WE ENTERTAIN RIGHT ROYALLY AT TARIFA.
On the day following that upon which we returned to Tarifa I was sent
to Gibraltar with despatches giving an account of our late movements
to the lieutenant-governor, who was much pleased with the conduct of
the regiment in general, but particularly with that of Colonel Browne
for the determined and judicious manner in which he conducted the whole
of the operations, as was fully testified by General Beguines in a
despatch written to General Campbell on the subject.
Rather excited than depressed by the failure of the intended sortie
from Cadiz, General Graham, the resources of whose mind multiplied
in proportion as difficulties appeared, still insisted not only on
the local advantages to be gained by a sortie before Soult should
return with reinforcements, but also that to boldly march out from the
strongest hold in Spain and undauntedly maintain the war in the open
field would inspire the nation with confidence and stimulate the whole
population to the deeds of national glory which Spaniards were wont to
perform. He contended that with such sentiments properly directed the
Spaniards alone were an overmatch for any invading nation, and would
shortly succeed in freeing their country and driving every Frenchman
in Spain down the northern side of the Pyrenees. These arguments could
not be opposed even by General La Peña, who opposed everything except
the enemy. It was therefore arranged that seven thousand Spaniards and
three thousand British troops should embark at Cadiz and sailing to
Tarifa there descend, since that was the nearest place which the allies
possessed in rear of the enemy’s lines. To facilitate this enterprise
General Graham made a sacrifice not easily paralleled. He ceded the
chief command to his ally, thus patriotically giving up the certainty
of personal fame as a leader for the honour of his country’s arms and
the prosperity of the general cause; and such was the confidence he
felt in the valour of the British troops under his command and in the
happy results, if La Peña would only do his duty towards his country,
or do anything except what was glaringly wrong, that he condescended
to serve under the Spanish general, and that too against the opinion
of Lord Wellington, who recommended him never to move out of Cadiz to
execute any movement except in chief command. The duke well knew by
dearly bought experience of what leaven Spanish generals were moulded.
He knew that it required the utmost exertions of a British general to
persuade those of Spain to save their own corps, without calculating on
more. Of this Cuesta gave convincing proof by his movements before the
battle of Talavera, by his inertness and incapacity while the battle
raged and above all by his disgraceful conduct after the battle was
fought, on account of which his lordship felt compelled for the safety
of his own troops to separate from the Spanish army, bidding them
farewell with feelings of respect for the gallant soldiers, of contempt
for the vanity and ignorance of their commanders, and of distrust of
the government who would have devoted their allies and compromised the
honour and independence of their country for personal ambition and mean
self-interested motives. Spanish character in the different branches
was discovered rather too late for his advantage by Sir John Moore, who
portrayed it in its true colours for the information of His Majesty’s
counsellors and the guidance of his successors in Spain.
It was now agreed that Generals La Peña and Graham should march
immediately after disembarkation against the rear of the enemy’s lines,
force a passage to the continental bank of the Santi Petri River, and
by dislodging the French from the posts which they there occupied cover
the construction of the bridge and the sortie from the Isla de Leon.
The Spanish general, Zayas, who was appointed to the command at Cadiz
during La Peña’s absence, was directed to second the project if the
opportune moment should arrive.
[Sidenote: GRAHAM SAILS FROM CADIZ.]
All being now ready, General Graham with the British troops sailed
from Cadiz on February 21st for Tarifa. This place presenting
only a roadstead and the wind blowing fresh on the 22nd, when the
general came before it, a descent was found impracticable, and he
therefore proceeded to Algesiras, where he landed, and marching
over an excessively bad road arrived on the evening of the 23rd at
Tarifa. The weather continuing boisterous, the troops halted to await
the Spaniards; and Major Duncan’s brigade of guns, which had been
disembarked at Algesiras, had to be put on board again and brought
by water to Tarifa on account of the state of the road, over which a
wheelbarrow could not be rolled without disaster.
At Tarifa the 28th Regiment were garrisoned under the command of
Colonel Belson, who had rejoined a few days previously from England.
General Graham being well acquainted with the old corps, particularly
during the campaign of Sir John Moore, requested General Campbell’s
leave to lead it during the expedition, which was granted; but the
lieutenant-governor, not forgetting Colonel Browne’s eminent services
during his long command at Tarifa under many critical circumstances,
sent the flank companies of the 9th and 82nd Regiments from Gibraltar,
which, together with those of the 28th Regiment, were to be placed
under the command of Colonel Browne, thus giving him an independent
flank battalion, subject to no orders but those coming direct from
General Graham.
[Sidenote: GUESTS GALORE.]
During the few days which the British troops spent at Tarifa our time
was passed in that jovial conviviality always to be observed among
British soldiers on the opening of a campaign. This formed a remarkable
era in the history of the 28th Regiment, never equalled in any other
corps. They formed the proper garrison of Tarifa, and having been
quartered there for some time were the only regiment which had an
established mess. The town furnished but one posada, or inn if it may
be so called; and this afforded but little accommodation to so large
a concourse as that now assembled. Upwards of a hundred and fifty
officers dined at our mess daily; those of the regiment, together with
those of the flank companies sent from Gibraltar, who were of course
honorary members, amounted to nearly fifty, for the officers of the
28th Regiment, never being much addicted to depôt duty, always mustered
strong at headquarters.
Our mess-room was very spacious, and at either end was a room which
entered into it; not only these three, but in fact every room in the
house, had tables put down; and many there were who felt glad to
procure a dinner even in the kitchen. The draught on our cellar was
deep, and profiting by the experience of the first day of the jubilee,
on the second day, the 24th, we passed a restriction act limiting
each officer to a pint of port and half a bottle of claret; but
notwithstanding this precaution, we ran a pipe of port dry in less
than four days. Porter and brandy, being easily procured, were not
subject to restriction; a great part of these was disposed of in the
kitchen and the small rooms by the mess-man as his private speculation.
It was calculated that, including port claret brandy and porter, two
thousand bottles were emptied in our mess-house within the week. Our
wine accounts, as must be evident under such circumstances, were
much confused and difficult to keep, since it was no easy matter to
ascertain with whom each visitor had dined. The mess waiter was sent
round daily to ascertain this fact, so necessary for the guidance of
the wine committee. Discrepancies not unfrequently occurred between the
highly favoured host and the too obliging guest. I recollect the mess
waiter telling Colonel Belson one day that Lieutenant-Colonel A----n
said he dined with him, upon which Belson remarked to the guest, loud
enough to be heard by many, “A----n, you do not dine with me.” The
other very humorously replied, “Oh, I beg pardon--I made a mistake; now
I recollect, it was for to-morrow I was engaged to you.” “There you
are mistaken again,” said Belson; “it was for yesterday, when you did
not forget.” These circumstances I recollect well, as I happened to be
president of the mess for that week. Colonel Belson would not allow
me to cede the chair, and always sat on my left hand. Our mess-man, a
sergeant of the regiment named Farrel, although he piqued himself on an
acquaintance with algebra, yet with all the aid of the assumed numbers,
A B C, could never discover the unknown quantities consumed. He went
into the field at Barossa, but was never heard of afterwards. Among the
slain he was not; and, enquiries being made at the French headquarters,
he was not one of the few prisoners taken with a part of our baggage
which fell into the hands of the enemy previous to the commencement of
the action, “when the Spaniards in their way lived to fight another
day.” It is more than probable that in the annals of warfare no
regiment has ever had an opportunity of enjoying themselves to such
an extent as the 28th Regiment while General Graham’s army remained
at Tarifa. We were happy to see our friends, who, to do them justice,
waiving all ceremony showed us extraordinary attention.
Even the sergeants contrived to procure a room, where they enjoyed
themselves as much as the officers in the mess-room; and their jokes,
if not equally refined, were not the less entertaining. Being a member
of the mess committee, my avocations obliged me to keep a vigilant
look-out through all parts of the house, which gave me an opportunity
of hearing unobserved many of the jests and repartees which took place
in the sergeants’ room, or debating society, as it was termed. But
although these were at times rather sharp, still perfect good-humour
prevailed throughout. The principal spokesmen, if my memory fail not,
were a Sergeant Turnbull of the Guards, and a Sergeant O’Brien, of the
87th Regiment. They were most determined opponents, and each had a
bigoted attachment to his own country, in support of which he poured
forth witty and pungent repartees to the great entertainment of the
auditors.
On one occasion, while I was on my way to our cellar, which was fast
falling into consumption, my steps were arrested by loud bursts of
laughter issuing from the debating-room. The first words which I
distinctly heard were, “O, O, O! You are all ‘O’s’ in Ireland!”
[Sidenote: SERGEANTS IN DEBATE.]
This remark evidently came from the Guardsman, when O’Brien drily
replied, “‘O’ means ‘from,’ or ‘the descendant of’; therefore I am not
surprised at its being ridiculed by persons of your country, where long
line of descent is so difficult to be traced.”
“And pray, Mr. O, from whom are you descended?”
“From Bryan Boro, the Great Boro.”
“And surely ‘Boro’ must be a corruption of the Spanish word ‘Burro,’
which signifies ‘an ass’?”
Then Pat grew eloquent on the deeds of his great ancestor, who at the
age of eighty gained a most glorious victory over the invading Danes on
the celebrated plains of Clontarf. Equally eloquent was he also on the
demerits of the Englishmen of that ancient time, until cried out the
British sergeant with a fine scorn:
“I like to hear a fellow of your kind, with your beggarly Irish pride,
talking of records and historical facts! Look to the history of your
own country to learn its disgrace. What have you ever done or achieved
except through murders, robbery, cruelty, bloodshed and treachery?
Have you not always been fighting amongst yourselves, or against your
masters, since we did you the honour of conquering you?”
“If we compare notes about murder and treachery, you need not fear
being left in the background,” retorted the Irishman; “and as to the
honour of being conquered, faith! I cannot cope with you in your
dignities there, for I cannot deny that you have been honoured in that
way by Romans, and by Danes, and by Saxons, and by Picts, and by Scots.”
“Your arguments,” at last said the Englishman, after some further
exchange of historical fragments, “might pass without contempt had they
not been delivered with such a disgusting brogue. I should recommend
you to go back again to some charity school--I mean, in England.”
“If I intended to go to a charity school, it should certainly be in
England. In my country it is only the destitute who go; but in yours
it is the rich men who send their sons on to the ‘foundations’ of the
public schools which were originally intended for the education of poor
clergymen’s sons. With respect to my brogue, which you civilly term
disgusting, it is our national accent and not disgusting to native
ears, although to us the language is foreign. But I should like to
know with what accent your countrymen spoke bastard French when it was
crammed down their throats with a rod of iron for upwards of three
hundred years?”
“A language does not go down the throat,” said the Englishman; “it
comes up, at least in every other country except Ireland. I make you a
present of the bull, although there is no necessity for the donation,
for all bulls are Irish.”
“How are all bulls Irish?”
“Because England, your mother-country, has ceded all bulls to you as
being legitimately Irish.”
“I don’t understand how you make out England to be our mother-country.
Step-mother is the proper term to give her; and, faith! a true
step-mother she has proved herself to be.”
Thus raged the fight amid the laughter and encouragement of the
hearers, until, being president of the mess, I was reluctantly obliged
to return to the mess-room.
During the stay of the British army at Tarifa strong working parties
were constantly employed in levelling the roads, which the French
engineers had frequently reported impassable for artillery; however,
profiting by our exertions in the present instance, they subsequently
brought guns against Tarifa.
The stormy weather having somewhat abated, the second division of the
fleet, laden with La Peña and seven thousand Spaniards, arrived off
Tarifa on the morning of the 27th. It still blew fresh; but owing
to the indefatigable exertions of the navy the astonished Spaniards
found themselves all disembarked before the evening. Again they were
startled at the activity of the British general, who would have marched
that night. The forward state in which the British were induced the
Spaniards to proclaim their army also in movable condition. La Peña and
his troops thus prepared and the roads made passable for artillery, the
march was announced for the morrow.
[Sidenote: JOVIAL PRELUDE TO WAR.]
The night of the 27th being the last jovial one the army were to pass
at Tarifa, one hundred and ninety-one officers dined at the mess. The
exhilarating juice of the grape was freely quaffed from out the crystal
cup, and the inspiring songs of love and war went joyfully round, and
the conclusion of each animating strophe was loudly hailed with choral
cheers; for such is the composition of a soldier that the object of
his love and his country’s foe alike call forth the strongest and
most indomitable effusions of his heart, so closely allied is love to
battle. Hilarity and mirth reigned throughout. Lively sallies of wit
cheerfully received as guilelessly shot forth added brilliancy to the
festive board. Officers having entered their profession young, mutual
attachment was firmly cemented, genuine and disinterested. Each man
felt sure that he sat between two friends; worldly considerations,
beyond legitimate pleasures and professional ambition, were banished
from our thoughts. The field of glory was present to our view and
equally open to all; none meanly envied the proud distinctions which
chance of war fortunately threw in the way of others. Oh, what an
odious change I have lived to witness! But the days of our youth are
the days of our friendship, our love and our glory. A fig for the
friendship commenced after the age of sixteen or seventeen, when the
cool, calculating and sordid speculations of man suffocate the fervid
and generous feelings of youth!