Chapter 33: Bearding the French

The sky over Gibraltar was overcast, but the sight of the harbour was welcome nonetheless. The four ships with their eight prizes — three brigs with cargo had been captured off Sesimbra — crept into the anchorage, keeping a wary eye on Algeciras all the time. This last landing had been a resounding success. More than that, it was well executed, too. Paynter had shown to be an able commodore, and he had the landing force reembark in time to avoid a confrontation with the arriving French. They had lost three dead and fifteen wounded during the initial fighting, but the French had lost infinitely more in their thwarted crossing of the Tagus River.

Paynter had decided to put the ships into Gibraltar. They had too many prizes and too many prisoners to start a new landing. The curse of a successful raid, he had smilingly told them.

When the bustle of landing the prisoners ended three hours later, and the men-of-war were taking fresh water and provisions, Paynter informed them of his plan to have the ships refitted for a few days. Thus, after giving Lt. Laughton, the acting Nº1, orders for revictualling, Tony had himself rowed to the shore. As he had hoped, he spotted Harriet’s red hair on the quay, where she stood with the children and Jenny Johnsen.

He still had pain in his left foot, and it showed as he limped up on the quay and towards his family. Harriet was in his arms in a heartbeat.

“What happened, my dearest?” she inquired, her face still buried in his chest.

“It’s a badly sprained and bruised foot, nothing more,” he assured her immediately whilst enjoying her closeness and smell.

“How did that happen?” Harriet asked next, holding him at distance and looking into his eyes.

“A round shot hit the launch, and a floor board smashed against my foot. It was a botched-up landing operation. We got out of it with minimal losses, though.”

Harriet was trembling in his arms.

“A cannon shot hit your boat?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we have more privacy,” Tony whispered quickly.

Being quick of mind, Harriet caught on and nodded.

“More trouble with Keller?” she whispered back.

“Oh yes, but that’s over. I promise, I’ll tell you later. See the prizes? I’ll clear over £2,000 from them. How’s that for a good news?”

Harriet shook her head.

“I much rather see you back without harm.” She took a breath and put on a smile, a genuine one. “Speaking of a good news, I’m with child again.”

Without regard for the people surrounding them, Tony held her tight and kissed her tenderly.

“You make me so happy, my darling wife!” he exhaled after the kiss ended.

Harriet beamed up at her husband. “That feeling is mutual, Tony. I’m so happy, I could dance all day. What do you wish for, a boy or a girl?”

Tony shook his head, a blissful smile on his face.

“I don’t care a whit. If only you and the child are healthy, there is nothing more to wish for.”

The walk to the rented house taxed Tony’s endurance, and it was with a relieved sigh that he sank into an upholstered chair. Jonathan would come ashore later, after the transfer of the wounded to the shore infirmary, but Lucy, summoned by Harriet, soon had a look at the bruised foot. It was not a pretty sight, Tony had to concede, but Lucy never flinched when she wrapped it into a vinegar-drenched cloth for cooling.

Then, after Harriet had arranged the supper, he told her all about the two messy landings under Keller’s command, about Keller’s fortuitous disappearance, and their change of luck under Captain Paynter. Harriet shook her head.

“Why would he try to have you killed?”

“Perhaps, he was connected to the spy network we uncovered in Ireland,” Tony hazarded, lying for the first time to protect Harriet’s feelings.

He saw a fleeting grin on John Little’s face. John Little, of course, knew of Keller’s real motives, but Tony had already sworn his coxswain to secrecy. Tony decided to switch topics.

“So my darling, do you have any names picked for the child already?”

Harriet gave him a look with raised eyebrows, telling him she was looking through his diversion. She smiled impishly.

“We named Richard after my father. If it’s a girl, we should name her after your mother.”

Tony laughed.

“You are crafty, my dear.”

His mother’s name had been Leonora, Eleanor in English, the same name as Harriet’s mother.

“Coincidence, my dear, pure coincidence. What if the child is a boy?”

“We could ask Jonathan or Captain Masters to be godfathers. Jonathan or Jeremy, in other words.”

“You could ask Sir Charles.” Harriet put in.

Tony made a face.

“I could, but I’d rather not. Sir Charles seems to be very averse to anything resembling nepotism, and this would be something akin to asking for patronage.”

“I did not know that. If I have a say in it, I would prefer Jonathan. If something were to happen to us, it would be Lucy who would help my mother take care of the boy. I could not dream of a better person for that.”

Tony nodded. The thought had come to him, too.

“We’ll ask Jonathan if the child is a boy.”

Jonathan came right on time for the supper, and afterwards it was Lucy’s turn for some time alone with her husband. Tony and Harriet retreated early, too, but they just lay holding each other as Tony felt too awkward with the moist poultice around his foot. They simply talked some more, filling each other in on the last weeks that had been spent apart from each other.

Within hours of the inspection, the agent of the Admiralty in Gibraltar purchased the prize La Panthère. She would be counted as sixth-rate, a full-rigged sloop, and commanded by a post-captain. The harbour admiral renamed her HMS Daring and gave Dougherty temporary command over her to have her fitted for service in the Royal Navy. This was auspicious for Dougherty’s future.

Dougherty was lucky that the Gwendoline transport had to be condemned when an inspection showed four of her knees in such a poor shape as to render her beyond repair. Along with thirty-eight of her crew, Lt. Malloy gladly accepted an appointment to Daring, happy to serve in a real Navy ship again. The man had made an admirable turnabout, Tony had to concede, and he looked upon Dougherty as the man who had saved him from disgrace.

The Port Admiral, Sir Josua Houghton, was also able to arrange for an exchange of prisoners with the Spanish in Algeciras — all the Spanish soldiers captured at Sesimbra against an almost equal number of British sailors, most of them captured from merchantmen that had fallen to Spanish privateers. These men jumped from the frying pan of the Spanish gaols into the fire of a life aboard a man-of-war. Nevertheless, with twenty-five marines, the freed seamen brought Daring almost to complement, and she would join the ships when they would leave Gibraltar for their next raid on the Portuguese coast.

Tony spent most of the days in Gibraltar on shore, getting to know his son again and trying to get closer to Emily. In the evenings, they entertained Tony’s fellow captains in their house. Captain Masters made no bones about the fact that he, like almost every other subaltern officer in the Jamaica station, had admired Harriet, and he professed his dismay when he learned of her return to England with her mother. Inevitably, talk also turned to Andrew Lambert, but Harriet could tell little beyond the fact that Andrew was still in command of Medusa.

Also, a letter arrived from Oxford, in Siobhan Trilby’s handwriting. They had indeed married before Major Trilby moved to Oxford and joined his new regiment. Almost immediately, Siobhan became with child, and she was deliriously happy, she wrote. Harriet had a warm feeling when she read the letter, remembering her friend with fondness. Everything seemed to be perfect, it seemed.

Thus, Tony was in an elated mood again when they sailed for their next target, just north of Lisbon. Paynter had elaborated that they wanted the French to think that the British intended to establish a beachhead close to Lisbon, turning their attention away from northern Portugal.

This time, they were bearding the lion. They were targeting the coastal village of Estoril, less than twenty miles west of Lisbon, and only two miles east of Cascais. The French had troops in Cascais; it was rumoured that Junot himself used Cascais for his winter quarters. Driving a wedge between Lisbon and Cascais might prod the French into a strong reaction.

Again, Captain Masters would lead the landing force since Toni still showed a strong limp. The advantage of Estoril was the fact that the main approaches were by coastal roads, and these road could be taken under fire by the ships. There was an old castle on one of the beaches, and a more modern fort almost a mile to the East. Even the modern fort had been built almost two hundred years ago, and its ordnance would be almost as old. If caught by surprise, those fortification would have a hard time fending off the British ships-of-the-line.

Thus, tactics would have to be different this time. The boats would land the marines before sunup on a deserted beach three quarter-miles east of the modern fort. The beach was shielded from the fort by a rocky point, jutting out into the sea. Once landed, the marines would march on the fort whilst Warspite and Asia would attack the fort from the sea. It would take the French two hours at least, to get their shot-heating ovens hot, enough time to pummel the place with the big guns and have it taken by the marines.

The old castle to the West would come next, but only once the fort was taken. It was a tall, medieval building, not built to take the sort of punishment that 32-pounders could deal out. Fortunately, the Portuguese had given Admiral Cotton plentiful information regarding the positions and states of their coastal defences.

The evening after sailing, Tony entertained the wardroom in his cabin. Dougherty was invited back, too. It was a belated celebration of the successful raid on Lisbon, and the stay in Gibraltar had allowed Tony to stock up on fresh meat and produce. The mood was excellent, the food fresh and plentiful, and the guests showed the sort of exuberance one can see when an unpleasantness has been overcome for good.

They sailed for three days and two nights until they approached the coast west of Lisbon. Using her excellent turn of speed and her complete set of French signal flags and codes, Daring reconnoitred the coast, masking as French corvette. Dougherty even exchanged private recognition signals with a fort in Cascais. This led to a change of plan.

Once the morning dawned, Daring approached Estoril followed by York which flew the French colours over the Union Jack, as if she had been captured by the French corvette. Both ships were trailing launches. With private signals exchanged, the French let them approach and anchor just a cable length off the shore.

When the marines and sailors tumbled down into the boats and made for the shore, the French barely had the time to sound the alarm. The vanguard of the marines stormed the rear gates before the surprised French could have them closed. Some fighting ensued inside the walls, but more marines were landed and poured into the fortress, quickly subduing any resistance.

Leaving behind a strong rear guard to man the fort, Major Applethorn marched the bulk of his men on the medieval castle. Here, the defenders were alert but outnumbered badly. With sailors scaling the walls on four sides using grapnel hooks, the thinly spread defenders were outmatched, and once a sally port was opened from within, the marines took the castle with minimal casualties.