HMS Diamond (11 page)

      
"What ship?" he demanded.

      
"
Swallow
!" came the reply again.

      
By this time Smith’s gig had hooked on to
Victory’s
side and Smith was making his way on-board where a young lieutenant greeted him.

      
"Welcome aboard, Captain... ah..."

      
"Smith. Sir Sidney Smith. I’ve come to report to Admiral Hood; but I must admit I am a bit surprised at the gathering," he said looking around him to see naval officers from three nations he could identify and a couple he couldn’t.

      
"Yes, Sir. The admiral has called a meeting this afternoon of all British captains and the key officers from our allies."

      
"Why?"

      
"I have no idea, sir; but, if you please, I’ll have a midshipman show you to the Admiral’s cabin."

      
The Admiral’s cabin looked like it had been cleared for action. Almost all the furniture had been moved out, the partitions were drawn up, and a plush Persian rug had been carefully stowed in the hold. A single table and chair stood at the aft end of the room and a few chairs and a couch were provided for some of the more senior officers. Most, however, were standing. Admiral Hood appeared from his living quarters, sat down and called the meeting to order.

      
"Gentlemen, thank you all for coming on such short notice." The room settled down.

      
"As you might imagine, I would not have called you here unless it was a matter of the greatest urgency. In the past 24 hours there have been several... shall we say... most unfavorable developments. You need to know about them, as they will be affecting our stay here.

      
"Captain Maur? Is Captain Maur here? Ah, there you are. Captain Maur is with the 12th Light Dragoons and has just come from Fort l’Eguillette.

      
"Captain, would you be so kind as to summarize the report you gave me this morning?"

      
"Yes, sir." A thoroughly disheveled cavalry captain stepped forward, looking like he hadn’t slept in several days.

      
"Gentlemen, I know of no other way to put this. Toulon is lost." That comment sparked a round of murmuring, but Maur just spoke over it.

      
"Last night the French, under the command of some Corsican colonel called Bonaparte, captured both Fort Balaguier and Fort l’Eguillette. They attacked both forts simultaneously about midnight. Resistance was excellent but it seems the French fought... well... they didn’t fight like Frenchmen. They were very well organized and very determined. We almost bagged this Bonaparte fellow. In fact, I believe he was wounded in the leg by a pike. But, it was to no avail. The impetus was too great and the forts fell.

      
"I don’t need to tell you what that means. We spiked the guns before withdrawing, but that will only slow them down for a few days. They will soon have their own mortars and cannon up there and will be able to reach any part of the inner or outer harbors with red-hot shot. That means..."

      
"That means," Hood cut in, "that our position here is untenable. We must begin withdrawing our ships immediately."

      
A ripple of murmuring again passed through the collected officers until a voice piped up from the back.

      
"Admiral, if we leave, the Republicans will be inside the walls of Toulon in a trice. That city is filled with Royalist supporters—men, women, children, old people—what will happen to them?"

      
Hood slowly looked up from his desk, paused for a moment and said in the saddest voice Smith had ever heard, "They will be killed, sir. Each and every one of them will be killed."

      
This time there was no murmuring—just an icy silence that seemed to go on forever. Another voice spoke up.

      
"Sir, I know the ships cannot stay in the anchorages but could not our troops fall back upon the city? I mean, sir, the place is built like a medieval castle—stout walls, drawbridges, moats and gates, not to mention I don’t know how many redoubts, batteries and strong points."

      
"Yes, captain, that’s true. I am aware that Toulon was originally called Fort de France; but have you ever marked off the length of those city walls? Have any of you? Well let me save you the trouble. Toulon has just over 15 miles of walls. Now, let’s examine your suggestion.

      
"I came here with about 2000 soldiers, seamen and marines that could be used to defend the city. There are maybe 1500 Royalist troops in the town, so that gives me about 3500 men. Spain has contributed about 7000 troops, Naples 5000, and 1500 troops have come from Piedmont. That gives me a total of about 17,000 effective troops to defend a wall 15 miles long against Republican forces that I know number at least 60,000 and may be as many as 120,000. In brief, it can’t be done."

      
Hood paused for a moment, sighed, and continued. "The best we can do is to evacuate as many civilians as we can. That’s why I called this meeting. I want ideas, gentlemen. What is the best way to evacuate those people? How will we do it? In what order of priority? Now, Captain Kyle, I believe you had some thoughts on..."

      
The meeting settled down into a long discussion of ship resources and priorities, but Smith was still stunned by what he had heard. He thought about the thousands of people in a town that lay not two miles away who would be dead in the next few days. Eventually he got to thinking about the small armada of French ships that were still at anchor and knew something had to be done with them.

      
As the meeting drew to a close, he piped up. "Admiral, I have a question."

      
"Yes, ah... I know you from somewhere, do I not?"

      
"Yes, sir. Sidney Smith." He then corrected himself. "Sir Sidney Smith, at your service, admiral. We met, along with Captain Hudson, when I was aboard the
Richmond
. It was at the conclusion of the Battle of the Capes."

      
"Ah, yes. The Prince William affair. Heard about that. Well done, sir. Well done.

      
"Your question?"

      
"Yes, sir. What do you mean to do with all those fine ships of the enemy? Do you mean to leave them behind?"

      
"What do you propose to do with them?"

      
"Burn them, to be sure, sir. Burn them."

      
Hood paused. "Yes, indeed, something must be done. We can not have them falling into the hands of the Republicans."

      
Just then a short young captain with a high nasally voice spoke up from across the room.

      
"Sir, burning those ships is exactly the plan I had in mind. Indeed, in the past few weeks I have spoken of it many times to my colleagues." He looked around to encourage the head nodding of his friends. "Might I suggest that a ship such as my
Agamemnon
would be much better suited to carrying out this mission?"

      
Smith became instantly defensive—and competitive. "Admiral, the
Agamemnon
is a 64-gun ship of the line. My
Swallow
is a xebec and can get into places the
Agamemnon
can’t. This task will call for close-in work."

      
"When you say ‘My
Swallow
...’ you mean that literally, do you not, sir?" the short man countered. "She is not even a Royal Navy ship. You own her personally, is that not correct?

      
"Admiral," he continued, "does the ‘Swedish Knight’ here have orders from the Admiralty to even
be
in Toulon? If not, technically he should not be at this meeting."

      
Smith felt the color rising in his face at the "Swedish Knight" affront and could not let it pass.

      
"Captain... Nelson, I believe? Captain Nelson, the only difference between us is that you have a crew that is paid by someone else, whereas I have the means to pay for a crew myself."

      
It was Nelson’s turn to blush. Smith had hit on one of Nelson’s sore points—his "parson’s son" upbringing and lack of wealth and position. The two glared at each other and instant bonds of dislike and rivalry were formed.

      
"Gentlemen, that will be quite enough," Admiral Hood interjected.

      
"I thank you for your offer, Captain Nelson, but I need the
Agamemnon
for other duties.

      
"Sir Sidney, the job is yours. In addition to the ships, I want you to burn the stores and the magazine in the dockyard. I can give you several gunboats; but that’s all. Captain Edge of the
Alert
and Captain Hare of the
Britannia
will be assigned to you. You can take whatever officers, midshipmen and crew you wish from your three ships.

      
"One last thing. I want you to work with the Spanish admiral, Admiral Langara, on this. He’s still miffed because I am in command here and not he. Maybe this will smooth the waters a bit.

      
"As of this moment, Sir Sidney, your ship has been requisitioned into the Royal Navy. Captain Nelson, if you would be so good as to remain after the meeting I have another assignment for you.

      
"So, if there is nothing more to discuss, we’ll start our evacuation and withdrawal tomorrow afternoon."

***

      
Susan’s head shot up as if she had been struck. "But what’s going to happen to all those Royalists in the city? They put their trust in us!"

      
Smith took a long pull from a pewter cup filled with wine, walked over to the only comfortable-looking chair in his tiny cabin and sat down heavily. "I know, Susan. I know. So does Hood. We’re going to try to evacuate as many as possible, but there’s no way we can get them all."

      
"Oh my God," she exclaimed slowly, drawing out each word. "There are thousands, Sidney. Those Republicans will kill them. Men, women and children, even foreign...

      
"Inge! Sidney, my friend Inge Fuhrmann is ashore. We have to get her out."

      
Smith said nothing. He just continued to look into his mug.

      
Susan whirled around to face Walker. "Lucas?"

      
Walker found something fascinating on the floor to stare at and he too said nothing.

      
"What’s wrong with you two? Didn’t you hear me? We have to get her out."

      
Walker finally replied. "Susan, there really isn’t anything we can do. I am sure she’ll find a way to..."

      
"Find a way? Find a WAY?" Susan said, her voice rising. "Find WHAT way? There are 60 or 70,000 insane Frenchmen in those hills that are even now making their way toward the city. Her only hope is to get onboard one of Hood’s tubs, and we’re about to sail off without so much as a by-your-leave."

      
Walker reached out to Susan but she spun away. "And when, exactly, are you two boys going to start playing with matches?" She put special emphasis on the word "boys" which made Walker wince.

      
"We move as soon as it’s dark," Smith replied.

      
"Well, don’t burn your fingers," she said and slammed the door on her way out.

***

      
The sun was well below the hills that guarded Toulon to the west and the
Swallow
was bathed in an eerie dull yellow glow. Smith stood on the quarterdeck next to the tiller surveying his flotilla and trying to look as dignified as possible. Actually, if the stakes had not been so high the scene would have been comical.

      
The
Swallow
led the procession but was cruising under greatly reduced sail so they would not outrun the other vessels. On their starboard quarter were three British gunboats, 30 feet long, oar-powered and each armed with a single 18-pounder which rested on a track running fore and aft. On the larboard quarter was an eight-oared pinnance from the
Victory
, crammed with seamen that Hood had given him at the last moment.

      
On the larboard beam was a mortar boat that was one of the strangest ships Smith had ever seen. It looked like a small sloop, 60 feet long with four 18-pound carronades on its single deck. But, instead of having a foremast, it had a hole in the deck that ran all the way to the keel. At the bottom of the hole, a 10-inch mortar was braced against the keel for support. The mortar had to be supported that way. Anything less and the recoil would punch the beast through the bottom of the ship the first time it was fired. It was comforting to look at but that’s about all. They had given him the ship, but the mortar had no ammunition.