Embarkation for Portugal--Aldermanic fare--Lord Hill over his wine,
and in the field--Use of a dead Rifleman--Wounded wine-butts.
I wish I could picture the splendid sight of the shipping in the Downs,
at the time we embarked with about 20,000 men. Those were times which
the soldiers of our own more peaceable days have little conception of.
At Cork, where our ships cast anchor, we lay for something like six
weeks, during which time the expedition was not disembarked, with the
exception of our four companies of Rifles, who were every day landed
for the purpose of drill. On such occasions our merry bugles sounded
over the country, and we were skirmished about in very lively fashion,
always being embarked again at night.
At the expiration of the time I have mentioned, our sails were given to
the wind, and amidst the cheers of our comrades, we sailed majestically
out of the Cove of Cork for the hostile shore, where we arrived safely,
and disembarked at Mondego Bay.
The Rifles were the first out of the vessels, for we were, indeed,
always in the front in advance, and in rear in the retreat. Like the
Kentish men of old, we claimed the post of honour in the field.
Being immediately pushed forwards up the country in advance of the main
body, many of us, in this hot climate, very soon began to find out the
misery of the frightful load we were condemned to march and fight
under, with a burning sun above our heads, and our feet sinking every
step into the hot sand.
The weight I myself toiled under was tremendous, and I often wonder at
the strength I possessed at this period, which enabled me to endure
it; for, indeed, I am convinced that many of our infantry sank and
died under the weight of their knapsacks alone. For my own part, being
a handicraft, I marched under a weight sufficient to impede the free
motions of a donkey; for besides my well-filled kit, there was the
great-coat rolled on its top, my blanket and camp kettle, my haversack,
stuffed full of leather for repairing the men's shoes, together with
a hammer and other tools (the lapstone I took the liberty of flinging
to the devil), ship-biscuit and beef for three days. I also carried my
canteen filled with water, my hatchet and rifle, and eighty rounds of
ball cartridge in my pouch; this last, except the beef and biscuit,
being the best thing I owned, and which I always gave the enemy the
benefit of, when opportunity offered.
Altogether the quantity of things I had on my shoulders was enough and
more than enough for my wants, sufficient, indeed, to sink a little
fellow of five feet seven inches into the earth. Nay, so awkwardly was
the load our men bore in those days, placed upon their backs, that the
free motion of the body was impeded, the head held down from the pile
at the back of the neck, and the soldier half beaten before he came to
the scratch.
We marched till it was nearly dark, and then halted for the night. I
myself was immediately posted sentinel between two hedges, and in a
short time General Fane came up, and himself cautioned me to be alert.
"Remember, sentinel," he said, "that we are now near an active enemy;
therefore be careful here, and mind what you are about."
Next day the peasantry sent into our camp a great quantity of the
good things of their country, so that our men regaled themselves
upon oranges, grapes, melons, and figs, and we had an abundance of
delicacies which many of us had never before tasted. Amongst other
presents, a live calf was presented to the Rifles, so that altogether
we feasted in our first entrance into Portugal like a company of
aldermen.
The next day we again advanced, and being in a state of the utmost
anxiety to come up with the French, neither the heat of the burning
sun, long miles, or heavy knapsacks were able to diminish our ardour.
Indeed, I often look back with wonder at the light-hearted style, the
jollity, and reckless indifference with which men who were destined
in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of strife;
seemingly without a thought of anything but the sheer love of meeting
the foe and the excitement of the battle.
It was five or six days before the battle of Roliça, the army was on
the march, and we were pushing on pretty fast. The whole force had
slept the night before in the open fields; indeed, as far as I know,
(for the Rifles were always in the front at this time,) they had
been for many days without any covering but the sky. We were pelting
along through the streets of a village, the name of which I do not
think I ever knew, so I cannot name it; I was in the front, and had
just cleared the village, when I recollect observing General Hill
(afterwards Lord Hill) and another officer ride up to a house, and give
their horses to some of the soldiery to hold. Our bugles at that moment
sounded the halt, and I stood leaning upon my rifle near the door of
the mansion which General Hill had entered: there was a little garden
before the house, and I stood by the gate. Whilst I remained there,
the officer who had entered with General Hill came to the door, and
called to me. "Rifleman," said he, "come here." I entered the gate,
and approached him. "Go," he continued, handing me a dollar, "and try
if you can get some wine; for we are devilish thirsty here." Taking
the dollar, I made my way back to the village. At a wine-house, where
the men were crowding around the door, and clamouring for drink, (for
the day was intensely hot,) I succeeded, after some little difficulty,
in getting a small pipkin full of wine; but the crowd was so great,
that I found as much trouble in paying for it as in getting it; so I
returned back as fast as I was able, fearing that the general would
be impatient, and move off before I reached him. I remember Lord Hill
was loosening his sword-belt as I handed him the wine. "Drink first,
Rifleman," said he; and I took a good pull at the pipkin, and held it
to him again. He looked at it as I did so, and told me I might drink
it all up, for it appeared greasy; so I swallowed the remainder, and
handed him back the dollar which I had received from the officer. "Keep
the money," he said, "my man. Go back to the village once more, and
try if you cannot get me another draught." Saying this, he handed me
a second dollar, and told me to be quick. I made my way back to the
village, got another pipkin full, and returned as fast as I could.
The general was pleased with my promptness, and drank with great
satisfaction, handing the remainder to the officer who attended him;
and I dare say, if he ever recollected the circumstance afterwards,
that was as sweet a draught, after the toil of the morning march, as he
has drank at many a nobleman's board in old England since.
I remember remarking Lord Hill, for the second time in my life, under
circumstances which (from their not being of every-day occurrence)
fixed it upon my mind. The 29th regiment received so terrible a fire,
that I saw the right wing almost annihilated, and the colonel (I think
his name was Lennox) lay sprawling amongst the rest. We had ourselves
caught it pretty handsomely; for there was no cover for us, and we
were rather too near. The living skirmishers were lying beside heaps
of their own dead; but still we had held our own till the battalion
regiments came up. "Fire and retire"[1] is a very good sound; but
the Rifles were not over fond of such notes. We never performed that
manoeuvre, except when it was made pretty plain to us that it was quite
necessary; the 29th, however, had got their fairing here at this time;
and the shock of that fire seemed to stagger the whole line, and make
them recoil. At the moment, a little confusion appeared in the ranks,
I thought. Lord Hill was near at hand, and saw it, and I observed him
come galloping up. He put himself at the head of the regiment, and
restored them to order in a moment. Pouring a regular and sharp fire
upon the enemy, he galled them in return; and, remaining with the 29th
till he brought them to the charge, quickly sent the foe to the right
about. It seemed to me that few men could have conducted the business
with more coolness and quietude of manner, under such a storm of balls
as he was exposed to. Indeed, I have never forgotten him from that day.
At the time I was remarking these matters (loading and firing as I
lay), another circumstance divided my attention for a while, and made
me forget even the gallant conduct of General Hill. A man near me
uttered a scream of agony; and, looking from the 29th, who were on
my right, to the left, whence the screech had come, I saw one of our
sergeants, named Frazer, sitting in a doubled-up position, and swaying
backwards and forwards, as though he had got a terrible pain in his
bowels. He continued to make so much complaint, that I arose and went
to him, for he was rather a crony of mine.
"Oh! Harris!" said he, as I took him in my arms, "I shall die! I shall
die! The agony is so great that I cannot bear it."
It was, indeed, dreadful to look upon him; the froth came from his
mouth, and the perspiration poured from his face. Thank Heaven! he was
soon out of pain; and, laying him down, I returned to my place. Poor
fellow! he suffered more for the short time that he was dying, than any
man I think I ever saw in the same circumstances. I had the curiosity
to return and look at him after the battle. A musket-ball, I found, had
taken him sideways, and gone through both groins.
Within about half-an-hour after this I left Sergeant Frazer, and,
indeed, for the time, had as completely forgotten him, as if he had
died a hundred years back. The sight of so much bloodshed around, will
not suffer the mind to dwell long on any particular casuality, even
though it happen to one's dearest friend. There was no time either
to think, for all was action with us Rifles just at this moment; and
the barrel of my piece was so hot from continual firing, that I could
hardly bear to touch it, and was obliged to grasp the stock beneath
the iron, as I continued to blaze away. James Ponton was another crony
of mine (a gallant fellow!); he had pushed himself in front of me, and
was checked by one of our officers for his rashness. "Keep back, you
Ponton!" the lieutenant said to him, more than once. But Ponton was not
to be restrained by anything but a bullet when in action. This time he
got one; which, striking him in the thigh, I suppose hit an artery,
for he died quickly. The Frenchmen's balls were flying very wickedly
at that moment; and I crept up to Ponton, and took shelter by lying
behind, and making a rest for my rifle of his dead body. It strikes
me that I revenged his death by the assistance of his carcase. At any
rate, I tried my best to hit his enemies hard. There were two small
buildings in our front; and the French, having managed to get into
them, annoyed us much from that quarter. A small rise in the ground
close before these houses, also favoured them; and our men were being
handled very severely in consequence. They became angry, and wouldn't
stand it any longer. One of the skirmishers, jumping up, rushed
forward, crying, "Over, boys!--over! over!" when instantly the whole
line responded to the cry, "Over! over! over!" They ran along the grass
like wildfire, and dashed at the rise, fixing their sword-bayonets as
they ran. The French light bobs could not stand the sight, but turned
about, and fled; and, getting possession of their ground, we were soon
inside the buildings. After the battle was over, I stepped across to
the other house I have mentioned, in order to see what was going on
there; for the one I remained in was now pretty well filled with the
wounded (both French and English,) who had managed to get there for a
little shelter. Two or three surgeons, also, had arrived at this house,
and were busily engaged in giving their assistance to the wounded, now
also here lying as thickly as in the building which I had left; but
what struck me most forcibly was, that from the circumstance of some
wine-butts having been left in the apartment, and their having in the
engagement been perforated by bullets, and otherwise broken, the red
wine had escaped most plentifully, and ran down upon the earthen floor,
where the wounded were lying, so that many of them were soaked in the
wine with which their blood was mingled.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: "Fire and retire,"--one of the bugle sounds to the
skirmishers, when hard pressed.]