by Griff Hosker
I grabbed some mugs and the jug and went on deck. François shouted, “Serve the crew and then bring it aft to me.” There was plenty left for the two of us. “Cookie is a magician when it comes to drinks. This will keep the men going.”
“Any sign of pursuit François?”
“They have stopped firing but they will be after us again in the morning and we still have a long way to go. We have to slip through the blockade at Alexandria and hope that the general hasn’t lost Jaffa.” That had never occurred to me. I had thought that the hard part was getting to see Sir William. I was wrong. The two hours sleep I managed to get did not seem to refresh me but I knew that with four men dead we needed every man we could get.
François took us well north, almost to Acre before he headed south. We had managed to get one night’s sleep since the encounter with the British but we were all exhausted as we saw the distant coastline of the Holy Land appear in the distance.
“Now we hug the coast and hope that any guns are our own.”
When Jaffa hove into view I, for one, was heartily glad for I had been certain that we would either be sunk or captured. Someone had been watching over me again.
Chapter 10
François shook my hand as I descended the gangplank. “I will spend some time repairing the ship what do you wish for your chest?”
I shrugged. “It was sent by the general. Keep it, you can sell the clothes or use them. It is a small payment for the service you have done me.”
He gave me a wry smile, “It was for France my friend!”
I lowered my voice, “Aye, if you call Bonaparte France!”
He wagged his finger, “You have a dangerous tongue my friend. Good luck!”
When I went to the fort to see the colonel who had cared for my horse he looked gaunt and ill. “It is the plague and a thousand other pestilences that this land has. I wish we were back across the sea. Your mission was successful?”
“It was and Killer, he was happy here?”
“I envy you your horse. I would love to own such a beast. He has missed you but he is well.”
“And the general; where is he?”
“He has left the siege which will soon be wound up and he is back in Alexandria. I fear that soon we will be the front line. Still at least we are alive, for the moment.”
As I rode south I passed the broken and wounded remains of those who had been besieging Acre. Disease and the Royal Navy had done what the Ottoman’s could not do; they had broken the backs of the soldiers. They looked demoralised and dispirited. They had not been beaten yet but they had not won. It felt strange to be travelling in my civilian clothes but I was looking forward to donning the uniform of the 17th again. My days as a Guard were over. I had fulfilled my mission and I felt more hopeful than I had for some time.
When I reached General Bonaparte’s headquarters in Alexandria I could see that, at least some of the squadron had returned as they were on duty. I nodded to the sentry as he saluted and I entered. There was no General Bessières but the orderly recognised me and gave me a surprised look. “The general will be pleased to see you.” He hesitated, “You did complete the mission did you not, captain?”
I gave what I hoped was an enigmatic smile, “I will report to the general if you please.”
I could see the disappointment on his face as he went into the general’s office. I knew that the general was delighted to see me as he bustled out to embrace me. “Well done, my gallant Scotsman! Come, we will talk.”
He led me into his room and sat down. He eagerly waved his arms for me to sit and then leaned forwards, his face filled with anticipation. I reached into my jacket and took out the letter. I could have told him but I knew that he would want to read the words of the diplomat. I handed it to him. I did notice that he checked the seal. He looked at me, “You know the contents?”
“I know the main points, sir but not the detail.”
He smiled, “Always honest and trustworthy. You have repaid my trust.”
He read the letter and then re read it. Then he looked at me, his face filled with joy. “This is good news. You should know, my young Scotsman, that the army is already withdrawing from Acre and Jaffa. We have succeeded.” Somehow I doubted that. From what I had seen the best we had done was to have a stalemate but I smiled and nodded. “And now we have to face an Ottoman army and a fleet come to try to defeat us again. Pah, they will fail.” He picked up a broadsheet from the table and handed it to me. “Read this. I am having them printed as we speak and soon they will be placed in Cairo and Alexandria to show the Egyptian people that we have won.”
I read the document and wondered how he could lie so brazenly. We had lost and yet he was telling the people we had won. The man who had destroyed the mosque in Cairo was purporting to be a supporter of the prophet.
Citizens of Egypt
‘He is back in Cairo, the Bien-Gardé, the head of the French army, general Bonaparte, who loves Mahomet's religion ; he is back sound and well, thanking God for the favours he has given him. He has entered Cairo by the gate of Victory. This day is a great day; no one has ever seen its like; all the inhabitants of Cairo have come out to meet him. They have seen and recognised that it is the same commander in chief, Bonaparte, in his own person; but those of Jaffa, having refused to surrender, he handed them all over to pillage and death in his anger. He has destroyed all its ramparts and killed all those found there. There were around 5000 of Jezzar's troops in Jaffa — he destroyed them all.’
“Excellent sir!” I had learned to lie too.
“Now you will stay here today.” He suddenly seemed to notice my civilian clothes. “Pompidou!” The aide popped his head around the door. “Get the captain a uniform and find him a room.” Pompidou disappeared like a rabbit down his hole. “Tonight you will dine with me and General Kléber. You will like him. He is like you and I, a real soldier.”
“But sir I would like to return to my regiment.”
“Do not worry, captain, they are heading here even as we speak. Tomorrow you can rejoin your friends. General Bessières, too, is eager to see you again.”
I did not like the ominous implications. Was I to be returned to my regiment or the Guards? I decided not to argue, I knew how quickly the little general could change from genial comrade to hectoring ogre. I would wait until the cavalry and the army returned.
I put on the uniform, only because my other was still stained from the battle with gunpowder, blood and salt. I gave the clothes to Pompidou after I had dressed. “You can get rid of these for me.”
His eyes widened, “You are throwing them away sir? They are fine clothes.”
“But I am a soldier once again.”
The dinner that evening was an intimate affair just General Kléber, General Bonaparte and myself. Once the meal had been served, he dismissed the servants. It was a simple meal, just soup, chicken and bread with some red wine. The wine was a little rough for my taste but it was from Corsica and close to the general’s heart. He was ebullient and cheerful all the way through the repast. I found that I liked General Kléber. He was a soldier through and through. He had served France before and during the revolution and had now been sent for by General Bonaparte.
He appraised me early in the evening. “I have heard of you, Captain Macgreror. You are the mysterious Scotsman who undertakes the general’s most delicate missions. I must confess I had expected someone much older.”
“Major Bartiaux is older sir, and he has been my mentor. It was only this last mission which did not involve him. The success of the others was down purely to the major.”
“Modest too. That is rare in a chasseur!” He laughed as did General Bonaparte but it was not a mocking laugh.
“Perhaps I am the exception which proves the rule.”
“Did you hear, captain, that your old comrade Captain Bouchard has made a wonderful discovery at Fort Juliet, the place called Rosetta?”
I had put the foolish young officer from my mind. �
��No sir, what discovery was that?”
“He has unearthed a stone which my scientists tell me will help us to translate the symbols on the stones. Is that not magnificent? I am just pleased that I sent most of the treasures home before the navy managed to lose our fleet.”
I could see the general taking much credit for this when he reached France. “That was most propitious.”
This was as much small talk as the general allowed and he leaned forwards to speak candidly about military matters. “Now Jean, as you know I am planning on leaving Egypt, briefly, to sort out matters in Paris.” General Kléber shot me a surprised look, “Do not worry about the young captain. He has proved himself to be loyal and discreet and besides it was he who facilitated my journey.“ I saw respect in the general’s eyes. “I want Egypt consolidating. The Ottomans are no enemy to fear and the English are too far away to do anything. I will leave all the army bar a small squadron of my Guards. I will not have much space when I return to France. Thanks to Admiral Brueys incompetence we have no large ships left to us.”
The rest of the evening was spent in a detailed discussion of how General Kléber should run the country. I smiled to myself; he was leaving no room for the general to be creative. The instructions he received were prescriptive in the extreme. General Bonaparte was like a puppeteer and General Kléber, the puppet.
I retired early as I knew that General Bonaparte could talk all night and, if I was to be honest, I was bored with politics. All I wanted to do was get back to being a soldier.
My wish was granted the next day when the army returned. General Bessières looked dusty, drawn and tired when I saw him. I was in the orderly’s office waiting for their arrival. I was genuinely pleased to see the general but the look on his face spoke of bad news.
“What is wrong sir?”
“I am afraid the battle and the plague have taken their toll on your old comrades, captain. The colonel and thirty troopers have died. There are but fifty of the 17th left alive.” I could not believe that old Albert was dead. He had seemed immortal somehow. “He died in battle which is what he would have wished.”
“Jean, the major…”
“Now commands the survivors. The Guards and the 17th are camped where they were after the landing. I think they will be glad to see you. They worried about you, as I did, not knowing what had become of you.” He hesitated, “I will not ask the details as I know General Bonaparte even better than you do, but was the mission successful?”
I nodded, “The general is pleased. And I am just glad to be back to being a soldier.”
I rode as quickly as I could to the camp. He had only mentioned the colonel and I was desperate to know who else had survived apart from Jean. As soon as I saw, in the distance, the bulk that was Tiny I felt a wave of relief wash over me. When Sergeant Manet shouted, “Welcome back sir,” then I knew that I had suffered no more personal losses. However, when I looked at the troopers I saw many familiar faces were missing. It had been a costly campaign.
“It is good to be back sergeant.” I dismounted and walked with the sergeant towards the stables. “Were the battles bloody then?”
“Not really sir. We lost more men through disease.”
“Then how did the colonel die?”
“Best the major tells you that sir. I am just a sergeant.”
Jean and Tiny were in the mess and both looked thinner than I had remembered. They both brightened when they saw me. Jean embraced me. “Thank God you are safe. When you went off in the night we worried about you.”
“I fear you were in greater danger than I was. What happened to Albert?”
His face became angry. “It was Murat! Damn his eyes! He ordered us to charge some Mamelukes and we were unsupported. The colonel became isolated and we tried to get to him but he was cut to pieces. There was not enough left of him to bury.”
I felt my eyes filling with tears. Tiny said, “It was the way he would have wanted to go sir. He wouldn’t have wanted to be a wounded old soldier and he was leading his regiment wasn’t he?”
“Yes Tiny, I know that but I also know how he felt about charges. He told me it was not our business.”
“Anyway,” continued Jean, “we are now attached to the Guards. They lost heavily too. I suspect it means we will be close to the general and slightly safer from now on.”
I could not tell him that the general was planning on deserting the army. Even General Kléber did not know that. He thought that the general would return after a short visit to Paris. I knew he would not.
“I will be glad to get into my old uniform.”
“I am sorry Robbie. It is still in Acre. Some Turk will be wearing it now. We left everything.”
“Yes sir, including the wounded,” added Tiny darkly.
“The wounded?”
Jean nodded, “It was not General Bonaparte’s finest hour Robbie. He had the plague victims poisoned and then abandoned many of the wounded. He treated the horses better.”
Our ruthless general was hurting us more than the British. “I wouldn’t be too confident about the peaceful time. The general told me, in confidence, that there was another Turkish army heading our way and a fleet of over a hundred ships. That is why he is here and not in Cairo.”
Jean’s shoulders sagged, “Then we had better see the quartermaster about some new equipment. The muskets misfire now more than they fire. I’ll go and see Sergeant Major Manet.”
After he had left Tiny said, “Your uniform is still in Acre but your chest is here. The colonel sent it back here after you were sent on the mission.”
“Thank you.” That meant I had my spare pistols and Arab cloak as well as spare boots and breeches. It might not be the full uniform of the 17th but the breeches, at least, would make me feel more like I was back home.
“Did you hear about Hougon?”
I had also put him from my mind. “No, what has happened to him?” Part of me wanted it to be something painful.
“He has fallen on his feet. He was promoted to major and then the colonel dies so he commands the 15th now. Luckily he is only a brevet colonel and does not outrank the major but Major Bartiaux is not happy about that.”
And I could understand why. Someone who should have been the subject of a court martial had ended up being promoted. It was an unjust world.
The Ottoman fleet was sighted at Aboukir Bay where our fleet had been destroyed. General Bonaparte always acted decisively and he led the army north with messengers from the Guards summoning Desaix and the other generals from the east. He was determined to end the Ottoman threat once and for all. The cannons he had placed at Alexandria had driven the fleet east and the Ottoman troops had landed to dig trenches around their fort there. General Bessières confided to me that General Bonaparte was so confident of our ability to defeat the Turk that he had allowed them to do this.
All of the cavalry was placed under the leadership of General Murat. The fact that he had been responsible for the death of the colonel, made me dislike him even more than I already did. You either loved or loathed him. He was flamboyant and he was charismatic and he was in love with himself. The 17th just loathed him. We had, however, to serve under him and obey him. He brigaded us with the 15th Chasseurs and the 22nd Dragoons. This meant that we were, once again, close to the hated Hougon. It was hard to fight alongside two men whom I hated so much when so many of my friends had died bravely. We were on the eastern side of our lines. The infantry and the artillery were to our left. Once again we were the exposed wing of the army.
When the Ottoman began to fire their cannon I could see just how few they had. Obviously the cannons we had seen in Alexandria when we had landed were of the same inferior quality as those brought from Constantinople. General Bonaparte himself supervised our own cannonade and soon the enemy cannons were all silenced. The trenches were well dug and the sand prevented our cannon from doing much damage to the infantry who were dug in there.
General Davout himself led the infantry
assault. The skirmishers led and the solid columns marched steadily behind. General Murat formed us into three lines and he ordered us to move forward. The fifty men of the 17th were sandwiched between the Guards, another small unit and the 22nd which appeared to have survived so far at full strength. The 15th was behind us in support. My hand had recovered and I now held my sword confidently. We walked and then trotted towards the trenches. The desultory fire from the Ottomans caused us no trouble and we broke into a gallop. The ground was hard but I could see that, closer to the beach, it became softer. When we heard the bugle sound charge it was impossible to restrain our mounts. They knew what the call meant and they leapt forwards.
Had the Ottomans stayed in their trenches they might have survived as we had no lances and our horses merely jumped over the obstacles. However they were terrified by the sight of the seven hundred horsemen racing towards them and they jumped from their trenches fleeing towards the safety of the sea. Some tried to fire their antiquated weapons before they did so but most ran. It was not war; it was grisly butchery. We all slaughtered any in our way but no-one enjoyed the experience. You would have to have been a follower of the Maquis de Sade to find anything good in slashing and slicing at men’s backs. When they did face us they died anyway. However they ran so quickly that more were drowned than died by blades. Ten thousand Ottomans perished in the sea and the threat from the Turk was gone for good.
Even though we had virtually walked over them we still suffered wounds and deaths. Some horses had hurt themselves and their riders in the trenches while some were killed by the fire from the fort which took another two hours to subdue. That evening the forty five survivors of the 17th returned to Alexandria to tell tales of our brave and dead comrades.
I was summoned, a few days later, to General Bonaparte’s Headquarters. He came to the point quickly. “Captain Macgregor, you have done me great services in the past and I would like to offer you a commission in the Guards. I would like you to be a major.”