Dugdale opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing.
"What is it, Mr Dugdale?" Bampton said caustically.
"Er, after the late complete destruction of the French at the Nile, surely they have nothing left to throw at us?"
"You are forgetting Cartagena," Bampton said heavily, "the Spanish battle fleet."
"And Mallorca," added Renzi. "It would be strange if the Spanish do not maintain a standing force there for mutual pro-tection—and less than eight leagues to the west from Minorca, half a day's sail. This could do us a real mischief at the time of our landing even if we have the advantage of surprise. Cartagena is ten times the distance and the issue could be decided before they receive any intelligence and are able to respond."
"We cannot discount that our intentions against Minorca are known. The Spanish may well be at sea and lying in ambuscade for us," Bampton said irritably. "In any case, Captain Faulkner has set me a task."
Renzi raised an eyebrow. "Presumably involving us."
"As a matter of fact it does. I'm to put before you all that one liaison officer from each ship has been requested by the commodore to attend his councils with the army command." He paused. "Any officer interested is asked to put himself forward. Should there be none, the commodore will be under the necessity of detailing one himself. As too vital in the management of the ship I am to be excluded, as is Mr Dugdale on account of his junior status. Therefore I am open to suggestions from the remainder."
Adams glowered. "It'll be jawing all day, notes and reports all night. Not if I ever have the choice."
Renzi stared into space.
"Then I'll do it," Kydd said. "At th' least I'll get t' know what's afoot." But foremost in his mind was the possibility of notice and the first chance of seizing any prospect of active service that came his way. Yes—this was a positive, Nelson-style move.
The secret rendezvous was the line of 40° 25' north latitude, where it seemed at first glance a mighty fleet was gathered. But closer observation revealed that there were only two ships-of-the-line other than Tenacious, and half a dozen assorted light frigates and cutters; the rest were transports and supply craft. With fifteen enemy ships-of-the-line in Cartagena, or possibly at sea close by, Kydd wondered whether this was showing great confidence—or disastrous folly.
In the great cabin of the 74, HMS Leviathan, Commodore Duckworth, a large, well-built man with an open, seamanlike face, started proceedings. "I have the honour to welcome aboard Lieutenant General Sir Charles Stuart, field officer commanding the expedition."
By contrast, Stuart was an aristocratic, sharp-featured officer with an impenetrable air of authority. "The reduction of Minorca will not be an easy task," he said briskly, "but the commodore has assured me of the steadfast support of the navy, and I'm satisfied that the operation may proceed without delay."
"You'll understand—" began Duckworth, getting to his feet, but was interrupted by Stuart's continuing.
"This officer is my second in command," he said, nodding at a short, fierce officer who half rose, revealing the tartans and kilt of a Highland regiment. "Colonel the Lord Lynedoch, laird of Balgowan, known in the regiment as Colonel Graham."
Duckworth sat heavily. The navy were not to be the leading players on this stage.
"I shall begin with an overview of the enemy force awaiting us. Our information derives from a hodge-podge of sources and is therefore not necessarily reliable, but opposing us are about five thousand troops, some, it seems, heavy dragoons, others garrisoned in the major fortresses guarding Port Mahon, our prime objective.
"There are as well a considerable number of small forts and gun-towers on the coastline, which we would do well to avoid. My intentions in summary are these. Draw near, if you please," Stuart said sharply, tapping an opened map with a slender polished stick.
"Although Port Mahon is our objective, the landing will be here in the central north, at the Bay of Fornells—there is a good harbour, quite sufficient to bear our transports and larger ships. Having established ourselves ashore, we drive south to the centre of the island and to the town of Mercadal, here. At this point I will split my forces. One division will press west to invest the administrative capital of Ciudadela on the west coast. This is merely to occupy the Spanish while the more important division strikes east to take Port Mahon from landward. Is this clear?"
"Aye, sir, but I foresee that—"
"We shall have opportunity to discuss your objections later, Colonel. Now to the order of battle. The navy: its primary task is to prevent the Spanish fleet interfering with the landing. But equally vital is the need to keep the expeditionary force well supplied and in a timely manner. Finally, I look to the navy to deny the enemy resupply. Therefore as I have mentioned in another place previously, there will be no role for the navy ashore. The twenty-eighth Regiment of Highlanders, Colonel Paget, will be the main field force and will be accompanied ..."
The flow of military verbiage washed over Kydd as he pondered Stuart's strategy. It sounded straightforward enough, but even with his limited experience he could think of many reasons why it could all go wrong.
"Now, Colonel Graham, you have objections, sir?"
"I do, sir. In any venture to put troops ashore we are critically reliant on our understanding of the enemy's positions, that they are not in sufficient numbers to prevent our disembarkation by any means. What intelligence do you have, sir, that encourages you to believe Fornells is open to us?"
Stuart paused. "I do not have direct information, true. There is a species of revolutionary Minorcan zealot opposed to Spanish rule assisting us but their intelligence leaves much to be desired." His lips thinned. "It were better we rely on our own estimates, Colonel. If it transpires that the enemy presses us too hard in Fornells we must abandon the attempt—and strike elsewhere. Addaya to the east has been mentioned."
"With respect, sir."
"Colonel?"
"Just three miles inland there is a road marked, here, passing between the two. If the enemy uses this to transfer forces rapidly between, we will not see them—we will have no warning until they fall upon our exposed landing."
"Colonel Graham! In war, risks must be taken. The landing must take place somewhere—have you any other suggestion? No? Then, sir, we land as planned in Fornells, accepting casualties if need be. Now, on to the details. In the matter of—"
"Sir!" Kydd felt the same exhilaration, the same unstoppable conviction that had carried him on to make the fateful decision to hand over his signal codes to the American navy. Now he was stepping forward in a council-of-war to propose a seaman's solution to an army difficulty.
Stuart stopped, raising his eyes questioningly.
"Sir, L'tenant Kydd o' Tenacious—we can't see th' soldiers from where we are, coming in fr'm the sea as we will."
Stuart continued to look at him stonily, the rest of the cabin turning curiously to look at the usurper. "Yes?"
"Sir, Minorca is a low island, not many hills as you'd say, but in th' sea service when we navigate past we always take a sight of Monte Toro, a single mount y' can see leagues out to sea without ever ye sees the island.
"Should anyone climb t' the top with a spyglass, then nothing can be hid from him—all th' motions of the soldiers will be made clear, it bein' less'n four miles distant, and by this you shall know for a surety in which place to throw in your own forces."
Graham thumped the table. "Preposterous! How is your spyglass man then going to advise General Stuart? Run helter-skelter back down the mountain?" There were sniggers from the other army officers. "Even with a fast horse—"