Fire and Sword (77 page)
Authors: Simon Scarrow
Dalrymple’s expression hardened. ‘I thank you for the lecture, Wellesley, but I think you misjudge our enemy. Junot’s attack yesterday was clumsy and ill-considered. He underestimated the British army and paid the price. I will not repay him in kind.Who is to say that he is not preparing a trap for us even now? He has been in Portugal long enough to learn the lie of the land.We have been here a matter of days and I say it would be rash to throw caution to the wind and rush after the enemy. So we will wait until Moore arrives, and then consider the situation. That is my decision, gentlemen. If that is quite all right with you, Wellesley?’
Arthur felt anger pierce his heart. Dalrymple was evidently the kind of commander who was inclined to jump at the least shadow. He was wrong to sit here at Vimeiro and wait for more men, Arthur was certain of it. Even though the chance to crush Junot utterly had been lost the day before, the advantage still lay with the British, if they acted now. But Dalrymple was his superior and he had made his decision. The matter was settled, whatever Arthur may think. So he kept his mouth shut and nodded.
‘Good!’ Dalrymple smiled and clapped his hands together. ‘Now then, gentlemen, I suggest we repair to lunch. My staff have prepared a modest feast down on the shore, by way of a celebration of yesterday’s battle.’ He turned to Arthur.‘Now that at least will be to your taste, eh?’ Then he laughed at his unintended pun, and Arthur forced himself to smile as the other officers joined in.
Before he could respond there was a sudden pounding of hooves outside the tent. A moment later a young infantry captain entered the tent and snapped to attention in front of Arthur, his chest heaving from his wild ride.
‘Sir, beg to report that—’
Arthur raised his hand.‘I am no longer the commander of the army. You should address yourself to General Dalrymple.’
The captain glanced towards Dalrympe uncertainly and the latter frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘Sir, beg to report that the enemy has sent an officer to our lines with a flag of truce. He says that General Junot wishes to discuss an armistice.’
‘An armistice?’ Dalrymple looked surprised for an instant before a smile spread across his countenance. ‘Already? By God, the campaign is as good as over. Have this French officer brought here at once.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The captain saluted and turned smartly on his heel to leave the tent. Once he had gone Dalrymple looked round at his senior officers. ‘An armistice, then. It would seem that Junot is a beaten man after all. One battle and the enemy is humbled.’
That was stretching the truth a bit far, Arthur reflected. Junot had been given a reprieve, and would naturally seek to turn any truce to his advantage. Even though he had lost on the field of battle, he might yet secure a victory of sorts over the negotiating table.
Dalrymple dismissed all his officers save Arthur and Burrard, and passed the word for an honour guard to be assembled outside the tent. Shortly afterwards came the sound of horses approaching, and the British commander led the way outside to greet the French officer formally as he dismounted.
At a sharp word of command the company of grenadiers lining the approach to the tent snapped to attention and presented arms. The French officer pulled his sleeves down and straightened his jacket before striding towards Dalrymple. As he approached Arthur saw that the man was about the same age as himself and, judging from the proliferation of gold braid on his blue uniform coat, a general officer. His hair, streaked with grey, was tied back in a short tail, and though his features were heavy there was an intelligent spark in his eyes. He smiled slightly as he stopped in front of Sir Hew and bowed.
‘General Kellermann at your service, sir.’
His English was good, Arthur noted, though there was a faint accent to it that he could not immediately place.
‘Sir Hew Dalrymple at yours.’ The British commander returned the bow with a nod and gestured to the two men at his side. ‘May I present Sir Harry Burrard, my second in command, and Sir Arthur Wellesley.’
Kellermann’s eyes fixed on Arthur for a moment before he turned his gaze back to Dalrymple. ‘May I offer my congratulations on your fine victory yesterday, sir? I have never seen such magnificent troops as yours in battle. Steady as a rock and yet handled with a lightness of touch that does full credit to you, sir. I only wish our men had been equal to the occasion.’
‘Ah, yes . . .’ Dalrymple replied awkwardly. ‘The truth is that I have only just arrived, General.You were defeated by General Wellesley.’
Kellermann glanced at Arthur with an appearance of surprise. ‘I am confused. Surely in your absence General Burrard would have been the ranking officer.’
‘General Burrard did not reach the field until after the battle was as good as won,’ Dalrymple explained.
‘Ah, I see.’ Kellermann nodded, then turned very deliberately to Arthur and bowed. ‘Then it is to you that I offer my congratulations.’
Arthur bowed in return, sensing the irritation of both his superiors.
Dalrymple cleared his throat. ‘Yes, well, you’d better come inside the tent, General Kellermann.’
He led the way inside and the three British officers took their seats behind the table while Kellermann settled opposite them.
‘Now then,’ Dalrymple began, ‘you wish to discuss terms for an armistice.’
‘Yes, sir. My superior, General Junot, has authorised me to negotiate for the complete withdrawal of French forces from Portugal.’
Dalrymple’s eyebrows rose. ‘The surrender of Portugal?’
‘In effect, sir, yes.’ Kellermann nodded, then drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket.‘The detailed terms are set out here. I have taken the liberty of translating them into English.’
‘Your command of our tongue is commendable,’ said Arthur. ‘But I cannot quite place the accent.’
Kellermann smiled.‘I had the honour of representing my country at our embassy to your former colonies in America.’
‘Ah!’ Burrard nodded. ‘That explains the coarseness of the accent.’
‘For which I apologise.’ Kellermann smiled again as he passed the sheet of paper across the table. ‘Now, if you wish to consider the terms proposed by General Junot.’
Dalrymple looked at the document before passing it on to Burrard, and then Arthur read through it. Junot proposed to surrender every fortress and town in Portugal and evacuate the country. In return he asked that his gallant and generous British opponents should permit the repatriation of his army to France, together with all its equipment and property. When he had finished Arthur lowered the document and looked up at Kellermann with a feeling of concern. If Dalrymple accepted the offer, then the French army would be spared to fight another day. To be sure, lives would be spared, but the opportunity to truly humiliate the French would be lost. Junot had shrewdly calculated that he could at least save his army if he offered to quit Portugal without a fight.
Dalrymple slid the document back in front of him. ‘This would appear to be a reasonable basis on which to proceed. Of course the precise details would need to be discussed.’
‘Indeed,’ Arthur added, fixing his gaze on Kellermann. ‘To begin with, precisely how do you propose to repatriate your forces?’
‘Alas, since the French fleet was defeated by your Lord Nelson our navy has not been equal to the tasks requested of it. So it would seem most reasonable to ask that the army is conveyed to a home port by British ships.’
‘British ships?’ Arthur was astonished. ‘In British ships? Out of the question.’
‘Restrain yourself, please,Wellesley,’ Dalrymple said firmly, and spoke to Kellermann again. ‘And why should we agree to such a suggestion?’
The Frenchman shrugged. ‘It is the quickest way to remove our soldiers from Portugal. Of course, if you would be prepared to wait until a sufficient force of French warships was ready to carry them away . . .’
That would delay the surrender of Portugal for at least a month, Arthur realised. Plenty of time for fresh French columns to arrive from Spain and continue the struggle. The point was clear to all, and Dalrymple nodded.
‘Agreed. There is a convoy of merchant ships, as well as Admiral Cotton’s squadron, lying at anchor. They should suffice for the task.’
‘That is good.’ The Frenchman smiled. ‘I am sure your navy will carry out the task with their customary efficiency.’
‘You can count on it.’
‘Now, is there anything else you wish to query, sir?’ Kellermann continued. ‘If not, then perhaps you and I might draft the armistice now.’
‘Now?’ Dalrymple was taken aback by the sudden challenge.
‘I see no reason why not, sir. There is no need to delay the completion of your conquest of Portugal.’
‘Liberation,’Arthur interrupted.‘We are here to liberate Portugal, not conquer it.We are not Frenchmen.’
‘Tsk, Wellesley,’ Dalrymple muttered. ‘There’s no call for that.’
‘I disagree, sir. There is a world of difference between liberation and conquest. Or at least there should be.’
‘Liberation then,’ Kellermann conceded and turned his attention back to the British commander. ‘May we commence with drafting the agreement?’
‘Yes.Yes, I suppose so.You may leave, Burrard, and you too,Wellesley. Wait for us outside.’
‘Perhaps it would be better for us to remain here, sir,’ Arthur suggested. ‘In case any of the finer points require further discussion.’
‘I am quite capable of making my own decisions, thank you,’ Dalrymple said coldly.‘Now be so good as to leave General Kellermann and myself to draft the document.’
Arthur stared back at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. ‘Yes, sir.’
For the next hour Arthur sat in the shade of an awning a short distance from the tent. From there he had a good view over the slope that had been so hotly contested the day before. Today all was quiet, but the traces of the battle were plain to see: gouges in the earth and rock where cannonballs had thudded home, and the bodies of hundreds of men strewn across the stubble and clumps of gorse and myrtle. Most were French, and only a handful of British corpses had not yet been removed by burial parties. The French dead would have to wait until the last of the redcoats were interred. Some of the bodies were naked, their clothes and other belongings taken in the night by camp followers and the local peasants. A faint breeze stirred and carried the sickening stench of decay up to Arthur and he felt his stomach clench in revulsion.
It was not just the thought of the dead that occupied his mind. He was worried about the terms of the armistice. Although it would mean that the Portuguese campaign was over for the present, with no further loss of life, the prospect of allowing Junot’s army to escape galled him. Worse still, he could imagine how people back in London might react to the news that a French army had been carried home in the holds of British warships.That was the kind of detail the newspapers and public opinion were bound to focus on, rather than the fact that the expeditionary force had achieved what it had set out to do, and expelled French forces from Portugal.
‘Sir!’
He turned and saw a staff officer beckoning to him. ‘Sir, the general wishes you to attend him.’
With a sigh Arthur rose to his feet and strode back across the top of the hill to General Dalrymple’s tent. Inside he saw that his superior and Kellermann were sitting side by side on the far end of the table. Dalrymple indicated the seat nearest Arthur.
‘Sit down,Wellesley.We have a draft for the armistice. Since you had the honour of winning the battle that led to this happy opportunity I feel it only fair that you should witness the fruits of your victory. So I will read the terms through to you and then you may comment on them, if you wish.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Dalrymple proceeded in a dry monotone and when he had finished he laid down the draft. ‘Well?’
There was little deviation from the details they had discussed earlier, but there was one matter Arthur wanted clarification of. ‘I do have a question for General Kellermann, sir. What exactly constitutes the “property” the French wish to take home with them?’
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