The Iberian Flame

Chapter 75

Two days later, patrolling vedettes warned of the first enemy – from the direction of Soult’s advance. For the moment Bonaparte’s horde was not in sight.

The defenders on the heights were stood to and the first shock of contact was made.

Marshal Soult took his time in reconnoitre and seemed to come to the same conclusion as Moore – that Elvina was the key to Corunna.

Quickly he took position on the heights opposite and brought up his guns, which began ranging out towards Elvina. They had little effect, only six-pounder field guns against solid walls and rocky bastions, but for the French it was as much a question of time as for their opponents. Soult threw in his forward troops in a massive attack up the slopes towards the little village.

So close did they press the assault that the British could hear the shouts of officers and sergeants: ‘En avant! Tue! Tue!’ But they were met at the crest by riflemen and grenadiers in a furious hand-to-hand fight that ended only with a withdrawal to enable the French artillery to open fire again.

If these were only Soult’s forward troops, it needed little imagination to realise what would be their fate if the entire advancing army went against them.

But in a single hour the situation was transformed.

From around the promontory came a shining vision – first a graceful frigate, then dozens, scores, hundreds of transports in glorious array, one by one taking their place in the harbour off the old town.

In a delirium of cheering, Moore’s men hailed the navy that had come as their salvation.

Kydd felt a wash of release course through him when Corunna Bay opened up and he saw on the foreshore, the quays, even the flanks of hills, an uncountable number of men. General Moore had taken his word and made for Corunna instead.

Giddy with relief, he ordered away his boat. He was met by the army and on horseback taken up Monte Mero to the commander-in-chief.

‘Well met, sir!’ were Moore’s first words. ‘As now we may get on with the business.’ His handshake was crisp and sincere.

‘My apologies, sir, for the lateness as due to contrary winds-’

‘I do understand, Sir Thomas, being as I have my naval adviser,’ he said sharply. ‘Shall we?’

It didn’t take long. Moore’s known order of battle had been translated by Kydd and his staff to individual and specific berths in a ship, both men and guns. As directed by the army, when each was released they would muster on the quayside and be taken out to their assigned transport by a vast flotilla of ship’s boats, lighters and anything that floated.

Back aboard Tyger Rowan reported to Kydd. ‘Sir. My party safe. No casualties.’

The lad was changed almost beyond recognition, thin, rangy and, in some way, nobler in his bearing.

‘Well done, Rowan,’ managed Kydd, touched by the transformation. ‘And I’ll wager you’ve seen enough to keep the midshipmen’s berth tolerably entertained for a year or more to come.’

‘Enough to know the meaning of duty, Sir Thomas,’ he said quietly.