EGMONT-OP-ZEE AND COPENHAGEN.
Meanwhile the war cloud in Europe was growing apace. Holland had been
forced into an alliance with France. War, no longer a spectre, but a
grim monster, stalked the Continent. Everywhere the hostile arts of
Bonaparte were rousing the nations. The breezes that had stirred the
marshes of Havelet and awakened in Brock a sense of impending danger,
now a furious gale, swept the empires. The roll of drums and roar of
cannon that Isaac had listened to in his boyhood dreams were now
challenging in deadly earnest. The great _reveille_ that was awakening
the world was followed by the British buglers calling to arms the
soldiers of the King.
Notwithstanding the aversion of the English prime minister, Pitt, to
commence hostilities, war was unavoidable. One of the twelve battalions
of infantry selected for the front was the 49th. When the orders were
read for the regiment to join the expedition to Holland, wild excitement
prevailed in barracks. Active service had come at last. The parting of
Brock with his family was softened by maternal pride in his appearance.
The tunic of the 49th was scarlet, with short swallow-tails. The rolling
lapels were faced with green, the coat being laced with white, with a
high collar. The shako, which was originally surmounted by white
feathers with black tips, a distinction for services in the American
war of 1776, at Bunker's Hill and Brandywine, was, at Brock's special
request, replaced by a black plume. The officers wore their hair turned
up behind and fastened with a black "flash." The spectacle of Master
Isaac thus arrayed, in all the glory of epaulets and sabretache and the
gold braid of a full colonel, reconciled the inhabitants of St. Peter's
Port to his departure.
By the end of August the first division of the British army, of which
the 49th was a unit, was aboard the transports in the Zuyder Zee, off
the coast of Holland, and early one morning, under the command of Sir
Ralph Abercrombie, with blare of trumpets and standards flying, they
effected a landing under the guns of the ships of the line, of which,
with frigates and sloops, there were well-nigh sixty. Brock had often
listened to the roar of shot and shell in target practice and sham
fight, but of a cannonade of artillery, where every shrieking
cannon-ball was probably a winged messenger of death, this was his first
experience. He now learned that in the music of the empty shell of
experiment and the wicked screech of the missiles of war there was an
unpleasant difference. He did not wince, but sternly drew himself
together, thought of home, begged God's mercy, and awaited the command
to advance with an impatience that was physical pain.
By four in the afternoon the Hilder Peninsula and its batteries had been
taken, but with a loss to the British of a thousand men. Brock could
scarcely believe that the enemy had retreated. This, however, was merely
a taste of war. The second division having arrived, the whole force of
nearly 20,000 men, under the Duke of York, started to make history. In
the last days of a stormy September 16,000 Russian allies reached the
scene. The fourth brigade, which included the 49th, was under the
command of General Moore--Sir John Moore, of Corunna fame. For several
weeks the waiting troops were encamped in the sand-hills without canvas
and exposed to biting storms. The capture of the city of Horn without
resistance hardly prepared our hero and his men for the stout opposition
at the battle of Egmont-op-Zee that followed.
Brock's brother, Savery, a paymaster to the brigade, though by virtue of
his calling exempt from field service, insisted on joining the fighting
line, acting as aide to Sir Ralph Abercrombie.
Every record, every line written or in print concerning Brock, from
first to last, all prove that the keynote of his success, the ruling
impulse of his life, was promptness and action. So, at Egmont, no sooner
did the bugle sound the advance than he was off with his men like a
sprinter at the crack of the pistol. Others might follow; he would lead.
They were part of the advance guard of a column of 10,000 men. The enemy
was in front in superior numbers, but their weakness lay in underrating
the courage of the British. They had been taught to consider English
soldiers the most undisciplined rabble in the world!
This was a factor unknown and unheeded by Brock. All that he knew was
that an obstacle barred the way.
* * * * *
"Steady, the 49th!"
* * * * *
The loud, clear notes of the leader rang above rasping of scabbards and
suggestive clank of steel. The men straightened. A suppressed
exclamation ran along the line and died to a whisper. Whispers faded
into silence. A fraction of a second, perhaps, and then, high above the
stillness, when British and French alike were silently appealing to the
God of battles, over steaming dyke and yellow sand-dunes rose once more
in trumpet tones the well-known voice, "Charge, men, and use your
bayonets with resolution!" No rules were followed as to the order of
going--the ground, to use Brock's words, was too rough, "like a sea in a
heavy storm"--but the dogs of war were let loose. The quarry was at bay.
Another instant and the air was split with yells, the clash of naked
steel and screams of agony. Then cheer upon cheer, as the British swept
irresistibly on, and the enemy, declining to face the glittering
bayonets and unable to resist the impact of the English, wavered, broke
and retreated.
The shedding of men's blood by man is never an edifying spectacle. The
motive that prompts the attack or repels it, the blind obedience that
entails the sacrifice, the retribution that follows, are more or less
understandable. What of the compensation? There may be times when a pure
principle is at stake and must be upheld despite all hazards, but there
are times when there is no principle at stake whatever. These
considerations, however, have no place in the soldier's manual. They are
questions for the court, not the camp, and cannot be argued on the
battlefield. The soldier is not invited to reason why, though many an
unanswerable question by a dying hero has been whispered in the
trenches.
There was much carnage at Egmont-op-Zee, and many a 49th grenadier "lost
the number of his mess." Isaac directly after the fight wrote to his
brothers that "Nothing could exceed the gallantry of his men in the
charge." To his own wound he referred in his usual breezy and impersonal
way. "I got knocked down," he said, "soon after the enemy began to
retreat, but never quitted the field, and returned to my duty in less
than half an hour."
We must appeal to his brother Savery for the actual facts. "Isaac was
wounded," said Savery, in reply to a request for particulars, "and his
life was in all probability preserved by the stout cotton handkerchief
which, as the air was very cold, he wore over a thick black silk cravat,
both of which were perforated by a bullet, and which prevented it
entering his neck. The violence of the blow, however, was so great as to
stun and dismount him, and his holsters were also shot through."
That the action had been a hot one can be best judged by the official
returns. Out of 391 rank and file of the 49th in the field, there were
110 casualties--30 killed, 50 wounded and 30 missing. Savery Brock
shared the honours with his brother. Oblivious to a hurricane of
bullets, he rode from sand-hill to sand-hill, encouraging the men until
his truancy was noticed and he was halted by Isaac. "By the Lord Harry,
Master Savery," shouted the colonel, loud as he could pitch his powerful
voice, as the big paymaster strode by, his horse having been shot under
him, "did I not order you, unless you remained with the General, to stay
with your iron chest? Go back, sir, immediately." To which Savery
answered, playfully, "Mind your regiment, Master Isaac. You surely would
not have me quit the field now." Of this intrepid brother Isaac wrote,
"Nothing could surpass Savery's activity and gallantry." Another of the
wounded at Egmont was Lord Aylmer, afterwards Governor-General of
British North America. The loss of the enemy was estimated at 4,000. Two
weeks later the British troops--while suffering intensely from severe
weather--met with a reverse in the field, to which, through a
misunderstanding of orders, their Russian allies contributed. The Duke
of York was ordered to evacuate the country. The campaign had resulted
in much experience and high honour for Brock. Quick to perceive and
learn, his powers of observation on the field had enriched his mind with
lessons in the tactics of war never to be forgotten.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF COLONEL JAMES FITZGIBBON]
In the ranks of the 49th was a young Irishman of superior talents. Brock
was not slow to discover his abilities, and "with a discrimination that
honoured both," he later appointed this combative private
sergeant-major. Still later he procured him an ensigncy in the 49th,
finally appointing him adjutant, promotion that the ability and
gallantry of James FitzGibbon, a Canadian veteran of 1812, and the "hero
of Beaver Dams" (Adjutant-General of Canada, 1837, and Military Knight
of Windsor, 1851), amply justified.
If Brock was quick to appreciate merit, he was no less so in detecting
defects. The Russian soldiers came in for scathing criticism. The type
at Egmont impressed him most unfavourably. The clumsy Russian
foot-soldier was his special aversion. The accuracy of his criticism has
been confirmed by military writers, but this book is not for the purpose
of weighing the quality of Russian valour in Holland. Six thousand of
these Russian allies, the lateness of the season preventing their return
home, were later quartered for six months in Guernsey.
While our hero was a severe military critic, he was never an unjust one,
neither did he spare his own men. Though not a martinet, which was
foreign to every fibre of his nature, he was a stickler for rigid
discipline. When the expedition was recalled, he was first quartered in
Norwich, and then at the old familiar barracks of St. Helier, in Jersey.
On his return to the latter place, in 1800, after leave of absence, he
found that the junior lieutenant-colonel of the 49th--Colonel
Sheaffe--had incurred the reasonable dislike of the men. The regiment
was drawn up on the sands for morning parade, standing at ease. In
company with this unpopular officer Brock appeared upon the scene. He
was greeted with three hearty cheers. The personal honour, however, was
lost sight of in the act of disobedience. Rebuking the men severely for
"their most unmilitary conduct," they were marched to quarters and
confined to barracks for a week. He would not, he explained, allow
public exaltation of himself at the expense of another.
The next year found our hero in the Baltic Sea, aboard the _Ganges_,
detailed for active duty as second in command of the land forces that
under Lord Nelson were ordered to the attack on Copenhagen. It was
intended that Brock, with the 49th, should lead in storming the
Trekroner (Three Crown) battery, in conjunction with five hundred
seamen; but the heroic defence by the Danes rendered the attempt
impracticable, and Brock remained on the _Ganges_, an unwilling
spectator of bloodshed in which he took no part. Towards the close of
the engagement--the heaviest pounding match in history--he was on the
_Elephant_, Nelson's flagship, and saw the hero of Trafalgar write his
celebrated letter to the Crown Prince of Denmark.
As at Egmont, the irrepressible conduct of Savery Brock on the _Ganges_
gave our hero much concern. Savery, as a former midshipman, was of
course a gunner. While training a quarter-deck gun on the Trekroner
battery his hat was blown from his head and he was knocked down by the
rush of wind from a grapeshot. Seeing this, Brock exclaimed, "Ah, poor
Savery! He is indeed dead." But, to use his own words, it was only "the
hot air from the projectile that had 'floored' him." Previous to this he
had driven Isaac almost demented by stating his intention of joining the
storming party and sharing his brother's danger. "Is it not enough that
one brother should be killed or drowned?" said Isaac. But Savery
persisted until, at Isaac's request, the commander of the _Ganges_ kept
the paymaster quiet by stratagem. "Master Savery," said he, "you simply
_must_ remain with us. I appoint you captain of the gun. It will amuse
you."
The loss of the Danes at Copenhagen was placed at 6,000, including
prisoners. The British killed and wounded numbered 943, more than fell
at the Battle of the Nile. Part of this loss is charged to a criminal
misconception of military etiquette. To a line officer who asked where
his men should be stationed, the captain of the battleship replied, that
as soldiers were no good with big guns, and as the forts were out of
musket range, he should "send them between decks." This, said the
infantryman, "would be eternal disgrace." In deference to this brutal
conception of military ethics, the men were drawn up on the gangway and,
standing at attention, were allowed to be mowed down by Danish
grapeshot. The 49th, on its return to England from Copenhagen,
thoroughly initiated in the cruel cult of war, was ordered to
Colchester.
Isaac Brock, with the bay-leaves of distinction on his brow, and his
heart touched but not dismayed at the ferocity of war, had passed the
_second_ milestone of his life.