by Griff Hosker
The river was empty. The night and the water were both black. The current took us towards the sea and José and his brother had little to do except to find the one landing placed which was close to the wine merchant’s home. Returning back across the river would be a different story. They would have to tack across the river. They planned on fishing as they did so. It was unlikely that the French would stop them but, if they did, then they had a story.
They would not be able to land me at the warehouse. It had a quay and might be guarded. Instead, they would land me at a small beach just a mile or so from it. I saw the trees begin to take shape as we neared the north bank; they told me we were getting close. We did not speak. They lowered the sail and allowed the current and the rudder to bump us gently into the shore. Cristiano slipped over the side and held us against the shore. I dropped into the shallow water. I clasped arms with the brothers. Cristiano clambered back aboard and, with the sail raised, they disappeared into the night. I made my way up the slope to the road I knew lay above me.
We were now into May and the nights were warm. I did not need the cloak for warmth but it hid me. José had heard of the wine warehouse and he had given me directions to find it. I reached the road. I had no doubt that the French would have imposed a curfew. That did not worry me. I would try to bluff my way past any sentries with my French. I moved close to the buildings to my left. They were mainly industrial and were empty. I hoped that I would remain hidden. A dog barked to my right. I kept moving as a Portuguese voice commanded it to be silent. In some places, there were no buildings and I could see, to my left the river. There I hurried to the next building. I entered the warehouse district. I knew, from José, that many wine merchants lived above their warehouses. I hoped that was true of António José da Silva. It was dark but I could still read the signs above the doors. Eventually, after walking three-quarters of a mile or so, I found the premises of da Silva. As I had expected the doors were barred.
Before I knocked on the door, I would explore as much of the river and the bank as I could while it was still dark. Using the shadows and the doorways I headed towards the city. The main thoroughfare was wide but I spied many alleyways. We could slip men through them without a problem. I travelled, perhaps four hundred paces before I heard, ahead, the sound of French voices. I also smelled pipe tobacco. I moved more slowly and after two hundred paces I spied a battery of eight-pounders. They were obliquely aligned and were facing the bridge. They had just three sentries. I did not see any infantry. Turning, I retraced my steps to the warehouse. I walked back up the street until I found a passage between two warehouses, leading down to the river.
The cobbles leading down to the river were slippery and I had to move cautiously. I saw then that the warehouse had been built on a cliff. I guessed that they used the cool stones to create a better environment for the wine. My cousin had taught me much about viniculture. When I reached the river, I observed that the cliff overhung the river and provided shelter. To my joy, I saw that there were four large wine barges moored there. They were called Rabelo boats. They would be almost invisible to anyone looking upstream from the centre of the city. While I waited for dawn to break and people to begin to move around the streets above me, I explored the barges. Flat bottomed they were designed to carry huge barrels of wine from the vineyards upstream. They would be perfect for the transportation of troops. I estimated that almost a company could be boarded aboard each one. The four of them could transport almost four hundred men across the river.
By the time I had finished my exploration dawn was breaking and I heard a bell which, I assumed, marked the end of curfew. I headed back up the steep cobbled path to the warehouse. I waited across the road in the doorway of a building which looked like it might be a shop of some description. If I was found now it would be hard to justify my presence. Fate took a hand and no one questioned me. I saw four broad-shouldered men arrive from the east. One had a key and they glanced at me as he opened the door to António José da Silva’s warehouse.
I stepped across the road, “Excuse me, I am seeking a Portuguese wine merchant, António José da Silva.” I took out the letter of introduction given to me by Donna d’Alvarez. “I have a letter here.”
One said, “You are English?”
My accent was not as good as I might have hoped. “Yes.”
“Come inside quickly. The French send a patrol down here as soon as curfew is ended.” Sure enough, I was no sooner whisked inside than I heard the sound of hooves clattering down the cobbles.
Don António José da Silva was a younger man than I had expected. I suppose that was because of Donna d’Alvarez. I later discovered that she had known his father better than the son. He read the letter and then embraced me, “You cannot know the joy your presence brings. Your army comes?”
“It does. Are the bridges still in place?”
He shook his head, “There is just one remaining. There were many men crossing it yesterday.”
“In which direction?”
“They were heading south!”
“That means that the General is close.”
“How can I be of service?”
“Those barges, they are yours?”
“Yes, they belong to my company but since the French came, they have not been used. We keep them hidden there because the French commandeered all the other vessels on the river! They cannot have them!”
“They would be useful in the transportation of troops.”
He shook his head, “There is a battery of guns just one hundred yards from here. The French do not know they are there. They sank all the others yesterday. Only the high cliff hides them. As soon as we started to take them across then they would open fire. They are slow moving and would soon be reduced to firewood! Besides, the opposite bank is held by the French. Come, I will show you.”
He took me to a balcony on the top floor. It afforded a fine view across the river. I saw blue uniforms moving. He was right. Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of British six-pounder cannons. In reply, I heard the heavier boom of nine and twelve pounder French cannons. The battle was beginning.
“Come, we will eat. We can do nothing while the battle rages.”
“Could we take the barges across at night?”
“That is an idea worth talking about. It would be dangerous but possible. We will eat and talk.”
He led me to a table which had been placed on the balcony so that we could view the battle. It did not sit well with me to rest while my comrades fought but my host was correct and there was little that we could do. It felt bizarre to be behind the enemy lines drinking coffee and eating freshly made pastries. We also had a fine view of the bridge. When I saw red-coated soldiers marching across it to the south, I started.
António laughed, “They had us confused too, Major. They are Swiss soldiers serving the Emperor. Mercenaries!”
By the time we had finished our breakfast the sound of muskets had grown and they were closer to the river. We saw ambulances and wounded men stream back across the bridge. At first, this was a trickle which grew to a flood and when the Swiss mercenaries returned along with blue coated battalions then I knew the French had lost the battle. It was mesmerizing. Neither of us could drag our eyes from the battle. Columns of smoke rose in the distance. We heard muskets and even the clash of sabres. A building burned and black smoke spread across the southern bank of the river. I had a better idea of what would be happening. Both armies would be using their light infantry and light dragoons to skirmish. Fighting in suburbs and towns was not the work of line infantry or dragoons.
The morning raced by. We saw no actual fighting but we did spy the results. Across the river, the blue battalions began to head towards the bridge which quickly became packed. If there had been a British battery with a line of sight to the bridge then the troops would have been massacred. They made it, albeit slowly, to the other side. Then I saw a sight which sent shivers down my spine, French engineers were beneath the bridge
and they were placing charges. They were going to blow the bridge. This was where the British cavalry should have been used. If they could have gained a foothold on the bridge while men still flooded across it then there was a chance that they could take it and, with it, the city. There was still a mass of men tramping across the bridge. The engineers swarmed underneath the bridge with barrels of power and fuse.
I saw the last of the regimental artillery being dragged back to the northern bank and the sound of muskets replaced by that of carbines. The flood became a trickle and then I saw Chasseurs and Dragoons galloping across the bridge. I spied a French Engineer shouting. I knew what was coming. The last of the French had just left the bridge and a handful of red-coated soldiers were just on the southern end when an almighty explosion rent the air. The British soldiers knew nothing about it. They were thrown into the air with the bridge. Pieces cascaded down on both sides of the river bank and up and downstream of the bridge.
I looked at António José da Silva, “Well, it seems that we will have to find a way to take those barges across the river.”
He nodded, “I can find men to sail them across the river but will your General be here and, if he is, where will we find him?”
“I have a good view here. If you can get me a telescope, I will spend the rest of the day looking for him but if we just land the barges on the opposite bank I can land and search for him.”
“It is not as simple as that. They need to be out of sight of the French guns. A barge is not a warship. It is not robust.”
“Do you have somewhere in mind?”
He pointed to the convent at Vila Nova. The largest south of the Douro, it lay to the south and west of us. I estimated it to be half a mile or so from us, “There would be a good place. Even the French will think twice about shelling a nunnery!”
The afternoon wore on. I saw more red coats as our regiments arrived. The Royal and Horse Artillery began to set up batteries facing us. When I saw the Union Flag raised above the convent I knew where Sir Arthur was. I shouted for António, “Sir Arthur, it seems, has read your mind. He is at the convent.”
António beamed, “Then all is well. We can sail the barges there as soon as it is dark.”
“And the curfew? I have a feeling that it will be enforced strongly tonight.”
“You could be right. Perhaps we will wait until midnight. The tide will be higher then anyway. Will you be coming with us?”
I nodded, “My task was to find a way across the river and I have done so. Besides, my presence must place you and your people in danger.”
“We are patriots and we are happy to place ourselves in such danger. When Sir Arthur lands he will find loyal men, who are willing to help him. We will help you drive the hated French from our land!”
The watching over, we dined and we dined well. António was a rich man and he had a good table. I was careful to drink as little as possible although I had to consume a reasonable amount as I did not wish to offend my host. While we ate, he told me all that he knew of the defences. The cliffs which appeared so formidable were also a weakness for they could not be defended well. It seemed that the bulk of the defences were towards the heart of the city. The strongest part of the defences were closer to the centre of the city. That meant we could land men close to the warehouse and gain a toe hold. The bell sounded the curfew. I heard the horses of the dragoons as they clattered down the cobbles.
The men who would sail the barges were already assembled in the warehouses. There were doors which opened directly on to the river. While we would only sail after midnight, we could prepare the barges. António would be sailing with us. I went on the barge with him. They had a simple sail arrangement. Our engineers would be able to sail them. Without any weight in them they would fly but, equally, might be prone to capsizing. I was glad that the men who sailed them knew what they were doing. António had a clock and we set sail at midnight. He bravely led. We had to scull away from the cliff but then the tide, current and slight breeze took us. We were totally silent. There was not even the snap of a sail or a sheet. I could not help but stare at the French bank of the Douro. There were sentries there. What would they make of the four shapes which ghosted across the river? As we moved across the dark river I suddenly wondered if we might have a hostile reception from the British. They might be nervous. I went to the bow and peered out. There was no quay beneath the convent. Instead, it was a rocky and sandy shore. António had assured me that they had landed in similar places. I saw two English soldiers on the shore. Their faces turned and I heard the unmistakable sound of muskets being cocked.
I spoke loudly for I needed my words to be heard, “I am Sir Arthur’s aide, Major Matthews of the 11th Light Dragoons. Hold your fire.”
I heard a Geordie accent, “Tam, go and fetch the sergeant.” I saw one of them scurry away. A red coat loomed up from the shadows. A bayonet was fixed to the end of a cocked musket, “Aye, sir, you may be who you say but keep your hands where I can see them and come slowly.”
The barge ground ashore so gently that I was able to step down on to dry land. I heard footsteps and a sergeant appeared next to the private with the gun. “I am Major Matthews... I”
The sergeant nodded, “We were told to expect you. The General is waiting.” He looked behind me.
“These are friends, make them welcome and keep them safe.”
The Geordie said, “Aye, sir. Come on, gentlemen. I am sure we have a brew on.”
Sir Arthur was camped in the grounds of the convent. Preparations were being made to assault the French and there was much movement in the camp. Part of it, no doubt, was heralded by the arrival of the barges. I had to wait but a short time as Sir Arthur was woken. He was not precious about his sleep. He had a dressing gown around him, “So, Matthews, you have worked your magic again. I have Sir John heading up to that ferry you and your fellow found and now I hear that you have brought me some ships! Is there no end to your talents?”
“Just to say, sir, that the people of Oporto are ready to rise and support you.”
He took the tea his servant had brought him, “Pah! The last thing I need is a mob of civilians to muddy the waters.” Cup in hand he strode off. “Come to the command tent. Let us see how we can exploit this God-given opportunity.” His senior officers had been summoned. They knew the General and they raced towards the command tent in various stages of undress. I saw that Sir Rowland Hill had managed to don his uniform whilst some of the others were half dressed and, like the General, wearing dressing gowns. Lights were brought in. Dawn was not far away but the interior of the tent was black. There was a map on the table.
“Gentlemen, Major Matthews here has brought us intelligence and four wine barges. We begin our attack this morning. Sir John Murray is some miles upstream repairing the ferry Major Matthews found. The last news I had was that this would be repaired by noon. He has some light horse and artillery. We can cut off Soult from the east! I intend to attack this morning. Matthews, what do you know of the defences here?” He jabbed a finger just downstream from the warehouses.
“The main defences are towards the centre of the city. They are either side of the bridge. There is a battery here.” I pointed to the bank half a mile from the warehouses. “If you land here,” I pointed to the quay from which we had embarked, “then our men can land without fear of fire and the narrow streets would be perfect to build defences.”
Sir John Sherbrooke asked, “How many men can you ferry at one time?”
“The river is calm and the barges are built to carry heavy weights. I would say sixty to eighty men in each boat.”
Sir Arthur shook his head, “Too much risk of capsizing. The first wave will have just two hundred men. There will be fifty in each boat. Major Matthews will command. He knows the landing site best. General Anstruther, your men suffered the fewest casualties. Who would you recommend follow Major Matthews?”
He grinned, “Colonel Donkin and his mad Irishmen. He has the Prince of Wales�
�� Irish and the Connaught Rangers. They have been itching to get into the fight. They need to be blooded. A bit of action might calm them down!”
Sir Arthur nodded, “Then your division will go in first. Matthews, secure a bridgehead and hold. You and Colonel Donkin will be in command until General Hill can land.” He turned to the redoubtable General Hill, “Rowland, take your chaps and the Guards.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want the Horse Artillery to support the attack. Have them placed to fire across the river. Knock out the French guns.” He glowered around the table. “Any questions?”
Silence greeted him.
“We send the barges back as soon as they are assembled.” He looked at me, “You had better leave the civilians here, Matthews.”
“They won’t like that, sir. How about we take crews over with us and I can leave them on the north side. Their families are there.”
He stared at me, “Well, you know these chaps best. Good luck gentlemen and put some clothes on! It looks like a gathering of sepoys!”
General Anstruther followed me out of the tent. “I hope you don’t take offence at this, Major Matthews, but I am not sure my Colonel Donkin will be happy about taking orders from a light dragoon!”