‘Weather permitting?’ Napoleon glanced out to sea. ‘Surely the admiral is not afraid of a few waves?’
Berthier shrugged.‘He says that there may be a gale brewing up, sire, in which case it would be dangerous for the transports and gunboats to put to sea.’
The anticipation and tension of waiting for Villeneuve to arrive had added to Napoleon’s exhaustion after the journey from Milan, and he snapped back irritably to his chief of staff. ‘The review will take place. I order it. I will not let a little breeze make a coward of the admiral.You tell him that!’
‘A little breeze?’ Berthier glanced out to sea where long grey rollers were sweeping in from the ocean. He bit his lip, and when he turned back and saw the dark expression on the Emperor’s face he swallowed nervously. ‘Yes, sire. I will tell him at once.’
The wind continued to grow in strength during the rest of the morning and by noon there was a gale blowing in over the coast, moaning as it whipped across the tiles of the inn that served as the imperial headquarters. Napoleon sat at a large table strewn with maps marking the positions of the invasion army and the routes they would take once they landed in Britain. But his mind was not on the details before him. He was deep in thought over the latest news he had received from Paris.
Talleyrand’s report told of the continuing preparations for war by Austria and Russia.The Tsar had apparently vowed to put an end to the ‘monstrous regime of revolutionary France’. There was some good news, however. Talleyrand had managed to buy Prussian neutrality by offering them Hanover. King Frederick William was only too pleased at having won a new land without having had to fight a war. Napoleon smiled to himself. Clearly the man had no scruples, and, more importantly, no courage. Indeed, the main threat to French interests at the Prussian court was not the King but his wife, Louise, who hated France with all her passion.
‘The only real man in the whole of Prussia,’ Napoleon mused.
Berthier looked up from the end of the table where he was copying Napoleon’s orders in a fair hand for distribution to the small staff of secretaries. ‘Sire?’
‘It was nothing.’ Napoleon flicked his hand dismissively, glanced at the clock against the wall and then stood up abruptly. ‘Is Admiral Bruix ready?’
Berthier shrugged. ‘He has not sent word yet, sire.’
‘Then find him and bring him to me at once. I want the review to commence within the hour. I will brook no further delay. Tell him.’
Berthier nodded, scribbled down the order and left the room in search of an orderly to carry the message to the admiral. Napoleon crossed to the window and looked out at the harbour. Down on the quay stood the men of the division waiting to be rowed out to their vessels. He had ordered Bruix to demonstrate the landing procedure with thirty barges. Once the men were aboard, the flotilla would pass along the shore while Napoleon and his staff watched their progress from a specially erected pavilion. After that the men would demonstrate a landing on the shore. It would be a useful experience for all concerned and Napoleon was looking forward to analysing the procedures to see if he could suggest any improvements.That would put Bruix and the other naval officers in their place, he reflected, and give his subordinates one more example of their Emperor’s omniscience.
A sudden patter of rain against the glass drew Napoleon’s attention back to the weather. Overhead a thick band of cloud had blotted out the last patch of blue sky and a fresh gust of wind hurled the rain against the window with a sharp rattle.A moment later the view of the harbour had dissolved in the blur of water running down the window panes.
There was a rap on the door and Napoleon turned away from the window. ‘Yes?’
Berthier entered, followed by Admiral Bruix and two of his senior officers. The small party approached Napoleon and bowed their heads respectfully.
‘I assume that everything is in hand for the review?’ said Napoleon.
The admiral seemed to wince before he replied.‘Sire, it is not safe to proceed.’
‘Not safe?’
Bruix gestured towards the rain-lashed window. ‘There’s a gale blowing. It would not be safe. I have given orders for the review to be cancelled.’
‘You do not give the orders here, Admiral. I do. And I ordered you to prepare the review.’
‘But, sire, in this weather it would be madness.’The instant the word was uttered Bruix realised his mistake and hurriedly tried to conceal the error in a rush of explanations. ‘The boats ferrying the men out to the barges could be swamped. The vessels are already overloaded with supplies and equipment. The moment they try to tack out to sea they might be blown on to the shore.’
‘Could be? Might be?’ Napoleon snapped. ‘Where is your courage, Admiral? Where is your determination to see your orders through? Have you no sense of duty?’
Admiral Bruix’s face coloured at the attack on his integrity. ‘I know my duty, sire. It is my duty to preserve the men and vessels under my command so that they are fit and ready to do battle with the enemy. As such, it is my decision to delay the review until the weather improves.’
‘I see,’ Napoleon replied icily. ‘Then it is my decision to dismiss you from your post, with immediate effect.’
‘What?’ Admiral Bruix’s eyes widened in astonishment.‘You can’t do that.’
‘It is done. Berthier?’
‘Sire?’
‘Inform the naval ministry at once. And then see that Monsieur Bruix is removed from our presence and sent home.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon swept his gaze away from the hapless admiral and fixed it on the nearest of the other naval officers. ‘You.What is your name?’
‘Vice-Admiral Chaloncy, sire.’
‘Well then, you will take command of the naval forces in the harbour, and give orders for the review to continue.’
‘Sire, I . . .’ The vice-admiral glanced helplessly towards Bruix and Napoleon slammed his hand down on the table, making the others jump.
‘Damn you navy officers! Is there not one man amongst you ready to do his duty?’
The third naval officer stepped forward at once. ‘I’ll give the orders, sire.’
‘You are?’
‘Vice-Admiral Magon, sire.’
Napoleon stared at him and then nodded. ‘Very well.You are now promoted to admiral. See to it that there is no further delay.’ His glance flicked back to the other naval officers. ‘As for you two, get out of my sight.’
By the time word arrived at headquarters to announce that the men had boarded their vessels and the review was ready to begin, the rain was lashing down across the coast and the sea was a heaving mass of lead-coloured waves, fringed with white caps and spume where the wind carried off the spray. The barges, under heavily reefed sails, and towing launches, battled to keep their stations as the flotilla prepared to sail past the imperial pavilion on the beach. Napoleon and his staff, wrapped in oilskins and clasping their hats on their heads with their hands, made their way down through the cobbled streets of the port and out along the strip of sand and shingle to the pavilion.