The Escalade of the CastleMany of the ladders were too short. In one case a brawny Irish private of herculean strength pulled up first his captain, “clever and clane,” as he said, and then five others.
The Escalade of the CastleMany of the ladders were too short. In one case a brawny Irish private of herculean strength pulled up first his captain, “clever and clane,” as he said, and then five others.
The Escalade of the Castle
Many of the ladders were too short. In one case a brawny Irish private of herculean strength pulled up first his captain, “clever and clane,” as he said, and then five others.
Volley after volley of grape-shot was fired upon ourtroops as they advanced; fire-balls rose, and showed the enemy where they were. They quickened pace and got so close under the wall that the guns could not bear upon them, but the fire-balls burned so vividly that they were enabled to direct their musketry upon the assailants, and hurl with fatal precision every kind of missile.
The ladders were placed, the troops cheered and swarmed up, and nothing was heard but mingled cries of despair and shouts of victory. Several ladders broke down under the weight, and men were precipitated on the heads of their comrades below.
“The ladder I mounted was, like many others, too short, and I found that no exertion I could make would enable me to reach the embrasure or descend. In this desperate state, expecting immediate death from the hands of a ferocious Frenchman in the embrasure, I heard a voice above call out:
“‘Mr. ——, is that you?’
“‘Yes!’ I shouted.
“The same voice cried out: ‘Oh, murther! murther! What will we do to get you up at all, at all, with that scrawdeen of a ladtherr? But here goes! Hould my leg, Pat!’ and, throwing himself flat on his face in the embrasure, he extended his brawny arm down the wall, seized me by the collar with the force of Hercules, and landed me, as he said himself, ‘clever and clane,’ on the ramparts.
“In the same manner five more were landed. Thus did this chivalrous soldier, with noble generosity, prefer saving the lives of six of his comrades at the risk of his own to the rich plunder which everywhere surrounded him. And this was Tully O’Malley, a private in my company, one of the ‘ragged rascals.’ Well, I found myself standing amongst several French soldiers, who were crowding round the gun in the embrasure. One ofthem still held the match lighted in his hand, the blue flame of which gave the bronzed and sullen countenances of these warriors an expression not easily forgotten.
“A Grenadier leaned on the gun and bled profusely from the head; another, who had fallen on his knees when wounded, remained fixed in astonishment and terror. Others, whose muskets lay scattered on the ground, folded their arms in deep despair. The appearance of the whole group, with their huge, bushy moustaches and mouths all blackened with biting the cartridges, presented to the eye of a young soldier a very strange and formidable appearance.
“‘Don’t mind them boys, sorr,’ said Tully. ‘They were all settled jist afore you came up: and, by my soul, good boys they were for a start—fought like raal divils, they did, till Mr. S—— and the Grenadiers came powdering down on them with the war-whoop. Och, my darlint! they were made smiddreens of in a crack, barring that big fellow you see there, with the great black whiskers—see yonder—bleeding in the side, he is, and resting his head on the gun-carriage. Ah! he was the bouldest of them all. He made bloody battle with Jim Reilly; but ’tis short he stood afore our Jim, for he gave him a raal Waterford puck that tumbled him like a ninepin in a minute; and, by my own sowl, a puck of the butt-end of Jim’s piece is no joke, I tell you! He tried it on more heads than one on the hill of Busaco.’
“Away then flew Tully to join his company, forming in double-quick time to oppose the enemy, who were gathering in force at one of the gates of the citadel.”
They had already opened a most galling fire of musketry from this dark gateway, which was warmly returned by our men, who, under Lieutenant Davern, charged up to the massive gate. This, however, the French closed, so little impression was made. At last a number of thelight infantry of the 74th and 85th helped each other to climb up on the archway over the gate, and thence they fired down so unexpectedly that a general panic seized the enemy, and they fled in confusion, followed by many of our men, who now dashed through the gateway.
Here Captain C—— came upon Major Murphy, of the 88th, quite exhausted and unable to move from loss of blood, as he had not been able to bind up his wound. This he did for him, and they moved on. One more bayonet struggle in the castle, and the French again fled, leaving the place literally covered with dead and wounded, several of them being officers, whose long narrow-bladed sabres with brass scabbards instantly changed masters.
One officer who was wounded made several thrusts at the sturdy Ranger who was trying to disarm him, but had awkwardly caught the sharp sword-blade in his hand, and was so angry at being cut that he was preparing to rush upon his antagonist. However, the Frenchman unbuckled his waist-belt and threw away his sword.
But Pat was angry, and was not now satisfied with the sword only, for, perceiving a handsome silver-mounted calabash, or flask, by the officer’s side, he coolly transferred it to his own shoulders, after first taking a copious swill. Then, gravely addressing the wounded man, said, while reloading his piece:
“Now, my tight fellow, ye see what ye lost by your contrariness.”
“Ah! monsieur, je suis grievement blessé: rendez-moi mon calabash, je vous prie.”
“Grieving for your calabash! Is that what you mane?” said Pat. “Why, then, I’ll tell you what, my boy: no man shall say that Pat Donovan ever deprived either friend or foe of his little dhrop of dhrink—so there ’tis for you!”
“Grand merci! grand merci!” murmured the officer.
“Oh, don’t bother about axing mercy from me,” said Pat; “but take my advice and keep roaring out ‘Mercy! mercy!’ to all our fellows as they come up to ye, and, by Gor! they’ll not take the least notice of you.”
“Ah! merci! merci! Mais c’est fait de moi! c’est fait de moi!” repeated the poor wounded young French officer.
Fatal presentiment! One hour afterwards the Irishman returned and found him lying on the same spot; but the gallant fellow was at rest, “where the wicked cease from troubling.”
As we were occupied in disarming and securing the prisoners Captain C—— happened to capture and save the life of the Colonel commanding the artillery in the citadel at the very moment our men were pursuing him at the point of the bayonet.
He threw himself upon the Captain, and finding he understood French, entreated he would save him from our infuriated soldiers; but this he found it extremely difficult to do, as each successive group, on perceiving his large gold epaulettes and orders, evinced a strong anxiety to make further acquaintance with him. Upon one occasion the Captain was obliged to use his sword to protect him from a few of the 60th, who advanced upon him in rather a suspicious and business-like manner.
The poor Colonel was in a state of violent agitation, and kept a firm hold of his protector’s arm through all the changes of the fight, until they met a field-officer of the British artillery, to whom he gave him in charge.
The Frenchman wanted to bring C—— to the bomb-proof, where his baggage was secured, to give him some tokens of his gratitude, and overwhelmed him with thanks; but duty called, and he left him with the field-officer, who, he heard afterwards, reaped a rich reward for his small service.
The first rays of a beautiful morning showed the incredible strength of Badajos, and how dearly the capture of it had cost us. The gallant hearts that beat with devoted bravery the night before now lay in the cold grasp of death. Silence had succeeded to the dreadful din of arms, and rendered more awful the contemplation of this fearful scene of death and suffering and desolation.
A vast number of the enemy lay dead in a heap close by the spot where our men were forming, and while they gazed on these unhappy victims of a fierce and deadly fight, they were not a little astonished to observe a very young French officer who lay amongst them, and whom they thought to be dead also, slowly and cautiously raise himself up; then, after looking about him with a wild stare, he coolly walked over to the other side where the prisoners were standing and delivered himself up!
This wily hero had not been wounded, nor had he received the slightest scratch, but, being more frightened than hurt, he lay concealed in this manner until all fear of danger, as he thought, was over and gone.
It excited a good deal of merriment amongst our men, but the French curled their moustaches, gave him a hearty “Sacre!” and their deep contempt.
“I was on a hill with the medical staff during the night of the assault of Badajos. For two hours we watched the fire, the bursting of shells and hand-grenades. Then the wounded began to arrive, and we were busy.
“Lord Wellington rode up with his staff, and soon after a staff-officer came up at a gallop, shouting, ‘Where is Lord Wellington?’
“‘There, sir.’
“‘My lord, I am come from the breaches. The troopsafter repeated attempts, have failed to enter them. So many officers have fallen that the men, dispersed in the ditch, are without leaders. If your lordship does not at once send a strong reinforcement they must abandon the enterprise. Colonel McLeod, of the 43rd, has been killed in the breach.’
“A light was called for and instantly brought, and Lord Wellington noted the report with a steady hand. His face was pale and expressed great anxiety. In his manner and language he preserved perfect coolness and self-possession. General Hay’s brigade was ordered to advance to the breaches.
“You may think that it was nervous work hearing this.
“Our General had wisely planned two extreme attacks by escalade on the castle by the Third Division and on the south side of the town by the Fifth Division, and on Fort Pardoleros by the Portuguese. It was known that Soult was within a few leagues. Marmont had pushed his advanced Dragoons as far as the bridge of boats at Villa Velha; the river Guadiana was in our rear.
“It was a crisis, and we wondered what thoughts were passing through the mind of our gallant chief as he sat motionless on his horse.
“Presently another staff-officer galloped up, out of breath.
“‘General Picton—has—got possession of—the castle, sir.’
“‘Who brings that intelligence?’ exclaimed Lord Wellington.
“The officer saluted and gave his name.
“‘Are you certain, sir—are you positively certain?’
“‘I entered the castle with the troops. I have only just left it. General Picton in possession. He sent me.’
“‘Picton in possession! With how many men?’
“‘His division.’
“It is impossible to describe to you the change this news produced in the feelings of all around. A great sigh of relief could almost be heard.
“‘Return, sir, and desire General Picton to maintain his position at all hazards.’
“Having dispatched this messenger, Lord Wellington directed a second officer to proceed to the castle to repeat his orders to General Picton.
“Next morning at dawn I set out to visit the breaches. I was just thinking of two friends, Major Singer and Captain Cholwick, of the Royal Fusiliers, both of whom had been with me two evenings before. I was wondering how they had fared in the assault when I met some Fusiliers and asked for Major Singer.
“‘We are throwing the last shovels of earth upon his grave, sir.’
“‘Is Captain Cholwick safe?’ I inquired.
“‘In the act of climbing over that palisade he was wounded, fell into the water, and we have seen nothing of him since.’
“That did not make me disposed to be very cheerful.
“I found the great breach covered with dead from its base to its summit. Many were stripped. Amongst them I recognized the faces of many well known to me. In climbing up the breach my feet receded at every step in the débris, so as to make my progress slow and difficult. Behind the chevaux-de-frise a broad and deep trench had been cut, into which our men must have been precipitated had they succeeded in surmounting this huge barrier. Above was a battery of 12-pounders completely enfilading the great and the small breach, near to each other. No wonder we failed there to enter.
“I next visited the castle, at the bottom of whose walls, nearly 40 feet high, were lying shattered ladders, broken muskets, exploded shells, and the dead bodies ofmany of our brave men. Amongst the dead I recognized the body of the gallant Major Ridge, of the 5th Regiment, lying near the gate that leads to the town, in forcing which he had fallen, riddled with balls.
“I met a soldier of the Connaught Rangers, overpowered by excitement and brandy. The fellow looked at me suspiciously, and appeared disposed to dispute my passage. He held his loaded musket at half present, and I was prepared to close with him; but fortunately flattery succeeded. He allowed me to pass.
“Soon after entering the town a girl about nine years of age implored my protection, ‘por el amor de Dios,’ for her mother.
“A number of soldiers of a distinguished regiment were in the house, armed, and under the influence of every evil passion. Alas! I was powerless. I met a man of the 88th dragging a peasant by the neck, with the intention of putting him to death—so he declared—in atonement for his not having any money in his pockets! I appealed to the gallantry of his corps, and saved the life of his victim.”
The town had now become a scene of plunder and devastation. Our soldiers and our women, in a state of intoxication, had lost all control over themselves. These, together with numbers of Spaniards and Portuguese, who had come into the city in search of plunder, filled every street. Many were dispossessed of their booty by others, and these interchanges of plunder in many cases were not effected without bloodshed. Our soldiers had taken possession of the shops, stationed themselves behind the counters, and were selling the goods contained in them. These were, again, displaced by more numerous parties, who became shopkeepers in their turn, and thus continual scuffling and bloodshed was going on.
In addition to the incessant firing through the keyholes of the front doors of houses as the readiest way offorcing the locks, a desultory and wanton discharge of musketry was kept up in the streets, placing all who passed literally between cross-fires. Many of our own people were thus killed or wounded by their own comrades.
An attempt was made next day to collect our soldiers. The troops, however, that were sent into the town for that purpose joined in the work of plunder.
We may feel shocked at the excesses which our soldiers committed after the storming of such towns as Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos. Folk sitting by their quiet firesides may wonder how sane men can be so dead to the higher and better feelings of humanity; but when the fever of war is followed by the poison of drink, it is no wonder if the minds of rude men are thrown off their balance. War is a most awful thing to witness, and many officers have declared to the writer that, had they known what war meant in all its dreadful reality, they would not have been so eager in their youth to join the army. All the more reason is there that every youth in our islands should be compelled by law to learn the use of the rifle, that when the time comes—as come it will—when an invader shall set foot upon our shore, we may not be helpless and unarmed. Perhaps it is necessary that we should sometimes hear the horrid truth about war; we may thus be stimulated to use a little self-denial for our country’s security, when we realize that life is not made up of games and money-making, and when we can see what our fatherland would be to us, devastated by a savage enemy, with farms and barns blazing, women and children starved to death, towns sacked and plundered, and the honour of old England trodden beneath the foot of a foreign invader. The story of these sieges has many lessons—military, ethical, and economic. Let us at least learn one—the duty that is incumbent upon all of us, men and boys, to defend mother and wife and child.
Thecoup de grâce—The hospital—A cruel order—An attempt at escape—Removed to the castle—The English at the breach—Many are wounded—French ladies sleep in the open—A vertical fire—English gunners shoot too well—A good sabre lightly won.
Colonel Harvey Jones, R.E., has left us an interesting account of the siege of St. Sebastian by the British forces. The town, situated close to the French frontier, just south of the Pyrenees and by the sea, contains 10,000 inhabitants, and is built on a low peninsula running north and south. The defences of the western side are washed by the sea, those on the eastern side by the river Urumea, which at high-water covers 4 feet of the masonry of the scarp. The first assault in July failed. Colonel Jones was wounded and taken prisoner.
His diary begins: “After witnessing the unsuccessful attempts of Lieutenant Campbell, 9th Regiment, and his gallant little band to force their way on to the ramparts, and their retreat from the breach, my attention was soon aroused by a cry from the soldier who was lying disabled next to me:
“‘Oh, they are murdering us all!’
“Looking up, I perceived a number of French Grenadiers, under a heavy fire of grape, sword in hand, stepping over the dead and stabbing the wounded. My companionwas treated in the same manner. The sword, plucked from his body and reeking with his blood, was raised to give me thecoup de grâce, when, fortunately, the uplifted arm was arrested by a smart little man—a sergeant—who cried out:
“‘Oh, mon Colonel, êtes-vous blessé?’ and he ordered some men to remove me.”
They raised the Colonel in their arms and carried him up the breach on to the ramparts. Here they were stopped by a Captain of the Grenadiers, who asked some questions, then kissed him, and desired the party to proceed to the hospital.
They met the Governor and his staff on the way, who asked if the Colonel was badly wounded, and directed that proper care should be taken of him.
After descending from the rampart into the town, as they were going along the street leading to the hospital, they were accosted by an officer who had evidently taken his “drop.” He demanded the Englishman’s sword, which was still hanging by his side.
The reply came: “You have the power to take it, but certainly have no right to do so, as I have not been made a prisoner by you.”
This seemed to enrage him, and with great violence of manner and gesture he unbuckled the belt and carried away the sword.
Upon reaching the hospital, the Surgeon-Major was very kind in his manner. After he had enlarged the wounds, according to the French system, and then dressed them, the Colonel was carried across the street and put into a bed in one of the wards of the great hospital, which a soldier was ordered to vacate for his use. This man returned later in the day for his pipe and tobacco, which he had left under the pillow.
In the course of the morning they were visited by theGovernor, who made inquiries as to their wounds, and whether they had been plundered of anything; for a great number of English soldiers had been taken, and were lodged in the town prison. The only persons permitted to visit them were some staff-officers, a few Spanish ladies, and a Spanish barber. From the former the Colonel was made acquainted with all that passed in the British lines—at least, as far as the French could conjecture. Although boats arrived nightly from Bayonne, the other side of the frontier, bringing shells, medicine, charpie, or lint, engineers, etc., the garrison remained in great ignorance of the movements of the two armies. Soult kept sending word that he would soon come and raise the siege; thus, by promises of immediate relief, he kept up the spirits of the garrison. He also rewarded the gallantry of particular defenders during the assault and in the sorties by promotion, or by sending them the decoration of the Legion of Honour. In the French Army there seemed to have been a system of reward for good and gallant conduct by promotion into the Grenadiers or Voltigeurs, which had an excellent effect. A French soldier was extremely proud of his green, yellow, or red epaulettes. They were badges of distinguished conduct and only those who had shown great gallantry in action were admitted into their ranks. What with the success attendant upon the sorties and the numerous decorations which had been distributed among the officers and privates, such a spirit of daring had been created that the idea of a surrender was scouted by all.
After the stones had been extracted which had been blown into his leg and thighs by the bursting of shells and grenades, the Colonel was enabled to move about and get into the gallery running round the courtyard of the hospital, and into which all the doors and windowsof the rooms respectively opened. It was the only place where they were allowed to breathe the fresh air.
One day, whilst sitting in the gallery, he observed a table placed in the balcony below him, on the other side of the courtyard. Soon he saw an unfortunate French gunner laid upon the table. They amputated both his arms, his hands having been blown off by an accident in one of the batteries. In the course of the morning, whilst conversing with the surgeon who had performed the operation, he told the Colonel that he had acted contrary to his instructions, which were never to amputate, but to cure if possible. When he was asked for the reason of such an inhuman order having been issued, his reply was that the Emperor Napoleon did not wish numbers of mutilated men to be sent back to France, as it would make a bad impression upon the people.
“You must be a bold man to act in opposition to this order.”
He replied: “Affairs are beginning to change, and, moreover, it is now necessary that the soldiers should know they will be taken proper care of in the event of being wounded, and not left to die like dogs. We send as many as we can at night to Bayonne by the boats; thus we clear out the hospitals a little.”
In conversations with many of the officers they detailed acts committed by their soldiers in Spain so revolting to human nature that one refuses to commit them to paper. Achef de bataillononce asked him how the English managed with their soldiers when they wanted them to advance and attack an enemy.
The reply was simply, “Forward!”
“Ah! that way will not do with us. We are obliged to excite our men with spirits, or to work upon their feelings by some animating address; and very often, when I have fancied I had brought them up to the fightingpitch, some old hand would make a remark which in an instant spoilt all I had said, and I had to begin my speech all over again.”
The Colonel asked how they managed to provision their men when they went out on expeditions that lasted ten or twenty days.
The answer was: “Our biscuits are made with a hole in the centre. Each biscuit is the ration for a day. Sometimes twenty are delivered to each soldier, who is given to understand that he has no further claim on the commisariat for those days.”
“But it is impossible for the soldier to carry twenty.”
“We know that very well, but he has no claim; and how he lives in the meanwhile we do not ask. Perhaps he lives on the country.” In other words, he steals!
In the hospital he was attended by a Spanish barber. As he could speak Spanish fluently, they had a good deal of talk. The barber used to tell all he heard and saw of what was passing both inside and outside the fortress. When he learnt that the Colonel was an engineer, he offered to bring him a plan of all the underground drains and of the aqueduct.
The attendant, although a good-natured man, kept a sharp eye on the barber; so it was a difficult matter for him to give anything without being detected.
At last, one morning when preparing to shave him, he succeeded in shoving a plan under the bedclothes. The Colonel seized the earliest opportunity of examining it, and from the knowledge he had before acquired of the place he soon mastered the directions of the drains, etc. From that moment his whole attention was fixed on the means of making his escape.
He knew that the hospital was situated in the principal street, the ends of which terminated upon the fortifications bounding the harbour. If once he could gain thestreet he had only to turn to the right or left to gain the ramparts, and so make his escape from the town in the best manner he could.
One evening just at dusk, when the medical men took leave of them for the night, one of them left his cocked hat on the bed. As soon as the Colonel noticed this he put it on his head, hurried downstairs, and made direct for the great door; but he found it so completely blocked up by the guard that, unless by pushing them aside, it was not possible to pass undiscovered. He therefore retreated upstairs in despair, and threw the hat down on the bed. Scarcely had he done so when in rushed the doctor, asking for hischapeau.
They were more than once visited by the crews of the boats which arrived nightly from France. The sight of the prisoners seemed to afford the Frenchmen great gratification, but there was nothing in their manner which could in any way offend.
Very unexpectedly one evening the Governor’s aide-de-camp came to the prison and told the officers to prepare immediately to go to France.
A Portuguese Captain, one of the party of prisoners, was dreadfully in fear of being sent there, and with great warmth of manner told the aide-de-camp that Lord Wellington would soon be in possession of the place, and if the prisoners were not forthcoming he would hold the Governor answerable in person.
It is supposed that the aide went and reported this conversation to the Governor, as he did not return for some time, and then told them it was too late to embark that night, as the boats had sailed. They were never afterwards threatened to be sent away.
About the middle of August the garrison began to flatter themselves that the siege was turned into a regular blockade, and that they would be relieved by the successes of Marshal Soult. Their spirits ran high, their hopes were elated.
The 15th of August, the birthday of Napoleon, was observed as a day of rejoicing among the garrison, and at nightfall the letter “N” of a very large size was brilliantly lighted up on the face of the donjon.
When the operations of the second siege began a Captain who visited the Colonel kept himau faitof all that was going on. One day a Spanish Captain who had sided with the French came into the hospital—it was on the evening of the assault. He was wringing his hands, tearing his hair, and swearing he had heard the shrieks of his wife and daughters, and had seen his house in flames. The French officers took the poor man’s outcries with great merriment, and the Spaniard must have bitterly regretted the day when he deserted the English. The French officers did not fail to taunt him with having done so, and ridiculed his frantic actions.
In the course of the next day Colonel Jones was asked if he would like to speak with a corporal of sappers who had been made prisoner during the sortie.
To his surprise, a fine, tall youngster, a stranger to him, walked into the ward, dressed in a red jacket. Now, blue was the colour when the Colonel was taken prisoner.
“When did you join the army, corporal?” he asked.
“Yesterday morning, Colonel. I was put on duty in the trenches last night, and in a few minutes I was brought into the town by the enemy.”
“I could not help laughing, though he wore a rueful expression,” says the Colonel.
One morning a Captain of artillery, whom he had never before seen, came into the ward and commenced conversing about the siege. He observed that the whole second parallel of the British trenches was one entirebattery, and if there were as many guns as there were embrasures, he said, “we shall bejoliment fouettés.”
The Colonel’s reply was: “Most assuredly you will. Depend upon it, there are as many guns as embrasures. It is not our fashion to make batteries and stick logs of wood into the embrasures in the hope of frightening the enemy.”
He made a grimace, and with a shrug of the shoulders left the ward.
Next morning the surgeon came, as usual, to dress the wounds. This was about half-past seven. All was still, and he joyously exclaimed, as he entered:
“So, gentlemen, we have another day’s reprieve!”
In about half an hour afterwards, whilst Colonel Jones was under his hands, the first salvo from the breaching batteries was fired. Several shot rattled through the hospital and disturbed the tranquillity of the inmates. The instrument dropped from the surgeon’s hands, and he exclaimed, “Le jeu sera bientôt fini!” Then very composedly the good doctor went on with his work.
The opening of the batteries made a great stir amongst all hands. A hint was given the prisoners to prepare to be removed into the castle. A private hint was given to the Colonel to besageon the way up, as the Captain of the escort wasméchant, and that it would be better to be quiet and orderly.
This, perhaps, was intended to deter any of them from attempting to escape. The wounded prisoners were moved in one body up the face of the hill to the entrance of the castle. Under the Mirador battery they were exposed to a sharp musketry fire. Some of the party were wounded, the Portuguese Captain severely.
A building on the sea-side, which had been constructed for a powder magazine, was now converted into their hospital, the interior being fitted up with wooden beds.In the area surrounding the building were placed the unwounded prisoners. As the number of wounded from the ramparts increased, the hospital filled rapidly, and to prevent the fire from the English batteries being directed upon them some of the prisoners were desired to hoist a black flag on the roof. While they were doing so the Colonel told the French officer that it was labour in vain, as the British had learnt that this building was their great depot for powder, and so hoisting a flag would be regarded as a ruse to preserve their ammunition. Little benefit did they get from the ensign. After the capture of the island Santa Clara, hardly could anyone move about that part of the castle opposite to the island without the risk of being hit. Grape and shrapnel swept the whole of the face, and it was only at night that fresh water could be fetched from the tank.
The garrison had a fixed idea that the assault would take place at night, so each morning they rose with happy faces—another twenty-four hours’ reprieve!
On the 31st of August, when the first rattle of musketry was heard in the castle, an inquiring look pervaded each countenance; but no one spoke. As the firing continued and the rattle grew and grew, little doubt remained as to the cause. Every soldier seized his musket and hurried with haste to his post. The Colonel was then ordered not to speak or hold converse with the unwounded prisoners outside. One French officer asked him if he thought that the English prisoners would remain quiet if an assault of the breach should take place, adding, “If they were to make any attempt they would all be shot.”
Colonel Jones replied: “Do not fancy you have a flock of sheep penned within these walls. Happen what may, shoot us or not, you will be required to give a satisfactory account of us when the castle is taken.”
From the commencement of the assault until the rushinto the castle upon the capture of the town, not the slightest information could they obtain as to the state of affairs at the breach. The period that intervened was to the prisoners one of the most anxious and painful suspense. At last the tale was told by the awful spectacle of the interior of the hospital.
In an instant the ward was crowded with the maimed and wounded. The amputation-table was in full play, and until nearly daylight the following morning the surgeons were unceasingly at work.
To have such a scene passing at the foot of one’s bed was painful enough. Added to this the agonizing shrieks and groans and the appearance of the sappers and Grenadiers who had been blown up by the explosion in the breach, their uniforms nearly burnt off, and their skins blackened and scorched by gunpowder—all this was truly appalling. The appearance of these men resembled anything but human beings. Death soon put an end to their sufferings, and relieved all from these most distressing sights. Of all wounds, whether of fractured limbs or otherwise, those caused by burns from gunpowder seemed to produce the most excruciating pain.
In the rear of the donjon was a small building, in which was stored much gunpowder. Shells were falling fast and thick around it, so a detachment of soldiers was sent to withdraw the ammunition. This dangerous service they were performing in a most gallant manner, and had nearly completed their work, when some shells fell into the building, exploded the barrels that remained, and blew the building, with some of the soldiers, into the air, not leaving a vestige to show that such an edifice had stood there.
There were three French ladies in the garrison. They were on their way to France when the investment took place. These ladies were permitted to enter the hospital, and were allowed a small space at one end of the wooden bedsteads. There they were for several days and nights. The only water they could obtain to wash in was sea-water. As the number of the wounded increased, some of the officers who were lying upon the floor were loud in their complaints that madame and her daughters were occupying the space which properly belonged to them. They succeeded in getting the ladies turned out, to find shelter from shot and shell where best they could!
The day the castle capitulated Colonel Jones went in search of his fair companions, and found them, nearly smoke-dried, under a small projecting rock.
One of the young ladies was extremely pretty. Shortly after the siege she was married to the English Commissary appointed to attend upon the garrison until sent to England. The change from the hospital to the naked rock relieved them from witnessing many a painful scene, as the amputating-table was placed near their end of the ward.
After the capture of the town a heavy bombardment of the castle took place, by salvos of shells from more than sixty pieces of artillery. There were only a few seconds between the noise made by the discharge of the mortars and the descent of the shells. Those of the mutilated who were fortunate enough to snatch a little sleep and so forget their sufferings were awakened by the crash of ten or a dozen shells falling upon or in the building, whose fuses threw a lurid light through the gloom. The silence within, unbroken save by the hissing of the burning composition, the agonized feelings of the wounded during those few moments of suspense, are not to be described. Many an unlucky soldier was brought to the table to undergo a second operation. The wretched surgeons were engaged nearly the entire night. Restwas impossible. You could not choose but hear. The legs and arms were thrown out as soon as amputated, and fell on the rooks.
It was not an agreeable sight. Those who vote for war do not realize these little details in the programme. War, they say, breeds heroes.
It is but justice to the French medical officers to state that their conduct during the whole period of their harassing and laborious duties was marked by the greatest feeling and kindness of manner, as well as by skilful attention to the relief of all who came under their hands.
The unfortunate prisoners who were not wounded had been placed in the area round the hospital, and being without cover, suffered at every discharge.
The Colonel exerted himself to obtain a few pickaxes and shovels to throw up some sort of splinter-proof, but it was in vain he pleaded, and in the end fifty were killed or wounded out of 150.
From the surgeons and hospital attendants they experienced great kindness. Their diet was the same as that of the French wounded soldiers. Their greatest luxury was three stewed prunes!
The effects of the vertical fire on the interior of the castle were so destructive that, had it been continued six hours longer, the garrison would have doubtless surrendered at discretion. They had lost all hope that Soult could relieve them.
Everybody now sought shelter where best he could among the rocks. Still, no nook or corner appeared to be a protection from the shrapnel shells.
A sergeant of the Royals, standing at the foot of a bedstead, was struck by a ball from a shrapnel shell, and fell dead while talking. An Italian soldier, while trying to prepare some broth for dinner, was blown into the air—soup, bowl, and all!
The excellence of the British artillery is well known. Nothing could surpass the precision with which the shells were thrown or the accuracy with which the fuses were cut. During the siege our men in the British trenches little heeded the lazy French shells which were thrown into our batteries. From the length of the fuses sufficient time was often allowed before they burst to put themselves under cover; and when they did burst, the splinters flew lazily around. But when the sound of an English shell was heard in the castle, or when the men stationed in the donjon cried, “Garde la bombe!” everybody was on the alert. Touching the ground and bursting were almost simultaneous, and the havoc from the splinters was terrible. It appeared to be of little avail where a man hid himself: no place was secure from them.
A French officer of Engineers, who was very badly wounded, kindly lent the Colonel some of the professional books which were supplied to him. Many were works which he had never been able to procure. Much pleasure and instruction did he derive from their perusal. He found out that the French Engineers were supplied with them by the Government, and their Generals also with the best maps of the country.
One day the Colonel was called to the door of the ward by a French officer, who exclaimed, as he pointed to a large convoy of English transports coming in under full sail: “Voilà les fiacres qui viennent nous chercher!” (“There are the cabs coming to fetch us.”) It was a most cheering and beautiful sight—the cabs that were sent to fetch us home!
When Colonel Jones was told, shortly after, that he was no longer a prisoner, he began to look round for the best sword in the castle to replace the one which that rude French Captain had taken from him.
He discovered a handsome sabre belonging to a woundedstaff-officer, so he sent and desired that it might be taken down from the place where it was hanging, as he wanted such a weapon.
“I have it still by me. It was the only sword I wore until the end of the war, and often, when at the outposts with a flag of truce, have I seen the French officers regard the eagles on the belt with anything but a gratified look.
“In 1815 I was quartered at Paris, being engineer in charge of the fortifications on Mont-Martre. There I frequently saw several of the St. Sebastian officers, and from my old friend the Chirurgien-Major I received many visits.
“We both agreed that, though the tables were turned, our present position was far more agreeable than when our acquaintance began in St. Sebastian.”
From Muswell’s “Peninsular Sketches.” Henry Colburn, publisher.
Position of the town—Sale’s brigade rebuilds the defences—A sortie—Bad news—A queer noise—A ruse that did not succeed—The only survivor comes in—Story of a massacre—The earthquake—The walls are down—Are rebuilt—English magic—Pollock comes—Fight outside—The peril of Lady Sale.
In November, 1841, the English Resident at the Afghan Court of Cabul was treacherously assassinated. General Elphinstone, who was left in command of the English troops, being in feeble health, attempted to leave the country with his 4,500 troops and three times that number of camp followers. On the 11th of March, 1842, Akbar Khan with a large army attacked General Sale at Jellalabad.
Jellalabad is a walled town on the right bank of the Cabul River. The upper end of the valley is very fertile and picturesque, studded with forts and villages, but all round the city it is sandy and arid. Snow mountains close in the valley on all sides.
South of Jellalabad, at a distance of 1,200 yards, is a low range of limestone hills, and on the south-west other low hills command the town at 200 yards’ distance. All round the walls were houses, mosques, old forts, gardens, and trees—in fact, every species of cover that an enemy could desire.
The walls of the town were 2,100 yards in extent, all in ruinous condition, and in many places not more than 9 feet high, and easily scaled. Through breaches in the wall laden cattle and droves of asses went in and out daily.
Into this town on the evening of the 12th of November, 1841, wearied, footsore, hungry, short of ammunition, Sale’s brigade entered, to undertake the desperate task of defending it against the whole power of the country, the people of which not only hated us as invaders, but regarded us as infidels to be rooted out.
At a distance of 600 miles from our own frontier, with the formidable defiles of the Khyber Pass to cross, what would be our condition if Runjeet Sing should refuse to allow another army to traverse his territories?
In the meantime these ruinous walls were better than the open plain; so, after viewing the fortifications, Sale marched the brigade in, and the inhabitants fled out at the other side as we entered.
It was decided to hold the whole town and try to make it defensible. Our supply of provisions was so low that the troops had to be put on half, and the camp followers on quarter, rations. As to ammunition, we had only 120 rounds per man. We set to work and collected grain, flour, pulse, and food of all sorts which had been left behind, and in a few hours supplies for several days had been gathered in.
As parts of the walls had no parapets and the sentries were quite exposed, hundreds of camel saddles were ranged, two deep and two high, for the sentries to kneel behind.
The next day many thousands of the enemy came swarming round and set fire to the grass huts and sheds on the eastern side. Some of them seemed to be bent on getting into a small mosque near the town, so a party ofsappers, under Major Broadfoot, were sent to see what it contained.
They discovered a quantity of carbine ammunition, which proved to our men a timely and welcome supply. From dusk till midnight they kept firing on our sentries with wild yells. Then they withdrew, and the troops could snatch some rest.
At early dawn Sale determined on a sortie, and all were aroused without sound of bugle. Seven hundred infantry and two guns, commanded by Colonel Monteath, were ordered to sally out at sunrise and attack the Afghans. There were some 6,000 Afghans waiting to meet them in the rocky hills at the south-west angle of the city, but they did not resist long, and the cavalry rolled them over and pursued the fugitives, while Abbot’s guns ploughed through them wherever they massed together.
By ten o’clock it was all over. The panic was so great that they deserted the forts, and we secured all the grain and fodder.
Two great results followed this fortunate victory: it gave the garrison a little breathing-time, and we had a few days of uninterrupted quiet to repair our walls and destroy cover.
The people of the valley now adopted the usual Oriental policy of trying to keep well with both parties, and sent in donkey-loads of flour, wheat, etc.
Working parties were told off to clear away the rubbish, to destroy houses outside, and to build parapets on the walls; for with the enemy’s marksmen so near, no one could look over the walls or show a cap without getting a shot through it.
“Jellalabad” means “the abode of splendour,” but our men found it squalid and mean. There were two main streets, crossing each other at right angles; the rest were narrow, filthy lanes. The mountain tribes havefair complexions and the Grecian type of face. They are believed to be the descendants of the Greeks left by Alexander the Great. All their implements and household utensils are totally different from those used by the Afghans.
As soon as the enemy was driven off by our sortie the troops set to work on the defences. No one was allowed to be idle. Officers and men, with spade, pickaxe, bill-hook, or mining tools in hand—all were at work from daybreak to sunset.
Parties of the enemy hovered about, but never dared to molest us. Strong detachments of cavalry were sent out every day to protect our grass-cutters.
On the 21st of November the garrison received bad news. The little fort of Pesh Bolak (half-way between Jellalabad and the Khyber) had had to be evacuated, and Captain Ferris had been seen going over the mountains away to Peshawar in hasty retreat.
Then from Cabul they heard that our troops there were shut up by the insurgents in their fortified cantonment, that there was a general rising of the whole country, and the roads were closed against messengers.
Every night now parties of the enemy used to creep round and fire at our sentries. At twelve o’clock on the night of the 28th there was a tremendous report, like the firing of a heavy gun. The alarm was sounded, and in two minutes every man was at his post. Seaton was Captain of the day, so he hurried off to learn what all the row was about. He found Sale and his staff in the west gate, looking earnestly in the direction of the enemy, and discussing with the heroic Havelock the probabilities of an attack. It was a bright moonlight night; everything visible near or far. All at once some one called out:
“Here they come, sir! Don’t you see those two dark columns of men 500 yards off?”
Ah! yes. Every one saw them clearly enough.
“I looked a little, and then laughed right out. The General called to me in his short, sharp way:
“‘Seaton, what is it, sir?’
“‘General, where is the back wall of the old fort?’
“‘Eh! eh! what! what!’ said he testily.
“‘Why, General, you sent me out yesterday to destroy the back wall of that old fort behind which the enemy used to muster. The clay was too hard for us, so, as the wall was just over a sunk road, and the bank below the wall soft, I threw a dam across the lower part of the road and turned in yon little stream. I guess it has softened the bank, and the wall has fallen with a slap into the water and produced the explosion. The columns of men are only the shadows of the north and south walls.’ So we all had a hearty laugh.”
Seaton was on guard every third day. Though the duty was hard, it was comparatively a day of rest. During the night officers visited the guards and sentries every two hours, and made the sentries report everything they had seen or heard. They patrolled the streets, too, every two hours, and the picket in the centre of the town sent patrols to each gate every hour during the night. Every day, when not on special duty, he went out with a large working party to destroy the old walls and houses outside the town, to fell and cut up the trees, and to bring them in for firewood.
The enemy had some capital marksmen, and several of our men were shot through the loopholes. Sale now thought it time to put a stop to this, for they cut off our supplies and we had only thirty days’ food in store. So he quietly waited until noon, when the enemy would be thinking more of food than fighting, and a column of 1,100 infantry was formed in the west street. All the cavalry that could be mustered, with two of Abbott’s guns,assembled in the south street. They had a tough job at first. The Afghans stood bravely and poured in a heavy fire; but the moment the cavalry and guns appeared on the plain clear of Piper’s Hill the whole body of the enemy fled in every direction. Many were drowned in the river.
During the pursuit Captain Oldfield, who commanded the cavalry, as he galloped up to a party of the fugitives, saw one man suddenly stop, throw off his turban, tear off his clothes, wrap his waist-cloth round his loins and attempt to personate a Hindoo, calling out, “Shah bash, Angrèz!” (“Well done, English!”). But our troopers were not to be deceived: the Hindoo gentleman was instantly cut down.
Doubtless if the Afghans had possessed the needful tools they might have succeeded in their plan of cooping us in and starving us out.
It was to Major Broadfoot’s firmness and foresight that the brigade was mainly indebted for its honour and safety. When they were first sent out, Broadfoot was ordered to proceed without his tools. This he respectfully but firmly declined to do, and by his manly representations he carried his point, and was allowed to take them.
They returned at dusk, very hungry and tired. Our loss had been small, our gain great, and a further result was that provisions at once began to flow in. People flocked to the gates to sell flour, grain, and vegetables. But the officers were all so poor that very few of them could purchase anything. The soldiers and camp-followers were still worse off. The commissariat officer had now six weeks’ food in store, but would the treasure-chest hold out? Copper coinage had nearly disappeared.
The New Year, 1842, opened ominously, and brought more evil tidings. A letter from Cabul, from Pottinger, told them of the murder of the Envoy, that Ghusnee was besieged, and the whole country in insurrection.
But our garrison was not dismayed. All scouted the idea of any great disaster happening to our troops at Cabul, and our works were pushed on with increased vigour. Provisions kept coming in, and the surplus was carefully stored.
On the 9th of January a letter from General Elphinstone was brought in by a horseman, ordering Sale to retire with his brigade to Peshawar.
It was a crushing, humiliating blow, spreading a gloom over every heart; but when Sale’s determination was made known—to hold Jellalabad until the Cabul force arrived—the men’s confidence in their commander was greater than ever.
The greatest harmony existed between the European and native soldiers, and there was but one mind in the garrison—to defy the Afghans and to redeem as far as possible the reverses of the Cabul force. They had no money, they were short of ammunition, and had not too much food; but there was no thought of giving way.
On the 13th of January Seaton was on guard at the south gate when, a little after twelve o’clock, some one came rushing along the passage leading to the guardroom. The door was burst open, and Lieutenant B—— threw himself into Seaton’s arms, exclaiming:
“My God, Seaton! the whole of the Cabul army has been destroyed!”
“What! man, are you mad? The whole army?”
“All but one—Dr. Brydon! We saw from the top of the gateway a man riding on an old pony. He seemed to be wounded; he was bending over the pommel. We sent two horsemen out to bring him in—it was Dr. Brydon. He could not speak at first. Then he murmured: ‘The only survivor of Cabul army!—all killed.’”