indeed, he reflected. Acre was built on a spur of land that thrust out to sea at an angle to create the harbour. A mole protected the harbour and at the end of the mole stood a lighthouse. The landward side of the city was defended by massive walls and outer works and through his telescope Napoleon could see the barrels of artillery pieces, positioned to sweep the open ground before the city the moment the French launched an assault.Two British warships were anchored outside the harbour, out of range of Napoleon’s field guns in case the French decided to use heated shot.
‘This is going to be tricky. We can only attack on a narrow front, and they can use the mole and the English ships to enfilade our positions. We cannot blockade them, which means the English can bring in supplies and reinforcements at will. Well then, if we can’t starve them out, we’ll have to blast them out. This has to be settled by an assault on the city.’ He turned to Berthier. ‘Any sighting of Admiral Peree’s ships?’
‘Not yet, sir. But they should reach Haifa any day.The artillery train is already there and will bring the siege guns up to Acre the moment they are landed.’
‘Good. Then we’ll see how tough those walls really are.’
Napoleon’s telescope picked out a group of men who had appeared on top of the main bastion. Most were in flowing robes and turbans, and there were a few Europeans amongst them in blue coats with gold epaulettes.Two of the figures stepped on to a platform just behind the ramparts and gazed out towards the French lines. With a thrill of excitement Napoleon realised he must be looking at Ahmad Pasha himself, the man the Turks called
Two can play at that, Napoleon reflected coldly. News of the massacre of Turkish prisoners at Jaffa must have reached Acre by now.Ahmad Pasha and his forces would be in no doubt about the merciless nature of their opponent. Although he took little pleasure in the deed, Napoleon knew that it would unsettle many of the enemy soldiers and he needed every advantage he could wring out of the situation. The French army might well be a match for any soldiers the Sultan and his allies could field, but it was terribly outnumbered and right at the end of a slender line of communications stretching all the way down the coast towards Egypt. Just one setback might shatter Napoleon’s army.The men’s morale was low enough as things stood.The climate, the hostility of the native peoples, and the exhaustion and discomfort of the desert marches together with the bloody assaults on El Arish and Jaffa, had all taken their toll on the French soldiers.
And now the plague had broken out in their ranks. Napoleon had forbidden Dr Desgenettes and his staff to breathe a word about the plague victims they had encountered at Jaffa. The plague house had been sealed off and placed under guard so that its unhappy occupants would die in secret. But, somehow, somewhere in Jaffa, the plague had found its way into the blood of the French soldiers as they looted the city. Already nearly fifty men had been diagnosed with the terrible disease and the first of them had died that morning. Desgenettes had taken over a Greek Orthodox monastery off the road between Jaffa and Acre, and new cases were hurriedly taken out of the sick tents and moved to the makeshift hospital. It was only a matter of time before the secret was out and the men would have one more dread to add to their burden.
Napoleon switched his attention from Ahmad Pasha to the naval officer standing beside him.That must be Sir Sidney Smith, the commander of the small squadron that Admiral Nelson had detached to the Levant to harry the French army. The English naval captain was obviously determined to win a reputation for himself. Even here on the fringe of the civilised world, Napoleon pondered, it came down to a conflict between France and England. It was amusing, Napoleon reflected, that even though they were separated by only a narrow stretch of water, they were obliged to fight each other in conflicts spread right across the world.
The naval officer raised his telescope and swept it over the French lines until it foreshortened into a glinting dot and then he stopped. For a moment the two foes scrutinised each other down the lengths of their telescopes, until the Englishman lowered his glass and waved cheerily before turning away to confer with Ahmad Pasha.
‘We’ll see who’s still smiling in a week’s time,’ Napoleon muttered.
Berthier looked up from his notebook. ‘Pardon, sir?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Napoleon snapped his telescope shut and turned to his chief of staff. ‘I want the approach trenches and the batteries prepared as soon as possible.When the siege guns are in position they will commence firing at once. That central bastion is the key to their defences. If we take that and mount some guns on it, then we can bombard any point of the city at will. See that the orders are given, Berthier.’
For the rest of the day the trenches crept towards the walls of Acre, under constant bombardment from the guns mounted in the towers and the main bastion. Napoleon noted that none of the enemy’s pieces seemed to be heavy guns and was thankful for that small mercy at least. Some time could be saved on the earthworks being thrown up to protect the siege guns. Napoleon returned to his observation point from time to time to check on the progress and watched impatiently as his engineers struggled to break up the hard ground and dig deep enough to provide enough soil to bank up the sides of the trenches and make them safe for the men to approach the walls of Acre. As night fell Napoleon retired to his tent and reviewed his progress. It had taken longer to reach Acre than he had thought, but now the army had begun its siege the end of the campaign was a matter of weeks away. Within days the siege guns would be pulverising the walls until a breach was made.As at Jaffa, his men would pour into the city and sweep the defenders aside.With Acre in French hands Napoleon could return to Egypt, and the warm embrace of Pauline, and prepare to counter the Sultan’s other pincer arm. He went to bed with a warm feeling of satisfaction. It was true that the campaign had been dogged by delay, some misfortune and the bad feeling that had arisen after the massacre of the prisoners on the beach at Jaffa, but in the end they had reached their goal and soon the French flag would be flying above Acre. When word of the victory reached Paris there would be further public acclaim and laurels for his reputation.
Junot woke his general at dawn, an anxious expression on his face.
‘What’s the matter?’ Napoleon sat up. ‘What’s happened?’
‘The men have heard about the plague, sir.The rumour spread through the camp last night.They’re saying that this land is cursed. You should give up the siege and lead the army back to Egypt.’
‘What good would that do?’ Napoleon snapped. ‘We can hardly leave the plague behind. Besides, the men are overreacting. The victims have been isolated and the plague will run its course soon enough.’
‘I doubt that is going to satisfy the men.’
‘You may be right,’ Napoleon conceded. ‘Then we must act now to reassure them. They have to be shown that there’s nothing to fear. Have my staff officers summoned. I think it’s time for a little demonstration.’
‘What kind of demonstration, sir?’ Junot asked warily.
A smile flickered across Napoleon’s lips. ‘You’ll see soon enough, and I pray to God we live to tell the tale.’
As soon as he had dressed, Napoleon and his staff officers mounted up. He had given them no explanation and just wheeled his horse and trotted out of camp. The staff officers and a squadron of the guides followed him back down the road towards Jaffa before turning off into the hills a few miles from the camp. There on a small rise stood an old monastery with weathered walls. Outside stood several carts, tended by French soldiers. As Napoleon reined in outside the monastery the orderlies hurriedly rose to their feet and stood to attention.
‘Where is Dr Desgenettes?’
‘Inside, sir. With the patients.’
‘Well, send him my compliments and ask him to join me out here.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The orderly hurried inside and Napoleon turned back to his staff officers. ‘Junot, tell the guides to dismount and rest their horses. The rest of you are coming with me.’
‘Where, sir?’ Berthier asked nervously as he stared at the monastery. ‘Not in there, surely?’
‘You’re not afraid, are you, Berthier?’
‘Sir, I know what this place is. It would be madness to remain here another moment. We should leave. At once.’
‘Not until I’ve made my point.’ Napoleon turned at the sound of footsteps crossing the threshold of the monastery’s arched entrance, and saw Dr Desgenettes emerge from the dim interior. He looked exhausted and the surgeon’s apron he wore was soiled and stained with blood. He saluted. ‘I must say, I’m surprised to see you here, sir.’
