today, sunshine, now bugger off before I stick my boot up your arse.”

  He was a bully I could see that and he was trying to impress the young marine next to him. I had no doubt that I could have dealt with him but I didn’t think that would either get me inside or ingratiate me to those who I needed to see. I made a tactical retreat. As I left I heard his voice laughing, “I hate Jocks I do. They are all piss and wind!”

  I did not move far. I crossed the street and stood in an alleyway to watch the door. No-one came out for a while and then I saw a well dressed middle aged gentleman exit. He nodded, absent mindedly at the two guards who saluted him and then headed towards me. As he passed I turned and followed. I had to get a message inside the residence and if the marines would not let me in then I would have to find another means.

  The man called at a shop selling, amongst other things, writing paper. His purchase was wrapped and he went further towards the port. I was intrigued as he did not wear a uniform and yet he walked with a military gait. He stopped at the gangplank of the Vanguard, the flagship of the squadron. He took something from his pocket and gave it to the sentry. He said a few words and I took the opportunity of glancing down the harbour to see if the ‘Carillon’ was still there. She was.

  The man turned and walked back into town. When he stopped at the bar I had used I followed him. He went to one end of the bar and I went to the other. I was served first and I sat with my drink at a corner table and I watched as he had a conversation with the barman. When the barman looked at me and spoke with the man I knew that I was in trouble. They both looked at me. The man paid and then strode purposefully towards me with his drink in his hand.

  He placed his wine on the table and smiled as he asked, in Italian, “May I sit sir?”

  I nodded and as he slid next to me a small pistol appeared in his hands which he jammed into my ribs. “Now why were you asking about the British Residency and why were you following me?” He spoke to me in Italian.

  “I need to speak with the British resident.”

  He still held the pistol to me but the pressure lessened. “Then why did you not approach the front door?”

  “I did but the marines there sent me away.”

  “Ah the inestimable Sergeant Tobias. Now I see.” The gun moved away from me but was still pointed at my middle. “But you are not Italian are you?”

  I shook my head, “French.” It was a gamble but I would have to tell them at some point that I was an envoy from Bonaparte. I would just keep secret the fact that I could speak English until I knew what they were planning.

 
; “Brave then to come here where Naples is about to declare war on France and the town is filled with the sailors who just destroyed your fleet.”

  I suspect he was trying to see if I lost my temper but I just smiled. “Brave or foolish; it depends on who you speak with.”

  He tossed off his drink. “Then get to your feet and let us go to see what you are about. I will take you to the British Resident, Sir William Hamilton. Be careful young man my gun will be close to your spine all the way. Lead on, I know that you know which way to go.”

  As we wove our way through the throngs I suddenly remembered that the sergeant had heard me speak English. My deception might not last long. As we approached the guards the sergeant began to raise his weapon. My companion waved it away. “No need for that Sergeant Tobias; the young man is with me but we will have words after this.”

  Sergeant Tobias shot me a filthy look as I entered the grounds. I had made an enemy there. He would have to join the queue; lately I seemed to be losing friends and making enemies with alarming speed. The building was cool after the heat of the street and so clean that I felt dirty. I resisted the urge to smell myself. We walked across a marble floor to a room with another marine outside.

  My companion spoke to the marine in English and I kept my face impassive. “Is Sir William in?” The sentry nodded, “Then keep your eye on our friend here. He is French but he appears harmless.”

  “Sir.” After the door had closed the marine lowered his musket slightly so that the bayonet was at neck height. He had a cheerfully evil grin on his face. “Now you behave yourself Froggy or I’ll stick you like a pig!”

  I seemed to stand for an age and then the door opened and I was invited in. “Sentry, come into the room and watch him from the door.”

  Sir William Hamilton looked to be about sixty years old but his eyes belied his age. They were sharp and missed nothing. He appraised me as soon as I entered. His French was as good as my English. “Take a seat.” I did so and the man who had brought me sat next to me. “Now my aide, Colonel Selkirk here, tells me that you are French and you need to speak with me.” He leaned back in his seat. “I am intrigued. Pray tell me why.”