WE LAND IN THE PENINSULA.
Everything being now in readiness which we could carry away, we
departed from the shores of Denmark in the latter end of October, and
after a most boisterous passage, in which all the gunboats perished
at sea, we arrived in England towards the latter end of November. The
28th Regiment landed at Portsmouth, and a few days later marched for
Colchester. Here we occupied our old barracks, in little more than four
months from the period of our departure thence for foreign service,
but within that short time how wonderfully did we add to the notoriety
of Great Britain! It was facetiously said that the British expeditions
sent forth at this time were like the drunken Irishman at Donnybrook
Fair, intent on fight but devoid of plan, who meets his friend and
knocks him down for love.
[Sidenote: SEA-SICK BY REGULATION.]
A few months after my return (it being confidently supposed that the
regiment would now remain for some time at home), I procured leave of
absence to visit my friends in Ireland; but shortly after my departure
the regiment received orders, in April, to embark at Harwich, and join
the expedition under Sir John Moore. I was immediately recalled; but
on my arrival in London I found that the army had sailed already for
Sweden. I procured a passage to follow the expedition on board the
_Fury Bomb_. Here I cannot say that I felt comfortable. It was the
first time I had the honour of sailing in a man-of-war. There were
many ceremonies to be observed of which I was ignorant, and the close
observance of these was attended with some annoyance to a novice. As
usual I suffered severely from sea-sickness, which at times induced
me to sit on a gun or relieve my aching head against the capstan; and
this I was given to understand was a Royal Naval innovation which
could not be tolerated. Although Captain Gibson, who commanded, was
very polite and frequently entertained me with anecdotes of himself
and of a namesake and relative of mine, whom he stated to be his most
intimate friend and brother officer, still the only place I could
procure to sleep on was a trunk immediately under the purser’s hammock.
Even this luxury I was denied in daytime, for everything being cleared
away at an early hour, I was compelled to quit my roost at cock-crow
in the morning. It not unfrequently happened, too, that, running up on
deck, urged by a sick stomach, I forgot the ceremony of saluting the
quarter-deck, and the omission was always followed by reproof. Although
a strict observance of these regulations was rather teasing to me in
my irritated state of mind and body, yet I feel perfectly aware of its
expediency on board a man-of-war.
Having at length anchored in Gottenborg harbour, I descended from
the noble punctilious man-of-war, and was lowered into the humble
transport, where I found _ad libitum_ sea-sickness a luxury compared to
the restraint which I had lately undergone.
I now doubly enjoyed the society of my old comrades. By these I was
informed that on the arrival of the expedition at Gottenborg, which
took place a few days previously, the troops were refused permission
to land. About this period, although the British troops were sent
to all parts as friends, yet unfortunately they were everywhere
viewed with distrust, and a strict watch kept on all their movements.
The prohibition to land his troops being totally contrary to the
expectations of Sir John Moore, he immediately proceeded to Stockholm
to demand explanation of this extraordinary conduct on the part of
Sweden and also to seek instructions, having, as it would appear,
received none at home.
In an interview with his Swedish Majesty the British general declined
to accept some extraordinary propositions matured in the quixotic brain
of that inconsistent monarch. The first was, that Sir John Moore, with
his ten thousand British troops, should conquer the kingdom of Denmark;
the second, that a similar attempt should be made with like means on
the Russian empire. Finally, as Sir John Moore peremptorily refused to
shut up the British army in the fortress of Stralsund (then about to be
invested by an overwhelming French army), he was placed under arrest by
the king.
In the meantime we were actively employed in practising landings from
the flat-bottomed boats, as if in the face of an enemy, and scampering
over the rocks to keep the men in exercise. This salubrious mode of
warfare continued without intermission until Sir John Moore contrived
to have secret information conveyed to the army, when we immediately
dropped down out of reach of the Swedish batteries; and shortly
afterwards, having eluded the vigilance of Gustavus, to the great joy
of all, on June 29th our gallant chief arrived safe on board the fleet.
Setting sail for England on July 2nd, we arrived off Yarmouth about
the middle of the month. Here taking in water and fresh provisions,
we continued our course for Spithead; and thence we took our second
departure from England, this time for Portugal, the more delighted
since we left our tails behind us. To the great joy of the whole army
an order arrived from the Horse Guards, while we lay at Spithead, to
cut off the men’s queues. These, from their shape, and being generally
soaped for effect, were called pigtails; thenceforth the custom of
plastering the men’s heads with soap was abolished in the British Army.
[Sidenote: TO PORTUGAL.]
Sailing from St. Helen’s on July 31st, 1808, August 19th brought us
close off the coast of Portugal. Next morning we commenced landing at
Figueira, close to the mouth of the Mondego. A large part of the army
were already on shore, and some of the troops had commenced moving
forward when Sir John Moore received a despatch informing him that
Sir Arthur Wellesley had fought and defeated the enemy at Rolica, and
hourly expected a second engagement. The disembarkation was instantly
countermanded; the troops on march were recalled, and put on board as
quickly as the high surf and rapidity of the current would permit.
Everything again in sailing order, and every heart elate, we continued
our course southward, now steering direct for the theatre of actual
war; and the true martial spirit glowed in the breast of every true
soldier.
Imagine, then, what must have been our feelings on the following
morning (August 21st) when in almost a dead calm we moved slowly along,
apparently rendered more slow by our plainly hearing the heavy booming
of cannon, at that moment pouring forth their fury from the heights
of Vimieiro. But they alone who have been in battle and cordially
mingled in fight, can sympathise with the feelings which thrill through
every nerve and agitate the frame of those who, all but in reach of
the field, yet are withheld from participating in its glory. Intense
excitement painfully marked the veteran’s contracted brow, while fiery
impatience flashed in the eyes of the young soldiers.
Creeping along the scarcely ruffled surface of the waters like wounded
snakes or Alexandrine verse, we, seemingly in so many years, arrived in
three days in the unquiet bay or roadstead of Peniche. Here, although
the distant sea continued calm, still the surf so dashed against the
shore that we found much difficulty in landing. When this at last was
done, we immediately proceeded to unite with Sir Arthur Wellesley’s
troops, whom we found still upon the ground, so late the theatre of
their gallant exploits. This, our first march, although but of three
leagues, was severely felt, since with the exception of a scramble
over the rocks in the vicinity of Gottenborg harbour, we had been for
upward of four months cooped up in miserable little transports. The men
had scarcely the use of their limbs; and being so long unaccustomed
to carry their packs, to which were now added three days’ provisions
and sixty rounds of ball-cartridge, in this their first march, with
the thermometer between ninety and a hundred, many were left behind
and slowly followed after. The 4th or King’s Own Regiment, with whom
we were then brigaded, from its seniority of number, marched in front.
Although at the time perhaps the finest looking body of men in the
Army, the select of three battalions, yet, being generally rather
advanced in age as soldiers and heavy-bodied, they were on this day
continually falling out of the ranks and flanking the road. This
afforded an opportunity to one of our light hardy Irishmen (a class of
which the 28th Regiment was then chiefly composed) to remark: “Faith!
this is a very deceiving march; the royal milestones are so close to
each other.”
[Sidenote: HEAVY MARCHING ORDER.]
Nor did the officers suffer less than the men. Being mostly very
young, and with the exception of those who were at Copenhagen, where
little or no marching took place, never having seen a shot fired, they
were totally ignorant of the nature of a campaign. Means of transport
being always very difficult to procure in Portugal and Spain, we all
overloaded ourselves, carrying a boat-cloak, in itself heavy, in which
was rolled a partial change of dress. Our haversacks contained, as
did the men’s, three days’ provisions, to which was added an extra
pair of boots or shoes; and every gentleman carried a stout charge
of rum on service, when so fortunate as to be able to procure it.
Each young warrior too hampered himself with a case of pistols and a
liberal quantity of ball-cartridge, and generally a heavy spyglass.
Thus heavily equipped, many of us commenced our first day’s march in
the Peninsula, in the month of August, with thermometer at ninety-five.
However, before we proceeded much further in the campaign, a light cart
was allowed to each regiment for the convenience of the officers, which
by diminishing our loads wonderfully increased our comfort.
We now fully expected to move rapidly forward against the foe; but slow
and solemn marches were substituted. Nor could we account for this
extraordinary inaction, although rumour was abroad that this our first
campaign in Portugal was in honourable progress through the medium of
foolscap and sheepskin. Still we plodded forward, until we arrived at
the plains of Queluz, about five miles distant from Lisbon, where we
halted, and where our late sluggish movements were accounted for, when
we heard of the celebrated Convention of Cintra. By this the Muscovite
fleet, which by all the laws of war we considered securely our own,
were allowed triumphantly to depart from out the Tagus with their
national colours flying; and Junot also with his troops and all their
plunder, sacrilegiously carried off from holy temples or wrung from the
helpless orphan or widow,--and this ill-gotten freight was conveyed in
British ships to the shores of our most inveterate foes.
The three Commanders-in-chief, with whom the more than anxious
care of the ministry contemporaneously furnished the small army in
Portugal, were recalled to England to account for their conduct, or
misconduct--one for having offended some part of the ministry by
gaining a splendid victory, another for having offended his country
by blasting the fruits of that victory, and the third for having
done nothing but ratify a degrading convention, odious to all. It
is scarcely necessary here to state that these high personages were
(beginning with the junior) Sir Arthur Wellesley, Sir Harry Burrard,
and Sir Hugh Dalrymple.
[Sidenote: SPEECH OF SIR JOHN MOORE.]
A fourth commanding general was now appointed in the person of Sir
John Moore, destined to lead the greater part of the British forces
in Portugal against the enemy. Immediately upon this appointment the
greatest activity prevailed throughout every branch of the service. The
new Commander of the forces, although anxiously employed in forming
magazines and depôts and organising the whole material of the army, yet
appeared to be continually riding through our ranks or inspecting the
different regiments. I recollect that the 28th Regiment were inspected
the day following the one originally appointed, in consequence of
the general not being able to attend. We stood one thousand and
ninety-nine bayonets, officers and sergeants not included. Had we
been inspected the previous day, we should have stood exactly eleven
hundred bayonets, but one man was sent to hospital the night previous.
After the inspection was over, Sir John Moore called the captains
and officers commanding companies together, whom he thus addressed:
“Gentlemen, what I have to say to you is pleasant. I have never seen
a body of men in finer order than your regiment; they appear more
like the picture of a battalion than actual men bearing arms.” Then
addressing Captain (now Colonel Sir Frederick) Stovin, he said: “The
fame of your Grenadier company has gone through the army; but, much
as I expected from report, I am more pleased at its appearance than I
could have anticipated.”