‘No, Sir William, other than that I now have the detailed estimates for the restoration of the forts.’
Sir William held Colonel Norris’s gaze.
‘The first estimates were in my judgement too imprecise. We have been calculating them afresh these past three weeks, else I would have sent them to London.’
‘Very well, and what is the precise cost?’
‘In sterling, six hundred and fourteen thousand.’
Sir William blinked.
‘And two hundred and twenty thousand for their equipping and provisioning.’
Sir William looked at the charge, who said nothing. ‘By my understanding that is three times their original cost, Norris.’
‘Yes, Sir William, but the lines are in poor repair.’
‘And the Portuguese are able to find such a sum?’
‘I do not know, Sir William. The ministry has yet to present the estimates to the Cortes.’
Sir William looked at the charge again.
This was Mr Forbes’s area of expertise, and he at last felt confident in expressing his opinion. ‘I know the figure to be beyond the country’s immediate means, and that it does not include any element of compensation to those whose industry and livelihood would be interrupted. I am told that the regent would look to a subsidy from England.’
Sir William was puzzled. ‘Then the authorities
The charge did not hesitate. ‘I did not say that, Sir William. The war minister’s opinion, Senhor Saldanha’s, is that if it were a condition of intervention on our part then he would agree to it and seek to raise the money – principally, as I said, by requesting a subsidy from London, but also in loans, although I have to say that I do not imagine credit will be easy to come by, in the circumstances.’
‘I believe I am correct in stating that any substantial subsidy would not be voted by parliament,’ said Sir William, shaking his head in a way that suggested the notion was preposterous. Then he turned to Colonel Norris again, and fixed him very intently.
Norris looked uncomfortable.
‘What would be the consequence of occupying the lines as found?’
‘I . . . that is . . . it would not serve, Sir William, for the defences are not in any condition to stand.’
‘And if the money
‘Three to four months, Sir William.’
Lieutenant-General Sir William Clinton, beetle-browed, lowered his voice. ‘You may suppose that if His Majesty’s ministers send troops as promptly as they do now, His Majesty’s ministers are of the opinion that invasion is imminent.’
Colonel Norris now looked distinctly uncomfortable.
‘What is your alternative design?’
‘Alternative? I do not have one, Sir William. My initial appreciation of the situation determined me upon the best course, which is the restoration of the lines of Torres Vedras.’
Sir William slammed his hand on the table. ‘Damn it, man! There’s neither the money nor the time to restore the lines! Have you no other thoughts on the matter?’
Colonel Norris was stunned. He opened his mouth, but he could only splutter.
‘Ash, give me that paper of Hervey’s!’ barked Sir William.
What was left of the colour in Norris’s face drained away. ‘Major Hervey? What has he to do with it?’
Sir William ignored the protest. He all but threw the manuscript across the table. ‘See, here: it was you who forwarded it to London, I imagine?’
Colonel Norris turned the pages of the memorandum, and its detailed annexes, with increasing alarm – and anger. It was familiar enough, but no more welcome than on the first occasion he had seen it. ‘No, Sir William, I did
Sir William turned to the charge, as though he did not hear. ‘Mr Forbes, I should like to go at once to meet Senhor Saldanha.’ He rose and walked from the room without a word.
CHAPTER FOUR
REPUTATIONS
Hervey sat down again as the door closed. It had been three days since he had given Dr Sanchez his letter for Dom Mateo, and there had been no acknowledgement from Elvas. Sanchez had assured him he need not worry: the ‘authorities’ had no objection to a reasonable correspondence. Indeed, they believed it would help secure his prompt release – on the proper terms. It was just that the couriers were slow; and, no doubt, the censor too. But to Hervey there could
No place was calculated to stir memories of ignominy like Corunna. In all that had passed since, in his heights and in his depths, Corunna still had the power to shock him, to sadden him, to make him anger faster than most everything else. He had watched the heroes of his boyhood, His Majesty’s redcoats, behave with every perversion the Mutiny Act could name during that retreat to the sea. He had watched as officers turned their back on duty; he had seen the cruellest destruction of the noblest of animals; he had witnessed craven merchant captains abandon their ships and their human cargoes; and at Plymouth, when they had finally been delivered from the nightmare, he had seen the horror in the faces of his fellow countrymen as they beheld the condition of the nation’s soldiers. He had been but seventeen, and he had wondered if there could be any recovery from such a calamity – in his own