The British fleet lay heaved to off the coast. In addition to the transports there was a squadron of warships assigned to protect Arthur’s force. His strength had been increased by a further five thousand men under the command of Major-General Sir Brent Spencer, following further intelligence that Junot had up to twenty thousand men in his army. In the days before the transports had arrived off the coast of Portugal Arthur had been cruising along the coast looking for a place to land his soldiers so that they could march on Lisbon.A landing at the Portuguese capital itself was out of the question. The mouth of the Tagus was covered by a number of strong forts which commanded the approaches to the harbour. In addition, the British had discovered a squadron of eight Russian warships at anchor off Lisbon. With the treaty between France and Russia still in effect the Russian squadron presented a possible danger and was best avoided, Arthur decided. Sailing north along the coast from Lisbon it soon became clear that there were very few places suitable for landing his army.

Mondego Bay itself was covered by a centuries-old fort constructed from a pale yellow stone, and the British fleet was about to move on when a small boat put out from the shore and made directly for the British warships. On board was the excited representative of a group of students from Coimbra University. In broken English he explained that they had seized the fort from the small French garrison that had been posted there by General Junot.

‘How long ago?’

‘Two days.’ The student grinned. ‘Two days before, we kick them out.’

‘Kicked them out? You let them go?’

‘Yes!’ The student nodded. ‘They run like dogs with tails between legs.’

‘Then they will have had time to report the loss of the fort,’ Arthur mused. He turned to Admiral Cotton, the commander of the naval squadron. Cotton was a senior officer of long experience who approached his duty with caution. ‘We have to ensure that the army is ashore before the French can retake the fort.’

Cotton looked surprised and gestured towards the shore, where a wide expanse of rough-looking surf pounded the sand.‘It is not a good place to land your army, Sir Arthur.The conditions are too difficult, too dangerous.’

‘We’ll land here,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘We have already sailed a hundred miles up the coast from Lisbon searching for a suitable place. We cannot afford to keep looking or we will put too great a distance between us and our goal.We land here. Now, I would be grateful if you would send ashore a hundred of your marines to reinforce our gallant student allies.’ Arthur patted the Portuguese youth on the shoulder and the latter beamed with pride as he puffed out his chest.