[image]Jack Captures a Dragoon"Jolly good chase, sir!" said Kelly, as Jack and his prisoner came up. "The froggies showed the cleanest pair of heels I ever did see.""You stuck to it like a Briton," said Jack. "Now we'll get back to the others and see what damage is done."With the two Frenchmen disarmed between them, they retraced their steps, the Frenchmen sitting limp and careless, with a resigned expression of countenance that tickled Kelly's sense of humour."Where do you come from, mon brave?" asked Jack of the man next to him."From Rueda, monsieur le capitaine," answered the trooper with a smile. Jack chuckled inwardly at his sudden promotion, and went on:"And what is your regiment?""Mais, monsieur, the 22nd Chasseurs of General Franceschi's cavalry. And little did we think, monsieur, that we should meet Englishmen to-day. Eh bien! it is all the fortune of war, and monsieur le capitaine rides a good horse.""No better than your own, mon brave," said Jack, not to be outdone in politeness. "Well now, how many of your regiment may happen to be in Rueda, if I may ask?"The trooper looked at him with twinkling eyes."Non, non, monsieur le capitaine," he said. "You have captured our patrol: c'est égal! but you want to know too much. I tell you how many? Non, non; but we are enough to capture all Sir Moore's army before it ends its retreat to Lisbon. Monsieur wants to spoil the joke.""Very well," said Jack with a laugh. "I won't press you; but there are more ways than one of killing a cat, as we say in English."He kept up an amicable conversation with the Frenchman until they arrived at the cross-roads. There he found his two troopers mounting guard over the four wounded chasseurs, and Jack was sufficiently new to warfare to feel relieved and glad that no life had been lost. The dragoons had made clumsy attempts to bind up their prisoners' wounds, and had allowed the least injured of them to fetch water in his helmet from the stream."That's right," said Jack as he came up. "We've had an unexpected piece of luck, my men, and our capture may be important. But we have no time to lose. We made noise enough along the road to bring up the whole French army if it's hereabouts. Lucky the regiment isn't far behind us. Now help these fellows on to their horses; we'll take them back to the hut we left a while ago, and I'll leave them in your charge while I go on alone and pick up a little information.""May I come, sir?" asked Kelly. "'Tisn't safe to go alone.""Safer for one than two. But come along; there's no time to waste, and it's getting dark."In a few minutes the cavalcade had reached the hut on the hillside. The muleteer glowered viciously at the prisoners as they were led up to his door, and handled his knife as though he would have liked there and then to take vengeance upon them for the loss of his favourite pig. But Jack allowed no mistake about his intentions; he told the man that the prisoners would remain with him, in charge of the dragoons, until the British advance-guard under General Stewart arrived."I'm going on to Rueda," he added. "How far is it from here?""A league and a half, Señor," said the man."That's about seven miles as your Spanish league goes. Kelly, if General Stewart arrives before I get back, tell him that there are some of General Franceschi's chasseurs at Rueda on our right flank, and I've gone to find out how many. If all goes well I'll be back within two hours.""Very good, sir!" said Kelly, and then looked as though he would have said more."Well, what is it?" asked Jack."Beg pardon, sir, but you'll be nabbed as sure as a gun. Your uniform—""Don't worry, Kelly. I'm going to borrow an outfit from one of our French friends here. Come, mon ami," he said, turning to the sergeant whom he had captured, "I must trouble you to take off some of your things—your helmet, say, and your cloak, your breeches, and your boots; I think they'll be enough.""Pardon, monsieur le capitaine, but I'm a soldier of the emperor, and the emperor would shoot me as a traitor if I parted with my uniform to an Englishman.""That would be unfortunate. But we can't stand on ceremony now; make haste, if you please.""But, monsieur," said the man, "the breeches won't fit you.""They will be a trifle baggy, but no one will be critical in the dark. Come now, hurry up!""But, monsieur, I shall be cold, I shall freeze. If monsieur will lend me his things in exchange, perhaps—""No, thanks! If you're cold you'd better ask the muleteer to lend you some things, or, better still, go to bed. Kelly, come and help the sergeant off with his things."But as Kelly approached him with a grin, the Frenchman unclasped his cloak and proceeded to divest himself of the garments Jack required. Soon Jack was cantering off on his reconnoitring expedition to Rueda.By this time it was almost dark, and Jack rode gently, partly in order to avoid mishap, and partly to spare his horse in case hard work were required of him later. His blood tingled with the excitement of his recent adventure and with anticipation of the unknown adventures before him. Like his brother officers, and indeed every member of the army, from the chief of staff to the smallest drummer-boy, he rejoiced in the sudden change of plan which Sir John Moore had announced about a week before. The news he himself had brought to the general, reinforced by further news obtained through Manuel and Juan, and by information that the Spanish armies were concentrating, had determined Sir John, on December 5th, to countermand his order to retreat. The French, he had learnt, were not marching in his direction, but towards Madrid, which, he was assured, was defended by large forces at the difficult Somosierra Pass, and would resist to the utmost. He put little faith in the Spaniards' power of resistance, but he saw a possibility of creating a diversion in their favour, and of cutting in between Soult and Napoleon and striking a blow at the former. If Madrid had not yet fallen, his movement might draw off Napoleon and save the capital, or at any rate he might make matters so unpleasant, by seizing Valladolid and Burgos, that time would be gained for the re-equipment of the Spanish armies. If, on the other hand, Madrid fell, he could still make a run for it. He therefore ordered Baird on his left and Hope on his right to move forward towards Valladolid, while he himself prepared to advance on the same town by way of Alaejos and Tordesillas, acquainting the Marquis of La Romana, who was at Leon, some 120 miles due north of Salamanca, with his intentions.A few days after Moore had arrived at this decision he received the news that Madrid had capitulated to Napoleon. It was a severe blow. He had hoped against hope that the Spanish promises would at last be fulfilled, that their boasts would at last justify themselves. Once more the Spaniards had shown their instability. But Moore was not disposed to alter his plans; there seemed every probability of his striking a successful blow at the French communications. On December 11th, then, the infantry moved out from Salamanca, General Paget marching with the reserve for Toro, where his brother, Lord Paget, had already arrived with Baird's cavalry, while Hope left Alba de Tormes next day to join the main body on the Valladolid road. The advance along this road was led by General Charles Stewart's cavalry brigade, consisting of Hussars and Light Dragoons. It happened that during the previous week Jack had more than once been sent backwards and forwards between Salamanca and Alba de Tormes with despatches and reports, and he had come under the notice of General Stewart. When the advance was ordered, Stewart, thinking that Jack would be useful in gathering news from the Spaniards, and acting as interpreter in matters connected with commissariat and billeting, asked that he might be temporarily attached to him as extra aide-de-camp, and it was while riding ahead to enquire about billets in Tordesillas that Jack met with the adventure just related.As he rode along towards Rueda he could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction at his continued good luck. But he did not indulge in idle dreams. It was now too dark to see, but his ears were keenly alert to catch any sound that betokened danger, and he told Pomeroy afterwards that he felt as sensitive as a cat's whiskers. His enterprise was obviously full of peril, for he had no knowledge of the number of troops in Rueda, or of that town itself, and it behoved him to go warily. If the French force was large, there would certainly be outposts at some distance from the town, and every now and then he pulled up his horse and waited, straining eyes and ears for a sound or a light.At length, when he had been riding for about three-quarters of an hour, he saw, at the bottom of a slight hollow more than half a mile in his front, a twinkle of light which he inferred came from a house by the roadside. Dismounting at once he led his horse off the road to the left, and found that he was in a vineyard where many of the poles used for supporting the vines were still standing in the soil. He led his horse well out of sight from the road, tied him to one of these poles, patted his neck, and then set off to walk through the field, keeping a distance of about fifty yards from the highway. The light shone more clearly now, and as he approached it he went ever more and more cautiously, stopping at one point to remove the spurs that, in spite of his careful tread, made a slight clanking on the frozen ground. At thirty yards distance from the light he saw that it proceeded from the window of a small cabin not unlike the muleteer's behind him. Now every step he took was as stealthy as a cat's. His pulse beat a little faster as he came within a few feet of the cabin, though he was barely conscious of this, so intent was he on the task in hand.He crept at first behind the hut and waited for a moment. Voices reached him from within. Pressing his ear against the wooden wall, he distinguished a few exclamations in French, and then a burst of laughter."They're having a high old time!" he said to himself with a chuckle. "Evidently well occupied. I'll chance it."Stealing round the hut he fell down on hands and knees and crawled till he came beneath the window; he then removed his helmet, took a breath, and raised himself inch by inch until he could just peer over the lower sill. For a moment his eyes were dazzled by the light. As they became more accustomed to it he saw four French troopers, in the same uniform as the one he now wore, seated at a round table playing cards. An empty bottle stood in the centre, and some glasses were half-full of red wine. Jack inferred at once that the cabin was a sort of impromptu guard-room, from which sentries were posted at the entrance to the village."Pretty sentries!" he said to himself. "I wouldn't give much for their skins if Boney caught them! They're making enough row to drown the sound of an army. So much for that."Lowering himself with equal care, he crept away, rose to his feet, and set off at a sharp walk towards Rueda. Before long he descried a number of scattered lights ahead. Then he found himself in a lane that appeared to lead towards the town. "Here goes," he thought, and without hesitation struck up the lane in the direction of the lights.It led straight into the principal street. Jack walked boldly on, thinking that boldness would attract less attention than stealth. He noticed that nearly all the houses at this end of the place were lit up. Sounds of merriment floated upon the air—a laugh, a cheer, an exclamation of anger, the clink of glasses, the rattle of dice. There was a small inn; twenty yards away Jack smelt fried onions, and longed for his supper. The street was empty, and as he went forward he observed that the houses were almost all dark, and guessed that the French were billeted at the end he had passed. By and by he came to the Plaza, a narrow open space in the centre of the town, and saw what was evidently the town-house looming before him, a large building in the middle of the square. He halted in the shadow of a church porch."There'll be a sentry posted here," he thought. "I wonder which side of the building he is on!" He hesitated for a moment whether to proceed or to return at once, seeing no prospect of obtaining definite information of the number of the French. "In for a penny in for a pound," he said to himself; "I'll try another few yards."He chose the street passing by the left-hand face of the town-house, and stole along on tiptoe. A narrow beam of light fell obliquely across the street from an upper window on his left, throwing a luminous circle on the townhouse wall just above the level of his head. He skirted the wall, and had reached the mid-point of that face of the square, when a voice suddenly arrested his steps."Señor, charity for a poor prisoner. A copper, Señor, for the love of God!"The voice appeared to come from just above his head. There was something in the tone that seemed familiar, and with a quickening pulse he resolved to test the surmise which had flashed upon him. Retracing his steps for a couple of yards, he looked up, and there, full in the shaft of light from the house opposite, he saw the barred grating of a dungeon, and, pressed against the bars—yes, it was the small elfin face of the gipsy boy Pepito. "Here's luck again!" he thought. Being below the level of the beam of light, Jack himself was out of sight, and he knew that Pepito could only have caught the sound of his footsteps, and must have addressed him without knowing who he was. Putting his hand into the pocket of his breeches—forgetting they were not his own—he took out a few copper coins, and stretched his arm up towards the grating."Here you are, poor prisoner!" he said softly in Spanish.A low exclamation answered him. The coins were taken, and a small lean hand pressed his gently."Muchas gracias," said Pepito; then turning to speak to someone behind him in the cell: "A Christian gives alms to the poor, and four noble Spaniards and a gipsy boy will not go supperless to bed.""Four noble Spaniards!" echoed Jack. "Let me speak with one of them."Pepito disappeared instantly, and his place was taken by a large, heavy-jawed Spaniard, whom Jack recognized at once as the stableman who had led the pursuit of him from Olmedo. The man looked suspiciously at the French uniform."Hist! I may help you," began Jack, but at this moment he heard the clamp-clamp of ammunition boots approaching from round the corner behind him. "The sentry!" he thought. "Silence! I will come back," he whispered.He crept along the wall on tiptoe, in the direction away from the approaching footsteps. At the same time he heard from within the cell Pepito's shrill voice in song:"Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw!""Clever little imp!" he thought. "He didn't give me away to his companions there, and now he's trying to smother the sound of my footsteps."He turned the corner and waited. The sentry was still approaching with measured tread, and when he arrived beneath the grating he cried angrily:"Tais-toi, maraud! Il faut te taire, ou je vais te brûler la cervelle."The singing ceased, and the sentry with a grunt resumed his march."He's going to make the round of the building," thought Jack. "So will I; but I hope to goodness no one will be passing on the other side."He tiptoed along and turned the other corner. Not a soul was to be seen. He waited. On this face of the building was the door, over which a feeble light flickered, and Jack wondered whether it was open, and if he would be seen from within. But there was no time for hesitation. The tramping sentry was coming behind him. Taking his courage in both hands, Jack slipped along, passed the door safely, turned the farther corner, and in another half-minute was back under the grating, breathless with excitement.For a moment he stood listening. The sentry had halted in front of the building."Hist! Are you there?" he whispered towards the grating."Sí, Señor," said the man."Now, answer quickly. How many French are in the town?""About a hundred, Señor.""Foot or horse?""Half one, half the other.""And they come from—""From Segovia, Señor.""That'll do. Where's that gipsy boy?""But, Señor—""Hush! Where's the gipsy?""Here, Señor," said Pepito, pulling the Spaniard away."Here's a few pesetas. Buy them all a supper from the jailer. All being well, I'll have you out to-night."Then he thought for an instant. He must make sure his escape from the town. What if the sentry were again moving round the square? Stepping softly into the road, he picked up a large loose cobble and flung it with all his force towards the corner farthest away from the road he meant to take. The stone struck the road several yards beyond the building, and made a clatter as it ricochetted along. He heard an exclamation from the sentry, who set off at a quick step in the direction of the sound. Without more delay Jack hastened in the opposite direction, hearing behind him, more and more faintly, the quaint refrain of the gipsy's wild song:"Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"He arrived safely at the end of the street. The mirth of the French was even more uproarious, their fancied security clearly still more confident. Out of the town, into the lane, Jack hurried at full speed; past the guard-house, along over the field, among the bare vine-poles until he reached his horse again. A whinny greeted him. He sprang on to the animal's back, and cantered back rapidly in the direction of the Valladolid road."We'll make a clean swoop of them or I'm a Dutchman," he said to himself gleefully. "Was there ever such luck—and such bad management! Won't Charley Stewart be delighted!"On he rode, keeping his ears open for the slightest sound. He had come, as he judged, within a mile of the scene of his afternoon's adventure when he heard the sound of horses trotting. Turning off the road, he walked his horse for some distance across the field and waited. The riders were approaching him. He tried to determine from the sound of the hoofs how many they were. Then he heard voices—they carried far in the silence of the frosty night,—and as they came opposite him he heard an English voice say with a growl:"'Pon my soul, the madcap deserves to be nabbed!""Charley himself!" chuckled Jack. "Who goes there?" he called.The horses stopped, and a voice called sharply:"Who are you?""Lumsden of the 95th.""Gad, it's the fellow himself. Come and show yourself, you daredevil! Where in the world have you been?""Into Rueda and back, sir," said Jack, saluting."And what the blazes have you been doing there?""Taking stock, sir. There are a hundred French in the town, cavalry and infantry mixed, and they're all hard at it with drink and cards.""The deuce they are! No sentries, eh?""A few in a cabin this side of the town, sir, but they're busy at the same game.""Are they, begad? Seymour, we'll collar this little lot. We were coming to rescue your dead body, young man, and you've disappointed us. Ride back, there, and tell the squadron to hurry. We'll draw first blood to-night."Ten minutes later the whole squadron of 250 men of the 18th Light Dragoons, General Stewart himself in command, were on their way to Rueda. Jack rode ahead by the general's side—no longer in French uniform, for when the squadron arrived on the scene Kelly came forward and said:"Brought these, sir; thought you might want 'em."He handed Jack his head-dress and cloak, receiving the Frenchman's cloak and helmet in exchange."I didn't bring the breeches, sir," added Kelly, "thinking it might be a cold change to-night.""Right, Kelly! and that reminds me that I've borrowed some of the Frenchman's money; all fair in war, eh?"General Stewart enquired of Jack as they rode how he had contrived to pick up his information."Famous, famous!" he exclaimed when the tale had been briefly told. "We mustn't let a man escape if we can help it. If Franceschi doesn't hear of this we may scoop up his whole division. How are we going to escape the sentries? They can't fail to hear us on this hard road, and we can't muffle the horses' hoofs.""If you like, sir," suggested Jack, "I'll go ahead with a few men across the fields and collar them first.""You want to do it all, eh? Very well; we'll halt when you tell us. If anything goes wrong, give us a hail and we'll be on your tracks like the wind."When he judged that the squadron had arrived at a safe distance Jack gave the word, the general halted, and Jack went forward across the fields with four men to make a detour and come upon the sentries' cabin from the direction of Rueda, thereby to deceive the Frenchmen into the belief that the approaching riders were a party coming out to relieve guard. Jack's men had ridden two hundred yards beyond the cabin, and were just turning to the left to regain the road, when one of the men declared that he heard the sound of trotting horses from the town."That's a relief patrol," said Jack. "Ride back to the general, Kelly; tell him we can hardly hope to surprise the town now, and ask him to pick up the men in the cabin as he passes. Now, dragoons, forward with me into Rueda."They set spurs to their horses, and made for the road. Secrecy was no longer possible; the approaching chasseurs heard them, stopped short, hesitated a moment, then turned tail and made at full speed back towards the town, with Jack and his men close at their heels."Who's in first, my boys!" cried Jack, rising in his stirrups and urging his flying steed. On they went, heedless of the road, sparks flying from the hoofs, the horses snorting with the joy of the chase. Into the town with a clash and a clatter!"Sauve qui peut! Les Anglais! Les Anglais!" shouted the sergeant of the flying patrol. Instantly the little town was filled with noise, the inns belched forth their scared revellers, from every house streamed soldiers, drunk and sober, some in full uniform, some half-dressed, some without swords, some without muskets, the chasseurs clamouring for their horses, the officers of Lefebvre's infantry shouting to their men to form up and stand firm in the square. Jack dashed on. A pistol flashed at him; he heeded nothing, keeping his eye on the form of the sergeant who headed the patrol, and who had now distanced his companions, and was clearly making in a panic for safety. By this time about sixty of the infantry had formed up in some sort of order in the square. Giving rein to his horse, the sergeant of chasseurs, yelling incoherent exclamations, dashed into their midst, cleft a way through them, and pelted on towards the other end of the town. At his heels flew Jack, whom in the confusion and the semi-darkness the Frenchmen appeared to take for one of themselves. Behind him he heard the clatter of hoofs and the shouts of Stewart's dragoons as they dashed into the town, the crack of pistols, the dull thud of infantry muskets, then the clash of sabres and the yells of wounded men. Still he rode on. "Not a man must escape," the general had said, and not a man should, if Jack could help it.He was now out of the town, and the Frenchman was apparently losing ground. Jack spurred his panting horse, and knew by the louder clicks of the hoofs before him that he was gaining on the enemy. But it was only for a moment. The chasseur shouted to his horse, flung a mocking cry behind, and tore on at increased speed. On went Jack, his mouth set, determined to run his quarry down if only his horse would hold out. Mile after mile the chase continued; each horseman could hear the pants of the other's steed, each rode headlong, careless of ruts or stones, Jack hoping now against hope that something would happen to check the Frenchman's career. His own horse was almost done; he remembered that it had had scarcely any rest for half a day, while the chasseur's was probably fresh; and it occurred to him at length that the Frenchman could easily have outstripped him if he pleased, and must be holding him now for his own malicious amusement, or perhaps to lure him on till he reached a larger body of Franceschi's men. Just as he was wondering whether it might not be the more discreet part to relinquish the chase, he caught sight of lights ahead. The Frenchman was quickening his pace; evidently then he did not expect to find friends in the village or town to which they were coming. Jack endeavoured to get still more out of his own breathless steed. On went the chasseur at full gallop into the town. At the door of an inn a group of men was gathered, some of their number holding flaring torches above their heads. The crowd parted to make way for the flying horseman, and he dashed pell-mell through their midst."The game's up!" thought Jack with a sigh of disappointment. "Poor old horse! You're done up." He rode into the crowd. "After him!" he cried in Spanish, pointing after the Frenchman. "After him, hombres! The English are at Rueda. Don't let him escape. My horse is foundered; somebody mount and catch the dog!"But not a man moved in response to his cry. Jack dismounted, trembling in every limb, and furious with the Spaniards for their apathy. As he led his quivering horse towards the inn, and the throng gathered around him, he stopped suddenly, for there, in front of the inn door, stretched on his back, lay a soldier, his eyes closed, his cheeks pale in the ghastly torchlight, a dark stain marking the frosty road."What is it? Who is he?" asked Jack. He looked round, and saw at the inn door a man with a reeking knife in his hand. As Jack passed, the man came forward."I did it! One of the accursed French. I killed him!"He went on to explain that he was the posting-master of the place. The French horseman had ridden up half an hour before and demanded refreshment; he had behaved with such insolence and brutality that human nature could not endure it."He was an enemy of my country, and I killed him!" the man concluded.Jack shuddered involuntarily, and stepped round the corpse to enter the inn.CHAPTER XThe Emperor's DespatchSpoils of War—Hard Cash—A Good Bargain—"To Command the World"—A Wigging—"Missing"—Through the Night—Dead Beat—Grumbling—A Late Breakfast—Mixed Metaphors—A Change of RouteJack threw himself wearily into a chair. He was tired, famished, disappointed—above all, disappointed,—for he had set his heart on capturing the Frenchman as a crowning achievement for this crowded day. For a few moments he sat staring with downcast eyes at the floor; then he pulled himself together."It can't be helped," he thought. "I did my best.—Landlord, give me some food."The landlord put down on the table, between two smoking candles, the knife which he had retained up to this moment."Some food for the caballero," he said to one of his men. "And you, Perez, go outside and bury that carrion Frenchman."Some minutes passed. Jack found that he had no appetite for the crude dishes set before him, and heard dully, with inattentive ears, the slow monotone of the landlord, who seemed to be anxious to justify to himself the act of murder he had committed. Presently two of the inn servants entered."We have buried him, master," said the first. "And his clothes are rich; we thought maybe you would wish to have them."His companion came forward, and laid before the inn-keeper a heap of garments."He was a handsome man," added the first."Fine feathers, fine feathers!" muttered the landlord. He took the garments up one by one, turning them over and commenting on them. There was a black cloth pelisse, a white dolman with gold braid and fur, and a shako of scarlet cloth, surmounted by an aigrette of white heron's plumes. The uniform was ornate with gold braid, cord, and buttons; and a rich sash of black and gold silk, a small cartridge-pouch, a sabretache, and a long Damascene sabre completed the brilliant appointments. As Jack watched the landlord fingering the articles, he recognized vaguely that they could only have belonged to a soldier of high rank or position, and for the first time he wondered what had brought the Frenchman to this out-of-the-way village of Valdestillos. The landlord stroked the fur of the dolman caressingly."Worth some dollars, this," he said, shaking it out to see its full extent. As he did so, a folded paper fell to the floor. Jack was up in an instant."I want that," he said, fatigue, hunger, disappointment forgotten at once. He stepped forward, but the landlord put his foot on the paper."No, no, Señor," he said quickly. "He was my prisoner; I killed him; all his things are mine.""But don't you see," said Jack, now hardly able to control his excitement; "don't you see, the man was a despatch-rider! That explains his rich uniform. Perhaps he was one of Napoleon's own aides-de-camp, and the fate of all Spain may lie in that simple paper. You must give it to me, landlord; I must take it to my general."Jack was too much agitated at the moment to perceive that his urgent manner was likely to defeat his ends. The probability that the paper had value had aroused the cupidity of the landlord, who stooped cautiously, picked up the despatch, and thrust it into his pocket."It is mine—mine," he said gloatingly. The man's attitude served to quiet Jack's nerves."Very well," he said. "Keep it. I wouldn't be in your shoes for something. Your servants have seen the despatch. Look, there's a crowd of peasants gaping at the door there. You can't keep it quiet, even if anything happens to me; and when General Stewart finds out what a patriot you are, he'll send you to the Marquis of La Romana, and then—"Jack shrugged expressively. The servants cast uneasy glances at their master, who at first frowned at them, then himself looked uncomfortable."What does the Señor offer for it?" he said at length with a covetous leer."You sell your patriotism, eh? Well, I'll give you five dollars."The landlord shook his head."I have lost many dollars of late through the war. It is worth more than five dollars.""Well, I won't stick at a few dollars. Say ten.""No, no. The Marquis of La Romana would give more than ten.""I won't haggle with you," cried Jack. "I make you a last offer. If you accept it, you are so much to the good; if you refuse it, you not only won't get a maravedi, but you'll come pretty badly off when the authorities hear of it. I'll give you twenty dollars, and not a peseta more."The landlord looked at him enquiringly, as though questioning whether he might not squeeze a few more dollars from the young officer. Jack eyed him firmly."That's final," he said. "Twenty dollars, or nothing, plus your country's curse.""A paltry sum!" said the innkeeper. "In cash?" he asked cunningly."In cash. I have the money here.""Let me see it."Chafing at the man's suspicion, Jack unbuckled his belt, and counted out from the pockets on the inside twenty small golden dollars of the old coinage of Spain. The landlord's eye gleamed. He took out the despatch from his pocket, and held it doubtingly in his hand."Give me ten dollars first," he said.Angrier than ever, but outwardly calm, Jack handed over ten of the coins. The man bit each one between his teeth, and dropped them into his pouch."Take it, Señor," he said.It was the most exciting moment Jack remembered in his life when he took the folded paper in his hand, and paid the balance of the price. He turned it over; there was no writing on it; the flap was fastened with a great red seal; what if it was no despatch after all? Instantly he broke the seal, and, unfolding the stiff paper, read at the top:"To the Marshal Duke of Dalmatia, commanding the Second Army Corps at Saldana, the Vice-Constable Major-General".His eyes swam, and he felt a rush of blood to his cheeks. The landlord was droning on to his servants, and Jack remembered afterwards, with infinite amusement, that, at this tense moment, he had heard as in a dream the land-lord directing his servant to put out one of the candles; one was enough: "'Tis a waste of good pork fat, and we have no pigs left in Spain—bar the French."He read on by the light of one guttering dip, running his eye rapidly down the closely-written page. Moment by moment his joy increased. The despatch was written from Chamartin by Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel, and Jack saw that it contained Napoleon's plan of campaign, and gave information of the position of his armies which would be beyond price to Moore. Having read it hastily, he went through it again with more care, fixing the details in his mind in case by any mishap he should lose it before reaching head-quarters. What he read was as follows:—"I read to the Emperor your letter of the 4th of December, which was brought by one of your officers. His Majesty approves of all you have done. The brigades of Generals Debelle and Franceschi are under your orders, and you can manoeuvre them as you think proper. The Emperor is of opinion that with the division of Merle and the division of Mouton, together with the four regiments of cavalry, nothing can resist you."What are you to do? Take possession of Leon, drive back the enemy into Galicia, make yourself master of Benavente and Zamora. You can have no English in your front, for some of their regiments came to the Escurial and Salamanca, and everything shows that they are in full retreat. Our advance-guard is this day at Talavera de la Reyna, upon the road to Badajos, which it will reach soon. It will be clear to you that this movement must compel the English to hasten immediately to Lisbon, if they have not gone there already. The moment you are sure that the English have retreated (of which there is every presumption), move forward with rapidity. There are no Spaniards who can resist your two divisions. Order shoes and greatcoats to be made at Leon, Santander, and Palencia. His Majesty grants every demand for improving your equipment. You may also require mules for your artillery, and horses to remount your cavalry; but let it all be done according to the regular forms of administration."It is possible that as soon as the dragoons of General Millet arrive in Spain, the Emperor will send them on to you. But his cannot happen for a fortnight. At the distance at which you are you must be guided by what you think best, and look upon all I write as only general instructions. His Majesty conceives that you will take measures to reduce the country between the Douro, Galicia, and the Asturias, always most carefully guarding Santander. The 5th Corps, commanded by the Marshal Duke of Treviso, has been ordered to advance on Saragossa; the 8th Corps, under the Duke of Abrantes, whose 1st Division arrived at Vittoria on the 12th, will probably receive orders to concentrate at Burgos. Gunboats and armoured vessels of any kind have orders to sail for Santander. Load them with confiscated English merchandise, cotton, wool, artillery, and send all to France."Five divisions of Castaños' best troops have been routed with even less difficulty than you found in beating the Estremaduran army at Burgos. The wreck of Castaños' army is being pursued by Marshal Bessières, who has cut them off the road to Estremadura, and is pursuing them towards Valencia, several marches beyond the Tagus. The Emperor's headquarters are at Chamartin, a little country seat a league and a half from Madrid. His Majesty enjoys an excellent state of health."The city of Madrid is quite tranquil. The shops are all open, the public amusements are resumed, and there is not the least appearance of our first proposals having been emphasized by 4000 cannon balls."THE PRINCE OF NEUFCHATEL,"Major-General."I will send you to-morrow a proclamation and some decrees of the Emperor, in which you will recognize the style of him who was born to command the world."Every word was impressed on Jack's memory as though burnt in with fire. He had been disappointed of catching a Frenchman! He almost laughed aloud, for here, surely, was a find worth a king's ransom."Landlord, I ride back to Rueda." His voice had the ring of authority. "My own horse is tired. I will ride the Frenchman's horse. You will keep mine here until it is sent for, and a fair price shall be paid you for the other if mine is returned to me safe and sound. At once, if you please!"It was not the Spaniard's way to move with alacrity, and it took fifteen minutes to saddle the horse and bring it round from the stables. Then Jack mounted, his whole body tingling with joy; and, the despatch carefully buttoned up inside his tunic, he set off on the fine Arab gray for Rueda.The horse was not too fresh, and went all too slowly for Jack's eager haste. It was near midnight when he cantered into the open street of Rueda, and dismounted at the door of the posada. There was a light in this as in many other houses, and he guessed that here he would be most likely to find General Stewart. The sound of his horse's hoofs had drawn an orderly to the door."Ah, Benson, catch hold of this nag, there's a good fellow! Is the general up?""Yes, you'll find him in the first room, sir."Jack waited to hear no more. He almost ran into the room, and found himself in the presence of General Stewart and a few other officers."Oh, it's you!" said Stewart, turning on his chair to face the intruder. "Now, look here, Lumsden, this is all very well, but things may go too far, you know. 'Twas a mere fool's trick to bolt off after a runaway vedette when, for all you knew, a whole army-corps was within a mile of us.""Sorry, sir," said Jack, "but I understood that you wished to secure the whole party, and I went after the only one that had escaped.... There are no Frenchmen on the road; in fact, to the best of my belief there's only one Frenchman between here and Valladolid, and he's dead.""You got him after all, then?" said Stewart with a gleam of interest."Unluckily no, sir; he got off. It was another fellow, and he carried this despatch."The general took the paper without a word. He opened it, and began to read."Gad, what a find!" he exclaimed. "Look here, Seymour. 'Born to command the world', begad!"The other officers got up and looked over his shoulder. Jack watched their faces, and noticed how their expression changed from an ordinary interest and amusement to an excitement rivalling his own."By George, Lumsden," cried the general as he finished the document, "you've found a treasure here!""It cost me twenty dollars, sir.""Dirt cheap at twenty thousand! How did it happen?"Jack briefly told the story."Boney was always too careless about his aides-de-camp," said Seymour. "The idea of sending the poor chap off without an escort!""Spare your pity!" laughed Stewart. "This must go off to the commander-in-chief at once." He looked at Jack, and added dryly: "I suppose you are too tired to take it yourself?""If you'll give me a fresh horse I'll start at once, sir.""Very well, though you look dog-tired. Have you got a flask you can give him, Seymour? That's right. There's a fellow half an hour ahead of you, with a despatch reporting our capture here—and I've put you down as missing, my boy. You're sure you can do it? It's a ride of nearly twenty miles.""I'll go, sir," said Jack simply. "May I mention two things? I left my horse at the posting inn at Valdestillos, and promised to send for it and buy the Frenchman's gray. Will you look at it, sir, and offer a price? And there was a little gipsy boy with a few Spaniards in the watch-house here. The boy has been rather useful to me; will you order him and the rest to be released and looked after a bit?""Done to both. I'll buy the horse myself if he's fit; and as for the boy and those Spanish louts, they were released long ago, and the gipsy has kept the men in fits with his monkey antics. Now wait just a moment while I scribble a note to Sir John, and then be off, and think yourself a lucky young dog."When Jack, fortified with Captain Seymour's flask, went to the door to mount his horse, he became for the first time thoroughly aware how tired he was. He had been in the saddle almost without intermission for more than twelve hours, and as he lifted his foot to the stirrup, he felt as though his thigh was weighted with lead, and on the point of snapping. But he would never have confessed his fatigue, much less have abnegated his right to carry the important despatch to the commander-in-chief; so, aching but cheerful, he cantered off into the night.He had a ride of eighteen or twenty miles before him, and it was now past midnight. "Thank heaven!" he said to himself, "in three hours or so I shall be between the sheets." Soon after he started, snow began to fall in scattered flakes, giving cold and gentle dabs to his face. The horse answered to his spur, and trotted rapidly along the solitary road, which grew whiter and whiter as he proceeded, past the cabin where the French outpost had been surprised, past the cross-road where the little tussle of the afternoon had taken place, over the bridge, up the hill, and thus on and on until he was within a couple of miles of the town of Alaejos.At this point he overtook suddenly another horseman, whom the snow, driving now thick and fast, had hidden from his sight, while the carpeted road had deadened the sound of his own horse's hoofs. Guessing at once that this must be the courier bearing General's Stewart's earlier despatch, the recollection that he had been reported missing made him chuckle. Throwing a word of salutation to the rider as he passed him, he urged his horse to a gallop, soon came to the advanced pickets of the British force, and in a few minutes arrived at the door of the house in which Sir John Moore had fixed his quarters. The general had not long arrived, and was still up, engaged in arranging with a few of his staff the details of the next day's march. Jack was ushered to his room at once. Staggering in, white from head to heel, he drew Stewart's letter and the intercepted despatch from his breast pocket, and, holding them out towards the general, he said:"A despatch, sir, from General Stewart.""Ah, indeed!" said Sir John, rising in his chair. "I hardly expected—why, Colborne, the boy's done up! See to him."Jack's face had turned the colour of his snow-laden cloak, and he would have fallen had not Major Colborne, Moore's secretary, hastily caught him and placed him on a seat, asking one of the aides-de-camp present to give him some cordial. Meanwhile Sir John had hurriedly run his eye over Stewart's covering note, and was now eagerly perusing Berthier's despatch."Gad, we have him at last!" he exclaimed, as he came to the end. The assembled officers looked expectant of an explanation, but at this moment the courier whom Jack had passed on the road entered, bearing the despatch announcing the capture of the French garrison at Rueda."Another despatch!" exclaimed the general; "Stewart appears to have been busy."Tearing it open, he said, with a jubilant note in his voice:"First blood, gentlemen! The campaign has opened at last. General Stewart has captured fifty of Franceschi's chasseurs and seventy of Lefebvre's infantry at Rueda, and—why, what's this? Lieutenant Lumsden missing!"He looked across the room at Jack, who had now recovered, and was sitting, half-asleep, with his back to the wall."You're Mr. Lumsden, surely?" he said."Yes, sir.""I thought I could not be mistaken. How is it you are reported missing in the second despatch?""I was missing when the courier left, sir. I overtook him on the road.""I see. You're dead beat, I'm afraid, but I should be glad to hear how you came by this despatch of yours, if you can manage to keep awake for a few minutes."Jack briefly gave an account of the circumstances."You did very well, uncommonly well, Mr. Lumsden," said Sir John when he had concluded. "Colborne, be good enough to send someone to see Mr. Lumsden safely to the quarters of the 95th. Mr. Lumsden, you will hear from me to-morrow."Jack rose stiffly and saluted; then, accompanied by one of the aides-de-camp, he walked off to the quarters of his battalion. The officers had all gone to bed. Learning from Jack the name of his servant, the aide-de-camp roused the servants' quarters, and, just as the church clock was striking three, Jack was put to bed in a cosy little room on the ground floor of the house by his man Giles Ogbourne.
[image]Jack Captures a Dragoon
[image]
[image]
Jack Captures a Dragoon
"Jolly good chase, sir!" said Kelly, as Jack and his prisoner came up. "The froggies showed the cleanest pair of heels I ever did see."
"You stuck to it like a Briton," said Jack. "Now we'll get back to the others and see what damage is done."
With the two Frenchmen disarmed between them, they retraced their steps, the Frenchmen sitting limp and careless, with a resigned expression of countenance that tickled Kelly's sense of humour.
"Where do you come from, mon brave?" asked Jack of the man next to him.
"From Rueda, monsieur le capitaine," answered the trooper with a smile. Jack chuckled inwardly at his sudden promotion, and went on:
"And what is your regiment?"
"Mais, monsieur, the 22nd Chasseurs of General Franceschi's cavalry. And little did we think, monsieur, that we should meet Englishmen to-day. Eh bien! it is all the fortune of war, and monsieur le capitaine rides a good horse."
"No better than your own, mon brave," said Jack, not to be outdone in politeness. "Well now, how many of your regiment may happen to be in Rueda, if I may ask?"
The trooper looked at him with twinkling eyes.
"Non, non, monsieur le capitaine," he said. "You have captured our patrol: c'est égal! but you want to know too much. I tell you how many? Non, non; but we are enough to capture all Sir Moore's army before it ends its retreat to Lisbon. Monsieur wants to spoil the joke."
"Very well," said Jack with a laugh. "I won't press you; but there are more ways than one of killing a cat, as we say in English."
He kept up an amicable conversation with the Frenchman until they arrived at the cross-roads. There he found his two troopers mounting guard over the four wounded chasseurs, and Jack was sufficiently new to warfare to feel relieved and glad that no life had been lost. The dragoons had made clumsy attempts to bind up their prisoners' wounds, and had allowed the least injured of them to fetch water in his helmet from the stream.
"That's right," said Jack as he came up. "We've had an unexpected piece of luck, my men, and our capture may be important. But we have no time to lose. We made noise enough along the road to bring up the whole French army if it's hereabouts. Lucky the regiment isn't far behind us. Now help these fellows on to their horses; we'll take them back to the hut we left a while ago, and I'll leave them in your charge while I go on alone and pick up a little information."
"May I come, sir?" asked Kelly. "'Tisn't safe to go alone."
"Safer for one than two. But come along; there's no time to waste, and it's getting dark."
In a few minutes the cavalcade had reached the hut on the hillside. The muleteer glowered viciously at the prisoners as they were led up to his door, and handled his knife as though he would have liked there and then to take vengeance upon them for the loss of his favourite pig. But Jack allowed no mistake about his intentions; he told the man that the prisoners would remain with him, in charge of the dragoons, until the British advance-guard under General Stewart arrived.
"I'm going on to Rueda," he added. "How far is it from here?"
"A league and a half, Señor," said the man.
"That's about seven miles as your Spanish league goes. Kelly, if General Stewart arrives before I get back, tell him that there are some of General Franceschi's chasseurs at Rueda on our right flank, and I've gone to find out how many. If all goes well I'll be back within two hours."
"Very good, sir!" said Kelly, and then looked as though he would have said more.
"Well, what is it?" asked Jack.
"Beg pardon, sir, but you'll be nabbed as sure as a gun. Your uniform—"
"Don't worry, Kelly. I'm going to borrow an outfit from one of our French friends here. Come, mon ami," he said, turning to the sergeant whom he had captured, "I must trouble you to take off some of your things—your helmet, say, and your cloak, your breeches, and your boots; I think they'll be enough."
"Pardon, monsieur le capitaine, but I'm a soldier of the emperor, and the emperor would shoot me as a traitor if I parted with my uniform to an Englishman."
"That would be unfortunate. But we can't stand on ceremony now; make haste, if you please."
"But, monsieur," said the man, "the breeches won't fit you."
"They will be a trifle baggy, but no one will be critical in the dark. Come now, hurry up!"
"But, monsieur, I shall be cold, I shall freeze. If monsieur will lend me his things in exchange, perhaps—"
"No, thanks! If you're cold you'd better ask the muleteer to lend you some things, or, better still, go to bed. Kelly, come and help the sergeant off with his things."
But as Kelly approached him with a grin, the Frenchman unclasped his cloak and proceeded to divest himself of the garments Jack required. Soon Jack was cantering off on his reconnoitring expedition to Rueda.
By this time it was almost dark, and Jack rode gently, partly in order to avoid mishap, and partly to spare his horse in case hard work were required of him later. His blood tingled with the excitement of his recent adventure and with anticipation of the unknown adventures before him. Like his brother officers, and indeed every member of the army, from the chief of staff to the smallest drummer-boy, he rejoiced in the sudden change of plan which Sir John Moore had announced about a week before. The news he himself had brought to the general, reinforced by further news obtained through Manuel and Juan, and by information that the Spanish armies were concentrating, had determined Sir John, on December 5th, to countermand his order to retreat. The French, he had learnt, were not marching in his direction, but towards Madrid, which, he was assured, was defended by large forces at the difficult Somosierra Pass, and would resist to the utmost. He put little faith in the Spaniards' power of resistance, but he saw a possibility of creating a diversion in their favour, and of cutting in between Soult and Napoleon and striking a blow at the former. If Madrid had not yet fallen, his movement might draw off Napoleon and save the capital, or at any rate he might make matters so unpleasant, by seizing Valladolid and Burgos, that time would be gained for the re-equipment of the Spanish armies. If, on the other hand, Madrid fell, he could still make a run for it. He therefore ordered Baird on his left and Hope on his right to move forward towards Valladolid, while he himself prepared to advance on the same town by way of Alaejos and Tordesillas, acquainting the Marquis of La Romana, who was at Leon, some 120 miles due north of Salamanca, with his intentions.
A few days after Moore had arrived at this decision he received the news that Madrid had capitulated to Napoleon. It was a severe blow. He had hoped against hope that the Spanish promises would at last be fulfilled, that their boasts would at last justify themselves. Once more the Spaniards had shown their instability. But Moore was not disposed to alter his plans; there seemed every probability of his striking a successful blow at the French communications. On December 11th, then, the infantry moved out from Salamanca, General Paget marching with the reserve for Toro, where his brother, Lord Paget, had already arrived with Baird's cavalry, while Hope left Alba de Tormes next day to join the main body on the Valladolid road. The advance along this road was led by General Charles Stewart's cavalry brigade, consisting of Hussars and Light Dragoons. It happened that during the previous week Jack had more than once been sent backwards and forwards between Salamanca and Alba de Tormes with despatches and reports, and he had come under the notice of General Stewart. When the advance was ordered, Stewart, thinking that Jack would be useful in gathering news from the Spaniards, and acting as interpreter in matters connected with commissariat and billeting, asked that he might be temporarily attached to him as extra aide-de-camp, and it was while riding ahead to enquire about billets in Tordesillas that Jack met with the adventure just related.
As he rode along towards Rueda he could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction at his continued good luck. But he did not indulge in idle dreams. It was now too dark to see, but his ears were keenly alert to catch any sound that betokened danger, and he told Pomeroy afterwards that he felt as sensitive as a cat's whiskers. His enterprise was obviously full of peril, for he had no knowledge of the number of troops in Rueda, or of that town itself, and it behoved him to go warily. If the French force was large, there would certainly be outposts at some distance from the town, and every now and then he pulled up his horse and waited, straining eyes and ears for a sound or a light.
At length, when he had been riding for about three-quarters of an hour, he saw, at the bottom of a slight hollow more than half a mile in his front, a twinkle of light which he inferred came from a house by the roadside. Dismounting at once he led his horse off the road to the left, and found that he was in a vineyard where many of the poles used for supporting the vines were still standing in the soil. He led his horse well out of sight from the road, tied him to one of these poles, patted his neck, and then set off to walk through the field, keeping a distance of about fifty yards from the highway. The light shone more clearly now, and as he approached it he went ever more and more cautiously, stopping at one point to remove the spurs that, in spite of his careful tread, made a slight clanking on the frozen ground. At thirty yards distance from the light he saw that it proceeded from the window of a small cabin not unlike the muleteer's behind him. Now every step he took was as stealthy as a cat's. His pulse beat a little faster as he came within a few feet of the cabin, though he was barely conscious of this, so intent was he on the task in hand.
He crept at first behind the hut and waited for a moment. Voices reached him from within. Pressing his ear against the wooden wall, he distinguished a few exclamations in French, and then a burst of laughter.
"They're having a high old time!" he said to himself with a chuckle. "Evidently well occupied. I'll chance it."
Stealing round the hut he fell down on hands and knees and crawled till he came beneath the window; he then removed his helmet, took a breath, and raised himself inch by inch until he could just peer over the lower sill. For a moment his eyes were dazzled by the light. As they became more accustomed to it he saw four French troopers, in the same uniform as the one he now wore, seated at a round table playing cards. An empty bottle stood in the centre, and some glasses were half-full of red wine. Jack inferred at once that the cabin was a sort of impromptu guard-room, from which sentries were posted at the entrance to the village.
"Pretty sentries!" he said to himself. "I wouldn't give much for their skins if Boney caught them! They're making enough row to drown the sound of an army. So much for that."
Lowering himself with equal care, he crept away, rose to his feet, and set off at a sharp walk towards Rueda. Before long he descried a number of scattered lights ahead. Then he found himself in a lane that appeared to lead towards the town. "Here goes," he thought, and without hesitation struck up the lane in the direction of the lights.
It led straight into the principal street. Jack walked boldly on, thinking that boldness would attract less attention than stealth. He noticed that nearly all the houses at this end of the place were lit up. Sounds of merriment floated upon the air—a laugh, a cheer, an exclamation of anger, the clink of glasses, the rattle of dice. There was a small inn; twenty yards away Jack smelt fried onions, and longed for his supper. The street was empty, and as he went forward he observed that the houses were almost all dark, and guessed that the French were billeted at the end he had passed. By and by he came to the Plaza, a narrow open space in the centre of the town, and saw what was evidently the town-house looming before him, a large building in the middle of the square. He halted in the shadow of a church porch.
"There'll be a sentry posted here," he thought. "I wonder which side of the building he is on!" He hesitated for a moment whether to proceed or to return at once, seeing no prospect of obtaining definite information of the number of the French. "In for a penny in for a pound," he said to himself; "I'll try another few yards."
He chose the street passing by the left-hand face of the town-house, and stole along on tiptoe. A narrow beam of light fell obliquely across the street from an upper window on his left, throwing a luminous circle on the townhouse wall just above the level of his head. He skirted the wall, and had reached the mid-point of that face of the square, when a voice suddenly arrested his steps.
"Señor, charity for a poor prisoner. A copper, Señor, for the love of God!"
The voice appeared to come from just above his head. There was something in the tone that seemed familiar, and with a quickening pulse he resolved to test the surmise which had flashed upon him. Retracing his steps for a couple of yards, he looked up, and there, full in the shaft of light from the house opposite, he saw the barred grating of a dungeon, and, pressed against the bars—yes, it was the small elfin face of the gipsy boy Pepito. "Here's luck again!" he thought. Being below the level of the beam of light, Jack himself was out of sight, and he knew that Pepito could only have caught the sound of his footsteps, and must have addressed him without knowing who he was. Putting his hand into the pocket of his breeches—forgetting they were not his own—he took out a few copper coins, and stretched his arm up towards the grating.
"Here you are, poor prisoner!" he said softly in Spanish.
A low exclamation answered him. The coins were taken, and a small lean hand pressed his gently.
"Muchas gracias," said Pepito; then turning to speak to someone behind him in the cell: "A Christian gives alms to the poor, and four noble Spaniards and a gipsy boy will not go supperless to bed."
"Four noble Spaniards!" echoed Jack. "Let me speak with one of them."
Pepito disappeared instantly, and his place was taken by a large, heavy-jawed Spaniard, whom Jack recognized at once as the stableman who had led the pursuit of him from Olmedo. The man looked suspiciously at the French uniform.
"Hist! I may help you," began Jack, but at this moment he heard the clamp-clamp of ammunition boots approaching from round the corner behind him. "The sentry!" he thought. "Silence! I will come back," he whispered.
He crept along the wall on tiptoe, in the direction away from the approaching footsteps. At the same time he heard from within the cell Pepito's shrill voice in song:
"Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"
"Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"
"Kosko gry! Romany gry!
Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"
"Clever little imp!" he thought. "He didn't give me away to his companions there, and now he's trying to smother the sound of my footsteps."
He turned the corner and waited. The sentry was still approaching with measured tread, and when he arrived beneath the grating he cried angrily:
"Tais-toi, maraud! Il faut te taire, ou je vais te brûler la cervelle."
The singing ceased, and the sentry with a grunt resumed his march.
"He's going to make the round of the building," thought Jack. "So will I; but I hope to goodness no one will be passing on the other side."
He tiptoed along and turned the other corner. Not a soul was to be seen. He waited. On this face of the building was the door, over which a feeble light flickered, and Jack wondered whether it was open, and if he would be seen from within. But there was no time for hesitation. The tramping sentry was coming behind him. Taking his courage in both hands, Jack slipped along, passed the door safely, turned the farther corner, and in another half-minute was back under the grating, breathless with excitement.
For a moment he stood listening. The sentry had halted in front of the building.
"Hist! Are you there?" he whispered towards the grating.
"Sí, Señor," said the man.
"Now, answer quickly. How many French are in the town?"
"About a hundred, Señor."
"Foot or horse?"
"Half one, half the other."
"And they come from—"
"From Segovia, Señor."
"That'll do. Where's that gipsy boy?"
"But, Señor—"
"Hush! Where's the gipsy?"
"Here, Señor," said Pepito, pulling the Spaniard away.
"Here's a few pesetas. Buy them all a supper from the jailer. All being well, I'll have you out to-night."
Then he thought for an instant. He must make sure his escape from the town. What if the sentry were again moving round the square? Stepping softly into the road, he picked up a large loose cobble and flung it with all his force towards the corner farthest away from the road he meant to take. The stone struck the road several yards beyond the building, and made a clatter as it ricochetted along. He heard an exclamation from the sentry, who set off at a quick step in the direction of the sound. Without more delay Jack hastened in the opposite direction, hearing behind him, more and more faintly, the quaint refrain of the gipsy's wild song:
"Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"
"Kosko gry! Romany gry!Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"
"Kosko gry! Romany gry!
Muk man kistur tuté knaw!"
He arrived safely at the end of the street. The mirth of the French was even more uproarious, their fancied security clearly still more confident. Out of the town, into the lane, Jack hurried at full speed; past the guard-house, along over the field, among the bare vine-poles until he reached his horse again. A whinny greeted him. He sprang on to the animal's back, and cantered back rapidly in the direction of the Valladolid road.
"We'll make a clean swoop of them or I'm a Dutchman," he said to himself gleefully. "Was there ever such luck—and such bad management! Won't Charley Stewart be delighted!"
On he rode, keeping his ears open for the slightest sound. He had come, as he judged, within a mile of the scene of his afternoon's adventure when he heard the sound of horses trotting. Turning off the road, he walked his horse for some distance across the field and waited. The riders were approaching him. He tried to determine from the sound of the hoofs how many they were. Then he heard voices—they carried far in the silence of the frosty night,—and as they came opposite him he heard an English voice say with a growl:
"'Pon my soul, the madcap deserves to be nabbed!"
"Charley himself!" chuckled Jack. "Who goes there?" he called.
The horses stopped, and a voice called sharply:
"Who are you?"
"Lumsden of the 95th."
"Gad, it's the fellow himself. Come and show yourself, you daredevil! Where in the world have you been?"
"Into Rueda and back, sir," said Jack, saluting.
"And what the blazes have you been doing there?"
"Taking stock, sir. There are a hundred French in the town, cavalry and infantry mixed, and they're all hard at it with drink and cards."
"The deuce they are! No sentries, eh?"
"A few in a cabin this side of the town, sir, but they're busy at the same game."
"Are they, begad? Seymour, we'll collar this little lot. We were coming to rescue your dead body, young man, and you've disappointed us. Ride back, there, and tell the squadron to hurry. We'll draw first blood to-night."
Ten minutes later the whole squadron of 250 men of the 18th Light Dragoons, General Stewart himself in command, were on their way to Rueda. Jack rode ahead by the general's side—no longer in French uniform, for when the squadron arrived on the scene Kelly came forward and said:
"Brought these, sir; thought you might want 'em."
He handed Jack his head-dress and cloak, receiving the Frenchman's cloak and helmet in exchange.
"I didn't bring the breeches, sir," added Kelly, "thinking it might be a cold change to-night."
"Right, Kelly! and that reminds me that I've borrowed some of the Frenchman's money; all fair in war, eh?"
General Stewart enquired of Jack as they rode how he had contrived to pick up his information.
"Famous, famous!" he exclaimed when the tale had been briefly told. "We mustn't let a man escape if we can help it. If Franceschi doesn't hear of this we may scoop up his whole division. How are we going to escape the sentries? They can't fail to hear us on this hard road, and we can't muffle the horses' hoofs."
"If you like, sir," suggested Jack, "I'll go ahead with a few men across the fields and collar them first."
"You want to do it all, eh? Very well; we'll halt when you tell us. If anything goes wrong, give us a hail and we'll be on your tracks like the wind."
When he judged that the squadron had arrived at a safe distance Jack gave the word, the general halted, and Jack went forward across the fields with four men to make a detour and come upon the sentries' cabin from the direction of Rueda, thereby to deceive the Frenchmen into the belief that the approaching riders were a party coming out to relieve guard. Jack's men had ridden two hundred yards beyond the cabin, and were just turning to the left to regain the road, when one of the men declared that he heard the sound of trotting horses from the town.
"That's a relief patrol," said Jack. "Ride back to the general, Kelly; tell him we can hardly hope to surprise the town now, and ask him to pick up the men in the cabin as he passes. Now, dragoons, forward with me into Rueda."
They set spurs to their horses, and made for the road. Secrecy was no longer possible; the approaching chasseurs heard them, stopped short, hesitated a moment, then turned tail and made at full speed back towards the town, with Jack and his men close at their heels.
"Who's in first, my boys!" cried Jack, rising in his stirrups and urging his flying steed. On they went, heedless of the road, sparks flying from the hoofs, the horses snorting with the joy of the chase. Into the town with a clash and a clatter!
"Sauve qui peut! Les Anglais! Les Anglais!" shouted the sergeant of the flying patrol. Instantly the little town was filled with noise, the inns belched forth their scared revellers, from every house streamed soldiers, drunk and sober, some in full uniform, some half-dressed, some without swords, some without muskets, the chasseurs clamouring for their horses, the officers of Lefebvre's infantry shouting to their men to form up and stand firm in the square. Jack dashed on. A pistol flashed at him; he heeded nothing, keeping his eye on the form of the sergeant who headed the patrol, and who had now distanced his companions, and was clearly making in a panic for safety. By this time about sixty of the infantry had formed up in some sort of order in the square. Giving rein to his horse, the sergeant of chasseurs, yelling incoherent exclamations, dashed into their midst, cleft a way through them, and pelted on towards the other end of the town. At his heels flew Jack, whom in the confusion and the semi-darkness the Frenchmen appeared to take for one of themselves. Behind him he heard the clatter of hoofs and the shouts of Stewart's dragoons as they dashed into the town, the crack of pistols, the dull thud of infantry muskets, then the clash of sabres and the yells of wounded men. Still he rode on. "Not a man must escape," the general had said, and not a man should, if Jack could help it.
He was now out of the town, and the Frenchman was apparently losing ground. Jack spurred his panting horse, and knew by the louder clicks of the hoofs before him that he was gaining on the enemy. But it was only for a moment. The chasseur shouted to his horse, flung a mocking cry behind, and tore on at increased speed. On went Jack, his mouth set, determined to run his quarry down if only his horse would hold out. Mile after mile the chase continued; each horseman could hear the pants of the other's steed, each rode headlong, careless of ruts or stones, Jack hoping now against hope that something would happen to check the Frenchman's career. His own horse was almost done; he remembered that it had had scarcely any rest for half a day, while the chasseur's was probably fresh; and it occurred to him at length that the Frenchman could easily have outstripped him if he pleased, and must be holding him now for his own malicious amusement, or perhaps to lure him on till he reached a larger body of Franceschi's men. Just as he was wondering whether it might not be the more discreet part to relinquish the chase, he caught sight of lights ahead. The Frenchman was quickening his pace; evidently then he did not expect to find friends in the village or town to which they were coming. Jack endeavoured to get still more out of his own breathless steed. On went the chasseur at full gallop into the town. At the door of an inn a group of men was gathered, some of their number holding flaring torches above their heads. The crowd parted to make way for the flying horseman, and he dashed pell-mell through their midst.
"The game's up!" thought Jack with a sigh of disappointment. "Poor old horse! You're done up." He rode into the crowd. "After him!" he cried in Spanish, pointing after the Frenchman. "After him, hombres! The English are at Rueda. Don't let him escape. My horse is foundered; somebody mount and catch the dog!"
But not a man moved in response to his cry. Jack dismounted, trembling in every limb, and furious with the Spaniards for their apathy. As he led his quivering horse towards the inn, and the throng gathered around him, he stopped suddenly, for there, in front of the inn door, stretched on his back, lay a soldier, his eyes closed, his cheeks pale in the ghastly torchlight, a dark stain marking the frosty road.
"What is it? Who is he?" asked Jack. He looked round, and saw at the inn door a man with a reeking knife in his hand. As Jack passed, the man came forward.
"I did it! One of the accursed French. I killed him!"
He went on to explain that he was the posting-master of the place. The French horseman had ridden up half an hour before and demanded refreshment; he had behaved with such insolence and brutality that human nature could not endure it.
"He was an enemy of my country, and I killed him!" the man concluded.
Jack shuddered involuntarily, and stepped round the corpse to enter the inn.
CHAPTER X
The Emperor's Despatch
Spoils of War—Hard Cash—A Good Bargain—"To Command the World"—A Wigging—"Missing"—Through the Night—Dead Beat—Grumbling—A Late Breakfast—Mixed Metaphors—A Change of Route
Jack threw himself wearily into a chair. He was tired, famished, disappointed—above all, disappointed,—for he had set his heart on capturing the Frenchman as a crowning achievement for this crowded day. For a few moments he sat staring with downcast eyes at the floor; then he pulled himself together.
"It can't be helped," he thought. "I did my best.—Landlord, give me some food."
The landlord put down on the table, between two smoking candles, the knife which he had retained up to this moment.
"Some food for the caballero," he said to one of his men. "And you, Perez, go outside and bury that carrion Frenchman."
Some minutes passed. Jack found that he had no appetite for the crude dishes set before him, and heard dully, with inattentive ears, the slow monotone of the landlord, who seemed to be anxious to justify to himself the act of murder he had committed. Presently two of the inn servants entered.
"We have buried him, master," said the first. "And his clothes are rich; we thought maybe you would wish to have them."
His companion came forward, and laid before the inn-keeper a heap of garments.
"He was a handsome man," added the first.
"Fine feathers, fine feathers!" muttered the landlord. He took the garments up one by one, turning them over and commenting on them. There was a black cloth pelisse, a white dolman with gold braid and fur, and a shako of scarlet cloth, surmounted by an aigrette of white heron's plumes. The uniform was ornate with gold braid, cord, and buttons; and a rich sash of black and gold silk, a small cartridge-pouch, a sabretache, and a long Damascene sabre completed the brilliant appointments. As Jack watched the landlord fingering the articles, he recognized vaguely that they could only have belonged to a soldier of high rank or position, and for the first time he wondered what had brought the Frenchman to this out-of-the-way village of Valdestillos. The landlord stroked the fur of the dolman caressingly.
"Worth some dollars, this," he said, shaking it out to see its full extent. As he did so, a folded paper fell to the floor. Jack was up in an instant.
"I want that," he said, fatigue, hunger, disappointment forgotten at once. He stepped forward, but the landlord put his foot on the paper.
"No, no, Señor," he said quickly. "He was my prisoner; I killed him; all his things are mine."
"But don't you see," said Jack, now hardly able to control his excitement; "don't you see, the man was a despatch-rider! That explains his rich uniform. Perhaps he was one of Napoleon's own aides-de-camp, and the fate of all Spain may lie in that simple paper. You must give it to me, landlord; I must take it to my general."
Jack was too much agitated at the moment to perceive that his urgent manner was likely to defeat his ends. The probability that the paper had value had aroused the cupidity of the landlord, who stooped cautiously, picked up the despatch, and thrust it into his pocket.
"It is mine—mine," he said gloatingly. The man's attitude served to quiet Jack's nerves.
"Very well," he said. "Keep it. I wouldn't be in your shoes for something. Your servants have seen the despatch. Look, there's a crowd of peasants gaping at the door there. You can't keep it quiet, even if anything happens to me; and when General Stewart finds out what a patriot you are, he'll send you to the Marquis of La Romana, and then—"
Jack shrugged expressively. The servants cast uneasy glances at their master, who at first frowned at them, then himself looked uncomfortable.
"What does the Señor offer for it?" he said at length with a covetous leer.
"You sell your patriotism, eh? Well, I'll give you five dollars."
The landlord shook his head.
"I have lost many dollars of late through the war. It is worth more than five dollars."
"Well, I won't stick at a few dollars. Say ten."
"No, no. The Marquis of La Romana would give more than ten."
"I won't haggle with you," cried Jack. "I make you a last offer. If you accept it, you are so much to the good; if you refuse it, you not only won't get a maravedi, but you'll come pretty badly off when the authorities hear of it. I'll give you twenty dollars, and not a peseta more."
The landlord looked at him enquiringly, as though questioning whether he might not squeeze a few more dollars from the young officer. Jack eyed him firmly.
"That's final," he said. "Twenty dollars, or nothing, plus your country's curse."
"A paltry sum!" said the innkeeper. "In cash?" he asked cunningly.
"In cash. I have the money here."
"Let me see it."
Chafing at the man's suspicion, Jack unbuckled his belt, and counted out from the pockets on the inside twenty small golden dollars of the old coinage of Spain. The landlord's eye gleamed. He took out the despatch from his pocket, and held it doubtingly in his hand.
"Give me ten dollars first," he said.
Angrier than ever, but outwardly calm, Jack handed over ten of the coins. The man bit each one between his teeth, and dropped them into his pouch.
"Take it, Señor," he said.
It was the most exciting moment Jack remembered in his life when he took the folded paper in his hand, and paid the balance of the price. He turned it over; there was no writing on it; the flap was fastened with a great red seal; what if it was no despatch after all? Instantly he broke the seal, and, unfolding the stiff paper, read at the top:
"To the Marshal Duke of Dalmatia, commanding the Second Army Corps at Saldana, the Vice-Constable Major-General".
His eyes swam, and he felt a rush of blood to his cheeks. The landlord was droning on to his servants, and Jack remembered afterwards, with infinite amusement, that, at this tense moment, he had heard as in a dream the land-lord directing his servant to put out one of the candles; one was enough: "'Tis a waste of good pork fat, and we have no pigs left in Spain—bar the French."
He read on by the light of one guttering dip, running his eye rapidly down the closely-written page. Moment by moment his joy increased. The despatch was written from Chamartin by Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel, and Jack saw that it contained Napoleon's plan of campaign, and gave information of the position of his armies which would be beyond price to Moore. Having read it hastily, he went through it again with more care, fixing the details in his mind in case by any mishap he should lose it before reaching head-quarters. What he read was as follows:—
"I read to the Emperor your letter of the 4th of December, which was brought by one of your officers. His Majesty approves of all you have done. The brigades of Generals Debelle and Franceschi are under your orders, and you can manoeuvre them as you think proper. The Emperor is of opinion that with the division of Merle and the division of Mouton, together with the four regiments of cavalry, nothing can resist you.
"What are you to do? Take possession of Leon, drive back the enemy into Galicia, make yourself master of Benavente and Zamora. You can have no English in your front, for some of their regiments came to the Escurial and Salamanca, and everything shows that they are in full retreat. Our advance-guard is this day at Talavera de la Reyna, upon the road to Badajos, which it will reach soon. It will be clear to you that this movement must compel the English to hasten immediately to Lisbon, if they have not gone there already. The moment you are sure that the English have retreated (of which there is every presumption), move forward with rapidity. There are no Spaniards who can resist your two divisions. Order shoes and greatcoats to be made at Leon, Santander, and Palencia. His Majesty grants every demand for improving your equipment. You may also require mules for your artillery, and horses to remount your cavalry; but let it all be done according to the regular forms of administration.
"It is possible that as soon as the dragoons of General Millet arrive in Spain, the Emperor will send them on to you. But his cannot happen for a fortnight. At the distance at which you are you must be guided by what you think best, and look upon all I write as only general instructions. His Majesty conceives that you will take measures to reduce the country between the Douro, Galicia, and the Asturias, always most carefully guarding Santander. The 5th Corps, commanded by the Marshal Duke of Treviso, has been ordered to advance on Saragossa; the 8th Corps, under the Duke of Abrantes, whose 1st Division arrived at Vittoria on the 12th, will probably receive orders to concentrate at Burgos. Gunboats and armoured vessels of any kind have orders to sail for Santander. Load them with confiscated English merchandise, cotton, wool, artillery, and send all to France.
"Five divisions of Castaños' best troops have been routed with even less difficulty than you found in beating the Estremaduran army at Burgos. The wreck of Castaños' army is being pursued by Marshal Bessières, who has cut them off the road to Estremadura, and is pursuing them towards Valencia, several marches beyond the Tagus. The Emperor's headquarters are at Chamartin, a little country seat a league and a half from Madrid. His Majesty enjoys an excellent state of health.
"The city of Madrid is quite tranquil. The shops are all open, the public amusements are resumed, and there is not the least appearance of our first proposals having been emphasized by 4000 cannon balls.
"Major-General.
"I will send you to-morrow a proclamation and some decrees of the Emperor, in which you will recognize the style of him who was born to command the world."
Every word was impressed on Jack's memory as though burnt in with fire. He had been disappointed of catching a Frenchman! He almost laughed aloud, for here, surely, was a find worth a king's ransom.
"Landlord, I ride back to Rueda." His voice had the ring of authority. "My own horse is tired. I will ride the Frenchman's horse. You will keep mine here until it is sent for, and a fair price shall be paid you for the other if mine is returned to me safe and sound. At once, if you please!"
It was not the Spaniard's way to move with alacrity, and it took fifteen minutes to saddle the horse and bring it round from the stables. Then Jack mounted, his whole body tingling with joy; and, the despatch carefully buttoned up inside his tunic, he set off on the fine Arab gray for Rueda.
The horse was not too fresh, and went all too slowly for Jack's eager haste. It was near midnight when he cantered into the open street of Rueda, and dismounted at the door of the posada. There was a light in this as in many other houses, and he guessed that here he would be most likely to find General Stewart. The sound of his horse's hoofs had drawn an orderly to the door.
"Ah, Benson, catch hold of this nag, there's a good fellow! Is the general up?"
"Yes, you'll find him in the first room, sir."
Jack waited to hear no more. He almost ran into the room, and found himself in the presence of General Stewart and a few other officers.
"Oh, it's you!" said Stewart, turning on his chair to face the intruder. "Now, look here, Lumsden, this is all very well, but things may go too far, you know. 'Twas a mere fool's trick to bolt off after a runaway vedette when, for all you knew, a whole army-corps was within a mile of us."
"Sorry, sir," said Jack, "but I understood that you wished to secure the whole party, and I went after the only one that had escaped.... There are no Frenchmen on the road; in fact, to the best of my belief there's only one Frenchman between here and Valladolid, and he's dead."
"You got him after all, then?" said Stewart with a gleam of interest.
"Unluckily no, sir; he got off. It was another fellow, and he carried this despatch."
The general took the paper without a word. He opened it, and began to read.
"Gad, what a find!" he exclaimed. "Look here, Seymour. 'Born to command the world', begad!"
The other officers got up and looked over his shoulder. Jack watched their faces, and noticed how their expression changed from an ordinary interest and amusement to an excitement rivalling his own.
"By George, Lumsden," cried the general as he finished the document, "you've found a treasure here!"
"It cost me twenty dollars, sir."
"Dirt cheap at twenty thousand! How did it happen?"
Jack briefly told the story.
"Boney was always too careless about his aides-de-camp," said Seymour. "The idea of sending the poor chap off without an escort!"
"Spare your pity!" laughed Stewart. "This must go off to the commander-in-chief at once." He looked at Jack, and added dryly: "I suppose you are too tired to take it yourself?"
"If you'll give me a fresh horse I'll start at once, sir."
"Very well, though you look dog-tired. Have you got a flask you can give him, Seymour? That's right. There's a fellow half an hour ahead of you, with a despatch reporting our capture here—and I've put you down as missing, my boy. You're sure you can do it? It's a ride of nearly twenty miles."
"I'll go, sir," said Jack simply. "May I mention two things? I left my horse at the posting inn at Valdestillos, and promised to send for it and buy the Frenchman's gray. Will you look at it, sir, and offer a price? And there was a little gipsy boy with a few Spaniards in the watch-house here. The boy has been rather useful to me; will you order him and the rest to be released and looked after a bit?"
"Done to both. I'll buy the horse myself if he's fit; and as for the boy and those Spanish louts, they were released long ago, and the gipsy has kept the men in fits with his monkey antics. Now wait just a moment while I scribble a note to Sir John, and then be off, and think yourself a lucky young dog."
When Jack, fortified with Captain Seymour's flask, went to the door to mount his horse, he became for the first time thoroughly aware how tired he was. He had been in the saddle almost without intermission for more than twelve hours, and as he lifted his foot to the stirrup, he felt as though his thigh was weighted with lead, and on the point of snapping. But he would never have confessed his fatigue, much less have abnegated his right to carry the important despatch to the commander-in-chief; so, aching but cheerful, he cantered off into the night.
He had a ride of eighteen or twenty miles before him, and it was now past midnight. "Thank heaven!" he said to himself, "in three hours or so I shall be between the sheets." Soon after he started, snow began to fall in scattered flakes, giving cold and gentle dabs to his face. The horse answered to his spur, and trotted rapidly along the solitary road, which grew whiter and whiter as he proceeded, past the cabin where the French outpost had been surprised, past the cross-road where the little tussle of the afternoon had taken place, over the bridge, up the hill, and thus on and on until he was within a couple of miles of the town of Alaejos.
At this point he overtook suddenly another horseman, whom the snow, driving now thick and fast, had hidden from his sight, while the carpeted road had deadened the sound of his own horse's hoofs. Guessing at once that this must be the courier bearing General's Stewart's earlier despatch, the recollection that he had been reported missing made him chuckle. Throwing a word of salutation to the rider as he passed him, he urged his horse to a gallop, soon came to the advanced pickets of the British force, and in a few minutes arrived at the door of the house in which Sir John Moore had fixed his quarters. The general had not long arrived, and was still up, engaged in arranging with a few of his staff the details of the next day's march. Jack was ushered to his room at once. Staggering in, white from head to heel, he drew Stewart's letter and the intercepted despatch from his breast pocket, and, holding them out towards the general, he said:
"A despatch, sir, from General Stewart."
"Ah, indeed!" said Sir John, rising in his chair. "I hardly expected—why, Colborne, the boy's done up! See to him."
Jack's face had turned the colour of his snow-laden cloak, and he would have fallen had not Major Colborne, Moore's secretary, hastily caught him and placed him on a seat, asking one of the aides-de-camp present to give him some cordial. Meanwhile Sir John had hurriedly run his eye over Stewart's covering note, and was now eagerly perusing Berthier's despatch.
"Gad, we have him at last!" he exclaimed, as he came to the end. The assembled officers looked expectant of an explanation, but at this moment the courier whom Jack had passed on the road entered, bearing the despatch announcing the capture of the French garrison at Rueda.
"Another despatch!" exclaimed the general; "Stewart appears to have been busy."
Tearing it open, he said, with a jubilant note in his voice:
"First blood, gentlemen! The campaign has opened at last. General Stewart has captured fifty of Franceschi's chasseurs and seventy of Lefebvre's infantry at Rueda, and—why, what's this? Lieutenant Lumsden missing!"
He looked across the room at Jack, who had now recovered, and was sitting, half-asleep, with his back to the wall.
"You're Mr. Lumsden, surely?" he said.
"Yes, sir."
"I thought I could not be mistaken. How is it you are reported missing in the second despatch?"
"I was missing when the courier left, sir. I overtook him on the road."
"I see. You're dead beat, I'm afraid, but I should be glad to hear how you came by this despatch of yours, if you can manage to keep awake for a few minutes."
Jack briefly gave an account of the circumstances.
"You did very well, uncommonly well, Mr. Lumsden," said Sir John when he had concluded. "Colborne, be good enough to send someone to see Mr. Lumsden safely to the quarters of the 95th. Mr. Lumsden, you will hear from me to-morrow."
Jack rose stiffly and saluted; then, accompanied by one of the aides-de-camp, he walked off to the quarters of his battalion. The officers had all gone to bed. Learning from Jack the name of his servant, the aide-de-camp roused the servants' quarters, and, just as the church clock was striking three, Jack was put to bed in a cosy little room on the ground floor of the house by his man Giles Ogbourne.