When it appeared that a fresh grand coalition of European powers had arisen against poor little much-put-upon “Boney”, encouraged by Nelson’s victory, and Prime Minister William Pitt’s cash stash, he had to act, and was surely more than happy to go bash the stuffings out of somebody to make up for it, and make him feel better.
The Austrians had improved their army and its tactics since the last time they’d been slobber-knockered by the French, but they still weren’t quite up to snuff, and they just got reamed at the battles of Ulm, then the joint battle with their new Russian allies which happened at Austerlitz, Napoleon’s most complete and crushing victories of his long career. To add insult to injury, he later went on to rip the Prussians a new one at Jena and Auerstädt, and add Prussia as part of Metropolitan France!
It’s possible that the news of all those defeats were the cause of William Pitt’s demise, which so stunned Commodore Popham when he learned of it. The people of Great Britain took all that bad news, and Pitt’s death, pretty hard, too, and a great war-weariness set in once more. (“Doc, I just feel so depressed!”)
The quick and easy conquest of the Cape Colony early in 1806 really didn’t do much to lift their spirits, either, though the news that Popham sent back to London made it sound a lot grander than it really was.
No wonder, then, that in the middle of gloom and doom, news of Popham’s conquest of Buenos Aires, and all the money appropriated in the process, set the London papers and the government aflame with praise. Patriotic Funds ordered presentation swords and complete sets of silver plate in his honour, and grand resolutions were announced in Parliament. When Popham’s open letter to the merchants of London, in which he boasted of the immense profits that could be made there, was published, Commodore Popham was acclaimed as the New Nelson, which I suspect was his aim all along.
Admiralty, though, even with Popham’s friend Earl Grey in charge as First Lord, was appalled that the Commodore had abandoned his post at the Cape and gone gallivanting off on a “Mad As A Hatter” escapade, profits be damned. Cape Town was left almost defenceless. There was talk of court-martial, despite the loud public accolades and fresh joy.
Commodore Sir Home Riggs Popham, inventor of the flag signals code, an endless font of ideas for aggressive action against the King’s enemies (and his own advancement!), found that he had bitten off a bit more than he could chew when he took Buenos Aires. He’d been sold a thrilling bill of goods by that Colonel Miranda, a lecherous gad-fly who’d traipsed the Continent promoting his grand vision of a South America free of Spanish rule, united into a great republic of native peoples—meaning Spanish-descended criollos, not the real indigenous natives or the slaves—which could take its place on the world stage, in emulation of the American Revolution, and the relatively new United States. In the process, Miranda’s assurances of people yearning to breathe free, and revolutionaries just champing at the bit to arise and open their markets to anyone who’d aid them, had grown grander and bigger over the years. In truth, though, except for some idle talkers in intellectual circles and wealthy salon society, it was all a fraud.
Resistance arose quickly, under the leadership of Sobremonte and Pueyrredón, as mentioned. In addition, there was a former French naval officer under the old Bourbon regime, Liniers, in Spanish service, who styled himself Don Santiago de Liniers, who took part; his name and presence utterly convinced Popham that it was all a French plot!
Liniers rode into Buenos Aires, claiming that he wanted to see to his family’s needs, then was allowed to ride out, again, after he had scouted Brigadier Beresford’s positions, the strength of patrols, and how few British troops were actually present. Liniers also had no trouble crossing the estuary to Montevideo and meeting with his fellow rebels, and the reconquista was on!
Barely a month after taking the place, by mid-July Brigadier Beresford knew that he was “in the quag” right up to his neck. Enemy forces were gathering rapidly from the ranches in the hinterland, and from the garrison and volunteers from Montevideo. Popham had very few boats to row guard to prevent the movement of troops, and his only warship, Encounter, could not sail up into the shallows where enemy fishing boats were ferrying men over in the night. Diadem, Diomede, and Reliant drew too much water to even get close to helping. Indeed, Captain Donnelly’s Narcissus had spent her first day in the Plate Estuary aground on the Chico Bank, far from Buenos Aires!
It was not for nothing that in later years, once the nations of Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay had been carved out of the larger Spanish possessions, that the deep-water Canal Punta Indio was dug out from the docks of Buenos Aires to deeper water South of Montevideo!
Popham could give the unfortunate Beresford no help, and the weather did not cooperate, either. There were heavy rains, gusty gales, and heavy fogs. Popham could not even manage to get his ships to the wee port of Ensenada to take off Beresford’s wounded, or evacuate the army. They might have saved themselves by marching down to Point Quilmes, where they’d landed, and been taken off by boats from the five transports that remained in the Estuary, from the mouth of the Cuello River, but Beresford stood his ground, and on the night of August 11th, 1806, his troops stood to-arms all night. On the morning of August 12th, he was attacked by overwhelming numbers, and, after suffering 48 dead, 107 wounded, and 10 missing, he was forced to surrender. The terms were fairly generous, but Brigadier Beresford and his remaining men were marched inland.
By now, Lewrie’s part in the Buenos Aires fiasco was long done, but if you thought that Commodore Popham would tuck his tail beneath his legs and slink off like a frustrated fox, you’ve another think coming; the comedy of errors was only just starting!
Even though there were no Spanish merchant ships or warships in a thousand miles of the Estuary, Popham used his remaining squadron to “blockade” Buenos Aires (I’m sure that looked good in reports!) until he received a few re-enforcements from General Baird at the Cape of Good Hope. By this time, Admiralty had sent orders for his recall to London, and a replacement had been sent out.
With his re-enforcements, Popham tried to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear (perhaps to salvage his arse!) by making a stab at taking Montevideo! His few ships couldn’t get close enough for their guns to make an impression, so he settled for going up the coast and taking the port of Maldonado and the island of Gorrete, where his troops could set up winter camps, on the 30th of October.
This defeat was considered an insult to the honour of British arms. Popham’s replacement, Rear-Admiral Charles Stirling, arrived with a fresh army, and hopes expressed in London that not only would Buenos Aires and Montevideo be re-taken, but an expedition would also sail round the Horn and take the city of Valparaiso in Chile, then build a string of fortresses right cross the entire continent! London would make a virtue of necessity.
Stirling and his army commanders, General Samuel Auchmuty and Lieutenant-General John Whitelocke, had a second go at Montevideo in February of 1807, and took the place, being “gallantly carried”.
From there, another go at Buenos Aires was launched, an army of twelve thousand men to do the job proper, this time.
Unfortunately, it was entrusted to Lieutenant-General Whitelocke, who was no brighter than Beresford had been. He led them cross the swampy lands near Quilmes and cross the Cuello, and right into utter disaster! Nearly 2,500 British soldiers were killed and Whitelocke’s army was also forced to surrender, with Whitelocke meekly agreeing that all British forces would evacuate the Plate within two months.