Chapters (73)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Chapter 1 - Napoleon
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10 - Arthur
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15 - Napoleon
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21 - The Bridge at Arcola
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23 - Arthur
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27 - Napoleon
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33 - Arthur
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39 - Napoleon
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46 - Arthur
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48 - Seringapatam, April 1799
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50 - Napoleon
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55 - Arthur
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62 - Napoleon
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66 - Arthur
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Author’s note
‘No, sir.’ Desgenettes leaned over the nearest man and carefully lifted the corner of the blanket that covered him. The man’s jaw was slack and hung open and his eyes gazed sightlessly at the ceiling and Napoleon realised he was dead. Then he saw the swollen lumps on the man’s neck and round his armpits. Some had burst and glistened with blood and pus.The stench hit Napoleon like a blow and he had to struggle to keep himself from vomiting.
‘Buboes,’ Desgenettes explained, and let the blanket drop back over the body. He gestured to the other men in the room, most still moving fitfully as they mumbled and cried out. ‘They’ve all got the same symptoms.’ He turned to Napoleon. ‘This isn’t a hospital, sir. It’s a plague house.’
Chapter 43
Chapter 43
‘That delay at El Arish is about to cost us dearly,’ Napoleon said as he surveyed the new earthworks and other fortifications that had been erected around Acre. Some of Ahmad Pasha’s engineers were still toiling away digging a ditch in front of the large bastion that dominated the city’s walls. The enemy was in a strong position 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 Perée’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.’