CHAPTER II.
We were again quartered in Fuentes, but the place was sadly altered; the inhabitants had fled, many ofthe houses were destroyed, and all of them plundered; although the dead had been in general buried, there still remained some bodies lying about swelled and blackened by the heat of the sun; the ground was strewed with uniform caps and clothing, and the streets were dyed with the blood of the combatants; the whole place wore an air of desolation and wretchedness. We were only a few days there when we received orders to march along with the 7th division, for the purpose of laying siege to Badajos, a fortified town on the Spanish frontier, in the province of Estremadura. The distance between Fuentes and Badajos might be about 40 leagues, Portuguese, (150 miles;) we proceeded by Alfeyates, Penamacore, and Castello Branco, where we were quartered in a Franciscan convent for two days. From thence we marched to Villa Valhe, where boats were ready for us to cross the Tagus. This was a romantic spot: the side on which we lay previous to passing was a plain, the opposite one a mountain, which rose abrupt and precipitous, clothed with trees and bushes to the top, throwing its dark shade on the bosom of the river which rolled along at its base, deep, dark, and rapid. Here it was reported Lord Wellington had lost his two orderly dragoons some days before. He had received information that the French army under Marshal Soult was coming down in great force on Beresford’s army, and he was so anxious to get forward, that when he came to the river, and found the bridge of boats not thrown across, he plunged in followed by his orderly dragoons, (certainly a most hazardous attempt;) the current was so strong that the dragoons with their horses were carried away and drowned, his lordship only escaping by the superior strength of his horse.
Having crossed the river, we proceeded by a winding road cut in the face of a hill to Niza; this was a most distressing march, being up hill the whole way. Passing Alpalhao, we reached Porto Legre two days after. From this we marched to Arronches, and from thence to Campo Mayor, situated about ten milesfrom Badajos, where we remained for some days, while preparations were making for the siege. This was a very handsome town, walled, but very slightly fortified; one building in particular, a small chapel, called Capella des Osses, is worth noticing. It had been erected to commemorate some massacre. The whole interior was built up with skulls and thigh bones, laid across, and two skeletons, one on each side, were built into the wall.
On the 25th of May we marched towards Badajos, which the French had gained possession of in the beginning of the campaign, through the treachery of the Spanish governor, at the very time Lord Wellington had promised relief, and given orders to hold out. When we first came in sight of the town, its spires appeared above the hill which rises on the Campo Mayor side of it, as if the town lay immediately beneath, but we found it was still a great way off; we then took a circuitous route to the left of the town, and having crossed the Guidiana, we encamped about three miles from it, on the slope of a small hill which skirted the Elvas road; here we constructed huts in the best manner we could, with bushes and branches of trees.
On the night of the 29th, the stores and ordnance having arrived, we marched down towards the town, for the purpose of breaking ground: it was fortunately very dark, and as we kept the greatest silence, the French were not aware of our approach. When we reached the place where it was intended we should open the trenches, we formed a line across the front of the town, where two thousand intrenching tools had been laid. We were then told our safety depended on expedition, for if the French discovered our presence before we had worked ourselves under cover, a warm salute might be expected. The officers were dependent on our exertions for safety; and it was remarked in what kind and familiar tones some of those spoke, who, in greater security, would have acted the blustering tyrant. I cannot understand what makes many officers so supercilious, haughty, and morose to their men,when, by a little good humour, or friendly feeling displayed, I have no doubt they might not only make themselves beloved, but have their orders much better obeyed.
We now commenced work vigorously, and in six hours were under cover, without the French having discovered our presence. The operations of the siege were now carried on with great vigour on both sides of the river Guidiana; the opposite one was conducted by the seventh division against fort St Christoval, an outwork that protected the advance to the bridge. By the second of June we had two batteries playing on the walls, and four were opened by the seventh division on fort St Christoval. The guns were partly served by Portuguese artillery, who behaved extremely well. The troops were told off in two parties, relieving each other every twenty-four hours.
A communication was kept up between the several trenches, and a covered way formed, which prevented the men from being so much exposed in going to, and returning from the camp; but still we suffered severely from the enemy’s shot and shell, with which they now plied us hotly, having their guns constantly ready to fire at even a single individual if he put his head above the trench; and the shells fired from the garrison were thrown so as to make them fall in it. At night we could see them by the fusee, and were often enabled to get out of their way; in the day, we ran more risk, although we could still distinguish them from shot, by the whistling sound they made coming through the air.
The second or third night after the trenches were opened, Dennis and I were down on the working party. Captain S——, already mentioned, was one of the officers. They were telling off a covering party, who were to go out in front, to prevent any sudden surprise by the enemy making a sortie, when the word ‘shell!’ was given. All eyes were instantly turned on it, watching its direction, that they might run in the opposite one. Captain S——, although so valiant on parade, seemed to have no predilection for a ‘gloriousdeath’ more than his neighbours; and he, in company with a brother captain, headed the retreat. They had not gone many paces, when notice was given of another shell falling in the direction they were running. By this time the first had fallen short of the trench, and a retrograde movement took place; but the captains were now in a bad plight, for the crowd was so condensed in the direction they had to go, that there was no getting through. The shell was giving intelligence by its quickened revolutions, that it was falling, but there was no means of escape, the whole were fairly wedged in and had fallen on each other; and had the shell burst among them, it would have made dreadful havoc. As I threw myself down by the side of the trench, I perceived Captain S—— running about like a chicken in a coop, seeking an opening by which he might escape, but finding none he wormed his head into the crowd, which had fallen in his front, and thus remained. The shell fell in a direction that placed me in imminent danger; but I could not refrain from laughing at his ludicrous position; it burst, however, without doing any injury.
On one occasion, when Dennis and I were on duty in the trench, and at one of the batteries with some others, at the formation of an embrasure, we had nearly completed it, but it still required opening and facing off towards the enemy; this was a very hazardous business, as we were sure of a volley of cannon shot, the moment we mounted the parapet. ‘Come, my brave fellows,’ said the superintending engineer officer, ‘which of you will volunteer to go outside, and form the embrasure?’ Dennis and I were standing close by him, and jumped upon the top of the breastwork. We were followed by two more, but had scarcely appeared, when a cannon shot striking the parapet close where I stood, covered me with earth. ‘Never mind,’ said Dennis, ‘to miss is as good as a mile,’ He scarcely had finished, when he was served in the same manner—no way dispirited, he exclaimed, ‘Time about is fair play.’ One of the lads who worked with us began to show symptomsof fear. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Dennis, ‘you’ll never die till your time come.’ His eloquence did not seem to take effect. ‘Go into the trench,’ said Dennis, ‘we will do without you.’ The lad was in the act of doing so, when a shot struck him, and he fell mortally wounded. Soon after, our dinners having come down, we were relieved by others and called in. The mess I belonged to had sat down round the camp kettle, and were beginning to help themselves, when the cry ‘shell!’ was given; all were to their feet in an instant, for we found by the noise that it was coming in our direction. The others endeavoured to make their escape; whether from a belief in Dennis’s doctrine of predestination, I cannot at present recollect, but instead of running from it, I threw myself down flat in the embrasure. I had scarcely done so, when the shell fell within two yards of me. ‘Now,’ thought I, ‘there is no chance of escape,’ and during the few seconds of suspense, while the last part of the fusee was whizzing in my ear, reflections which would have occupied an hour at another time, on home, parents, death, and my future fate, whirled through my mind, like a wild and giddy dream. The shell burst, and for a few moments I was bereaved of recollection. Coming to myself, I scrambled out from amongst the stuff with which I was covered. ‘Are you kilt?’ asked Dennis, running up to me with an expression of real concern: looking to myself to see whether I was wounded, I replied, ‘No;’ but I had been well frightened. ‘That’s right, my boy,’ said he, ‘I don’t believe the shot’s made that will kill any of us. Many’s the long yarn about this business I’ll be after telling to the ould women of Ireland yet.’
On the sixth, the breach in fort St Christoval being considered practicable, a detachment of the different regiments composing the seventh division was selected to storm it: being at night we could not see the attack farther than the flash of their fire-arms, which, from our encampment, looked like an exhibition of fire works; but we understood that from the nature of the impediments thrown in our way, although they hadadvanced under a heavy discharge of shot and shell from the town, and musketry and hand grenades from the garrison, they were unable to succeed, and were ordered to retire. The firing was continued upon the breach for three days longer, and a second attempt was made to carry it on the evening of the ninth, with another detachment of the seventh division. The attack was made with the utmost gallantry, and they advanced intrepidly to the foot of the breach; but the same obstacles presented themselves as on the first attempt, and after having suffered most severely, without being able to effect a lodgment, they were again ordered to retire. The loss in officers and men was considerable.
The men of our division, unaccustomed to failure in any enterprise, and perhaps rather conceited, were inclined to attribute the failure of these attempts to the troops composing the seventh division being mostly foreigners; but in this opinion it is likely they were wrong, as in the subsequent storming of the town, in the ensuing year, the obstacles thrown in the way were sufficient to resist even the bravest British troops. A day or two after this affair, intelligence having been received that Soult was advancing with a large army, for the purpose of relieving Badajos, Wellington deemed it prudent to raise the siege, converting it into a blockade. From this until the seventeenth we were busy withdrawing the guns and stores, which were sent to the garrison of Elvas, as a place of security, and on the seventeenth quitted our investment of the place, and withdrew to Campo Mayor. On the morning we left it, the French cavalry were out skirmishing with a party of the eleventh hussars, who were covering our retreat, and followed us the greater part of the way.
While in Campo Mayor, where we remained for some time, a German of the sixtieth regiment, a Frenchman, and two Italians, belonging to the Chasseurs Britannique, were shot for desertion,—the former belonging to our division, the latter three to theseventh. On the morning that the sentence of the first was carried into execution, the division was assembled outside of the town, where they formed three sides of a square. The prisoner was marched past the various regiments, accompanied by the chaplain of the division, and the guard appointed to shoot him. When his devotions were finished, he was blindfolded by the provost marshal, and placed kneeling on the brink of his grave already open to receive him. He gave the signal, and the next moment he fell pierced by half a dozen musket balls. The different regiments then marched past the body, receiving the word ‘eyes left’ as they past him.
I was on the general provost guard, the evening previous to those of the seventh division being shot. The sergeants came with the company’s books to settle their accounts; the two Italians were in paroxysms of agony, crying and wringing their hands. The behaviour of the Frenchman, who had been taken prisoner, had volunteered into the Chasseurs Britannique, and afterwards deserted from them to his countrymen, formed a strong contrast to that of the others. Calm and dignified, he seemed to feel no fear of death, nor did any complaint pass his lips, save an occasional exclamation against the injustice of trying him as a deserter, being a Frenchman. In his circumstances, he argued it was natural that he should endeavour to join his friends the first opportunity that offered. When the sergeant was settling their accounts, the Italians paid no attention to anything said to them; but he discussed every item with the greatest exactness, and the sergeant wanting a small coin about the value of a farthing to balance, he desired him to procure it before he would sign the ledger; but though thus exact with the sergeant, the moment he received his balance, which amounted to some dollars, he divided every penny of it amongst his fellow-prisoners. When the Italians received their money, they sent for brandy, and began to drink intemperately, endeavouring to drown their sorrows and sear their minds; but it hadquite a different effect, for they then broke from all restraint in the expression of their feelings, and cried and groaned with agony in such a manner, that they could be heard at a considerable distance from the guard-room. In this state they continued until morning, when they ceased their lamentations, only because nature was exhausted by their former violence. Quite different was the conduct of the Frenchman: when the brandy was procured, the Italians pressed him to take some, but he thanked them, and refused, ‘No,’ said he, throwing a look of mingled pity and contempt on them, ‘I need no brandy to enable me to face death.’ He continued to walk about with his arms folded during the whole evening, without seeming in the least disturbed; occasionally, indeed, his countenance softened, and a tear-drop gathered in his eye, but it was not permitted to linger there; and as if ashamed of showing the least want of firmness, he assumed redoubled inflexibility of countenance.
I could not help admiring his manly fortitude and courage. I had no opportunity of speaking to him, without being intrusive; but in silence I watched the expression of his face, with a feeling I could hardly describe. It was reported that he was a brother of Marshal Soult: the truth of this I cannot pretend to affirm. He was, however, certainly a man of a noble mind and independent spirit. About midnight he lay down and slept soundly until near the hour of execution; his courage seemed to be now even more exalted. He cleaned himself with the greatest nicety, conversed with his fellow-prisoners cheerfully, and endeavoured, although without success, to infuse some courage into the poor Italians. The guard having arrived, he took leave of those prisoners who were confined with him; and to one, with whom he was more familiar than the others, he gave some private injunction, and on parting with him he said emphatically, ‘Remember, I die a Frenchman.’ He marched off to the place of execution with the same collected intrepidity he had before evinced, and I understood afterwards, that his demeanouron the ground where he was shot, was similar to that displayed while a prisoner. All admired his courage, and were sorry for his fate.