Chapter 11: The Fall of Lisbon

October 1807

Gibraltar looked peaceful when the convoy entered the Bay of Algeciras. Asia was shielding the transports as they entered the harbour, maintaining a position to westward, until the transports had berthed. Asia then cast anchor in the roads, and Tony had his gig bring him ashore with the dispatches.

He found the governor’s residence, The Convent, in a veritable uproar. At first, His Excellency, General Sir Hew Dalrymple, Acting Governor, had no time for Tony, but he could be heard issuing orders in an agitated voice. His aide de camp finally relieved Tony of the official mail. He also enlightened him as to the reasons for the governor’s hectic activity. The French and Spanish had started to invade Portugal just days before. Marshal Junot had crossed the border and was advancing on Lisbon.

This was indeed bad news, and Tony knew that the government had to be informed urgently. Sailing Asia back to Portsmouth was contrary to his orders, but Sir Charles Cotton would be able to send a smaller vessel with the news.

“I must sail immediately to rendezvous Sir Charles Cotton’s squadron. Does His Excellency wish to send dispatches to Sir Charles and to London?”

The ADC stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment.

“His Majesty’s Ministry must learn of the development,” Tony explained. “Also, Sir Charles may decide to sail for Lisbon, to render assistance to the Portuguese.”

The ADC finally understood. “I shall ask His Excellency,” he stated officiously.

A few minutes later, Tony had his first look at His Excellency. He was well over fifty; a fussy, worried-looking man whose hands actually shook with excitement when he greeted Tony.

“You must alert Sir Charles, Captain. I am having urgent reports for His Majesty’s Government written. Please, ask Sir Charles to have them sent to London with utmost dispatch. I shall have orders for Sir Charles, too. He must sail for Lisbon, to render support or to evacuate the Portuguese Court.”

Tony almost blurted out that the Governor of Gibraltar had no authority over a vice admiral, but he could see that Dalrymple was a little beside himself. He knew that Cotton was off Cadiz, blockading the remnants of the Spanish Navy. He could be there within a day if the prevailing Levante wind held.

“I shall ready my ship immediately, Your Excellency. When may I expect your dispatches?”

The ADC spoke up. “We are still gathering information, Sir Anthony. We are expecting more intelligence this afternoon. I believe it best if you were to sail by tomorrow morning.”

“With all due respect, the wind is favourable right now,” Tony contradicted. “A shift to west can easily lock me in the strait for days.”

“If you think so, Sir Anthony, we can have most dispatches ready by early afternoon,” the ADC conceded.

“I should appreciate that,” Tony answered. “With your permission, I shall ready my ship. I shall send a messenger by two o’clock. Would you perhaps know where I may find a Captain Tushingham?”

The ADC nodded with emphasis. “I can do better, Captain. He is here, in fact, to lend his naval expertise in this dire situation.”

Indeed, not five minutes later, an elderly man in Captain’s uniform entered, a weak smile on his weatherbeaten face.

“A Good Day, Sir Anthony!” he greeted Tony.

“Good day, sir,” Tony answered. Tushingham was a very senior captain after all.

“Your father-in-law sent me letters, of course, asking me to find accommodation for his ... I mean, for Lady Carter. You will be pleased to hear that I was able to rent a lovely house, just a stone’s throw away from here and close to the Holy Trinity Cathedral. It belongs to one of the premier merchants who happens to own a bigger one closer to the harbour.”

“I appreciate your efforts, Sir. Is it possible for my wife to move in immediately? I have to sail within the day.”

“But of course! I’m finished here anyway. I offered my help, but nobody here seems to consider the need to listen to naval expertise.”

“They seem quite excited, Sir,” Tony remarked drily, raising a chuckle from Tushingham.

“You’d think, they’re a bunch of Frogs, the way they’re yelling and waving their arms.” Tushingham made sure they were alone. “Dalrymple is an old woman, a ninny if ever there was one. A veteran of the Flanders campaign. Hah! All he can have learned there was how to waste time. Well, let’s leave. Would you mind if I accompanied you? I haven’t set foot on a ship’s deck in a year.”

“Certainly, Sir. Perhaps I can invite you to a quick lunch? Afterwards, we can see my wife to her accommodations.”

They quickly strode down to the harbour. Tony saw both the launch and the cutter at the quay, with Mister Standish supervising the loading of fresh produce. John Little was there, too, with the gig, and they were rowed to the ship quickly. They found Harriet and Lucy already sitting by the pile of their combined dunnage in the after cabin.

“We heard of the events,” Harriet hastened to explain. “Am I correct to assume that you will sail again today?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I must alert Sir Charles Cotton immediately. Harriet, dear, this is Captain Tushingham. He has found accommodations for you, close to the Governor’s Residence.

“Sir, my wife, Lady Carter.”

“Enchanted, Milady,” Tushingham smiled. “My wife will be very pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure will be mine, Captain Tushingham,” Harriet answered. “May I introduce Mrs. Wilkes? She is the wife of Mister Wilkes, Asia’s surgeon, and a dear friend.”

Tushingham regarded Lucy with a bow and a smile. “Welcome, Mrs. Wilkes. I hope that you will enjoy your stay in Gibraltar.”

Whilst preparations for an improvised dejeuner were made, Tushingham was given a brief tour of the decks by Mister Dougherty, whilst Tony and Harriet hurriedly went over their arrangements once more. His pay would be issued through the Gibraltar Navy Station, and Harriet had its full use for her needs. In addition, Tony had assembled a bag of gold coins of various denominations and issues, providing Harriet with some emergency funds, for the unlikely case that Gibraltar had to be evacuated. Once again, they revelled in a drawn-out hug.

“My darling, be careful!” Harriet besought him. “I shall think of you constantly.”

“Take good care of yourself and of the children, my dearest,” Tony answered. “You’ll see me be back in no time.”

“That’s what I fervently wish for,” she answered wistfully.

A little after noon, the launch transported Tony and Harriet with their entourage to the shore, and Captain Tushingham quickly led them to the house he had rented for Harriet. It was roomy and well aired, albeit with sparse furnishings, but Harriet assured them it would be more than adequate. Summoned by a messenger, the landlord, Mister Abregado, showed and welcomed his new tenants. Through that worthy man, Tony was able to place an order for some urgently needed household fittings before he had to tear himself away from Harriet and the children.

By six bells in the afternoon watch, HMS Asia was sailing from the Bay of Algeciras with the easterly Levanter from abeam, followed by two of the transports, York and Gwendolyn. Both carried provisions for the squadron as well as extra marines above complement.

Merely an hour later, they changed their course to due West, passing Tarifa in plain sight. Nightfall saw them well on their way on a northwesterly course and headed for Cadiz. Asia showed her qualities on that day and during the night, never logging less than eight knots in the moderate wind. Both transports kept pace. Like many of the old 56-gun two-deckers, York was a good sailing ship, especially without her main ordnance. Come the daybreak, they sighted the Bay of Cadiz to starboard and a squadron of ten sail ahead.

Drawing closer quickly, it became clear that the ships ahead were Sir Charles Cotton’s Iberian Squadron, with HMS Prince flying his flag. Prince was a massive second-rate of 98 guns, and Tony remembered her from Trafalgar. The word in the fleet was that she sailed like a water-logged haystack, and Captain Grindall’d had a hard time to engage the French in time before their surrender. Nevertheless, she sunk the French Achille and in the aftermath of the battle, she provided tireless service to the fleet, saving hundreds of sailors and towing more than one ship to safety. Now she was Cotton’s flagship.

Private recognition signals were exchanged and the next signals ordered Asia to take position one cable length to leeward of Prince. That was easy enough for Tony. He had to cross Prince’s bows and go to the wind. They crossed the flagship’s bows less than two cable lengths ahead and when Prince’s bowsprit was abeam, Tony had the helm laid a-lee. She settled on her new course, and when her sails were drawing, she was a cable-length to leeward of the flagship.

The gig was lowered, and Tony rushed down the Jacob’s ladder with the tarred satchel bag containing the dispatches. Two minutes later, the bowman hooked onto Prince’s chains, and Tony climbed the side of the three-decker. Captain Sir Richard Grindall, KB, greeted Tony at the entry port to the twitter of four boatswain’s pipes.

“Welcome aboard, Sir Anthony,” he said, offering his hand.

Tony shook the proffered hand.

“Thank you, Sir Richard. I have urgent dispatches for Sir Charles, from Gibraltar.”

Grindall nodded. “Then we better not dawdle. Allow me to show you the way!”

Tony followed the flag captain aft along the upper deck and to the Admiral’s cabin. Sir Charles was in his day cabin, sitting at his dinner table with another captain and having breakfast.

“Ah, Captain Carter! Smart sailing!”

“Thank you, Sir Charles. If I may, I bring urgent dispatches from Sir Hew Dalrymple. The French are invading Portugal.”

“Is that so?” Cotton asked, maintaining stoicism. “Captain Paynter, Captain Carter! Captain Paynter is my chief of staff. If you were so kind as to hand him those dispatches, then perhaps I can tempt you to join me at breakfast?”

Handing over the tarred canvas bag, Tony bowed politely.

“With the greatest pleasure, Sir Charles.”

Cotton nodded and turned to his flag captain.

“Captain Grindall, kindly signal the squadron to go about. Set a course for Lisbon. We may have to evacuate what’s left of the Portuguese court.” He turned his attention back to his plate. “Still, there’s no sense in interrupting a perfectly good breakfast.”

A servant poured coffee for Tony whilst another servant offered him a plate of cold pastry.

“You delivered those transports to Gibraltar, Captain?”

“Yes, Sir Charles. We encountered corsairs, off Saint-Malo, but we were able to sink one of them, and the other gave up.”

“Splendid! You have that report included?”

“Yes, Sir Charles. We also landed sixty surviving French as prisoners in Gibraltar.”

One-eighth of three-hundred pounds head money was a mere £37, but Sir Charles nodded with satisfaction nonetheless.

“What sort of ship is Asia?” he asked next. “You captured her yourself from the Frogs in ‘05, didn’t you?”

“Indeed, Sir Charles. She’s fast for a third-rate and yet roomy. Seaworthy, too, with a low gravity centre. We’re shipping 32-pounders on the maindeck and 18-pounders on the upper deck. I’ve had her for almost two years, and she’s shown no weak points whatsoever.”

“That’s good to hear. I can use a fast third-rate.” He looked up at Captain Paynter. “Er, yes?”

“Here’s a letter of introduction, Sir Charles. It’s addressed to you personally.”

Suddenly, Cotton’s demeanour changed. The look he cast at Tony was decidedly surly as he ripped open the seal and began to read. After a few moments, his facial expression changed and Tony thought he even blushed. Sir Charles looked up.

“I have jumped to conclusions, Sir Anthony. I’m sorry. I thought your father-in-law had sent this.”

Tony understood and nodded. Cotton had thought that the letter was for his benefit. He nodded and allowed himself a smile.

“Sir Richard has been very helpful to me, but he trusts me to handle myself on my own, Sir Charles.”

“Certainly, Sir Anthony. This is from the Private Secretary of His Majesty, calling my attention to one of your lieutenants. I am advised that all efforts should be made to ready the young man for a speedy promotion. His commission is from October, isn’t it?”

Tony nodded with a smile. “He’s my Nº 6. He is not a bad young man, but he’s a very junior lieutenant.”

“Grandnephew of the King, eh? Well, in my squadron, he’ll have to wait his turn and pay his dues. Enough of that. We have bigger fish to fry. Let me work through Sir Hew’s dispatches, not that I expect any enlightenment from that corner. Return to your ship for now. See here, Paynter, what tactical position for Asia?”

“Nº 2, I should think, Sir Charles. With her speed and size, she’s likely the best fighting ship in the squadron.”

“Very well, Captain Carter. Nº 2 it is. Welcome to the squadron.”

“Thank you, Sir Charles. With your leave.”