But there was no army massing ahead, no sudden opening of an artillery barrage. Only an ominous silence. Under low grey skies, the wind piercing their damp bodies, they marched on, nearer and nearer. A road firmed, leading into the suburbs and making the going much easier, and on either side there were curious flat-roofed houses, faces at the windows. Surely-
‘Flag o’ truce, sir!’
Six mounted soldiers under a white flag were winding their way towards them.
‘Halt the advance,’ Beresford ordered. ‘Let’s hear what they’ve got to say for themselves.’
The men were in splendid uniform, with gold sash and silver spurs, but there was an air of controlled ferocity about them. Stepping his mount forward, the general’s Spanish-speaking aide heard them out.
‘Sir,’ he said to Beresford, in a perfectly even voice, gesturing towards the most richly dressed. ‘This is the Virrey Diputado Quintana. He desires a parley concerning capitulation.’
‘Damn it!’ Beresford hissed. ‘His or ours?’
‘He is empowered to give up the entire city of Buenos Aires, sir.’
There was a shocked pause, then Beresford came back haughtily: ‘Tell ’em I’ll only discuss that with Viceroy Sobremonte himself.’
The men exchanged quick looks, their gaze dropping. His dark features contorted with shame, Quintana muttered something and looked away.
‘Sir, the viceroy has fled the capital and is unavailable.’
A breathless sense of unreality stole over Kydd. That they had thought to seize Buenos Aires with a mere handful of soldiers was incredible, but that they were now conquerors of the whole Spanish empire in the south with those same few was beyond belief.
‘Ah. Then, er, my terms are these. The honours of war to these stout defenders, the protection of the people and their property, and the foreseeable continuation of their justice and, er, municipal authority.’
This was the same as offered to the inhabitants of Cape Town, Kydd remembered.
‘Sir, they ask two hours for deliberation.’
‘Not granted. In half an hour my advance must resume and I cannot be held responsible for what my enraged Highlanders will do in the event of resistance by the city.’
The deputation withdrew, but when they returned, Quintana agreed and stiffly offered his sword. Beresford accepted it and, in accordance with his own terms, graciously returned it. ‘We shall enter the city in three hours, gentlemen.’
It had happened.
Popham’s audacious plan to bypass Montevideo had succeeded.
And at exactly the time specified, the British South American Expedition marched off to take possession.
In the event it was the best show that could be made – thin rain was beginning to fall again and, apart from some pipers and drummers, there was no military band. The soldiers were ordered to march well spaced in open order and stepping short to give an impression of greater numbers.
Kydd, riding with the staff, gave the honour of leading the Royal Blues to Clinton, who went pink with pleasure. There would be much in his next letter home, no doubt.
They swung along in that same sense of unreality. The houses on either side were now filled with curious onlookers, but Kydd could see no hatred, simply a mix of foreign-looking people looking more confused than hostile. Soldiers grinned at girls on latticed balconies who were waving and smiling, some even throwing blossoms as the men marched past.
The city proper was no sprawling provincial backwater. It was laid out in regular rectangular blocks of substantial buildings, the largest of which were finished in white along fine avenues. They passed a noble twin- spired church and frowning public edifices until at last they reached a vast square facing the river.
There was a domed cathedral, spacious colonnaded buildings and at one end a long arcade with a central arch. The parade marched through, the sound of the pipes and drums echoing dramatically, until they emerged before a massive square fort, the red and yellow colours of Spain prominent on its flagstaff. On all sides and from every passage and doorway, hundreds upon hundreds watched, silent and fascinated.
The parade came to a halt; hoarse shouts from sergeant majors made a show of dressing off and stamping to attention, and then it was the final act.
Beresford dismounted, paced evenly to the disconsolate group at the gates of the fort and answered their salutes smartly. Kydd could not hear what was said but it was clear what was happening. After some polite exchanges and bows, an object was handed over which he guessed must be the keys. The gates were flung open and a small body of soldiers marched out.
Taking the keys, an aide and two soldiers entered the fort. Nobody moved for some minutes and then, abruptly, the flag of Spain jerked down. In its place the Union flag of Great Britain soared up in a breathless hush. A low murmur spread around the square but in the distance came the rumble of guns. It was
It had happened.
Inside the fort it was bedlam. While a distracted Beresford stood at a desk snapping orders to his harassed staff, a constant stream of messengers arrived, continually interrupting with urgent news. He thrust scribbled orders at his aide, which, hastily relayed, brought on distant shouts and commotion as they were put into effect. Other officers impatiently waited their turn for clarification and detail, every man still mud-spattered and dishevelled, direct from the field of battle.
Kydd kept apart, knowing that there was little he could do until the situation cleared. There was, of course, the tantalising prospect that, as his role ashore had been concluded, surely there was nothing to prevent him returning to the comfort and order of his ship. His pulse quickened at the thought but he took in the scene as the future of Buenos Aires was decided.
It was a titanic task: nothing less than the securing of a great city, new conquered.
In the near term, armed parties of reconnaissance would be sent forth, urgently seeking out pockets of resistance, while at the same time a nucleus of rule had to be established to centralise decisions and orders. Then there were the troops, who must be fed and sheltered, lines of supply established, at first with the fleet and later locally and after that . . .
Then it would be necessary to make public announcement of intentions – how the new masters of Buenos Aires would rule, what the position of the former great and good would be in any ruling council and, above all, how the price of victory would be exacted in taxation. With a staff in single figures and few able to speak Spanish, it was going to be a Herculean task to perform in just a very few days. But it had been done before – so recently at Cape Town.
They had achieved their triumph in a very short time – was this why there was no uprising of the disaffected? It would be of incalculable value to be able to install a rebel government, keen to preserve their standing against a Spanish counter-move, but so far none had made communication and therefore, in the sturdy tradition of the British military, they would make shift for themselves.
Seeing his chance, he moved across to Beresford. ‘Sir, I’m truly sorry to intrude, but would you not say my character as a colonel of foot is now at an end?’
When the general looked up, it was with a smile. ‘Ah, yes. You sailors are notoriously restless if kept from your element overlong. I do thank you for your service, sir, and bid you to be gone – but if you’ve no objection, I’ll retain your brigade until things become more certain. You have a lieutenant who . . . ?’
‘You’ll be well served by Lieutenant Clinton, sir,’ Kydd said, exulting inwardly.
A new disturbance sounded outside. The crash of boots and muskets – it could only be the arrival of an officer of rank.
It was Commodore Popham, who strode beaming into the room, his spotless uniform a picture of splendour against the mired soldiers. He acknowledged Kydd’s presence but went straight to Beresford.
‘My word, William, and what a stroke!’ The din subsided a little out of respect for him. ‘The conqueror of Buenos Aires! Three days and you have the city. You’re much to be congratulated, you devil.’
Beresford regarded him stonily. ‘The rabble I faced in the field was not an adversary worth the name, sir.’
‘You prevailed. Saw them off in fine style – that’s all that matters and, I’d say, gives us heart for the future.’
