THE FORD OF SANTA MARTA, SALAMANCA
[We are in Spain, on a July night of the same summer, the air being
hot and heavy. In the darkness the ripple of the river Tormes can
be heard over the ford, which is near the foreground of the scene.
Against the gloomy north sky to the left, lightnings flash
revealing rugged heights in that quarter. From the heights comes
to the ear the tramp of soldiery, broke and irregular, as by
obstacles in their descent; as yet they are some distance off.
On heights to the right hand, on the other side of the river,
glimmer the bivouac fires of the French under MARMONT. The
lightning quickens, with rolls of thunder, and a few large drops
of rain fall.
A sentinel stands close to the ford, and beyond him is the ford-
house, a shed open towards the roadway and the spectator. It is
lit by a single lantern, and occupied by some half-dozen English
dragoons with a sergeant and corporal, who form part of a mounted
patrol, their horses being picketed at the entrance. They are
seated on a bench, and appear to be waiting with some deep intent,
speaking in murmurs only.
The thunderstorm increases till it drowns the noise of the ford
and of the descending battalions, making them seem further off
than before. The sentinel is about to retreat to the shed when
he discerns two female figures in the gloom. Enter MRS. DALBIAC
and MRS. PRESCOTT, English officers wives.]
SENTINEL
Where there's war there's women, and where there's women there's
trouble! [Aloud] Who goes there?
MRS. DALBIAC
We must reveal who we are, I fear [to her companion]. Friends!
[to sentinel].
SENTINEL
Advance and give the countersign.
MRS. DALBIAC
Oh, but we can't!
SENTINEL
Consequent which, you must retreat. By Lord Wellington's strict
regulations, women of loose character are to be excluded from the
lines for moral reasons, namely, that they are often employed by
the enemy as spies.
MRS. PRESCOTT
Dear good soldier, we are English ladies benighted, having mistaken
our way back to Salamanca, and we want shelter from the storm.
MRS. DALBIAC
If it is necessary I will say who we are.--I am Mrs. Dalbiac, wife
of the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fourth Light Dragoons, and this
lady is the wife of Captain Prescott of the Seventh Fusileers. We
went out to Christoval to look for our husbands, but found the army
had moved.
SENTINEL [incredulously]
“Wives!” Oh, not to-day! I have heard such titles of courtesy
afore; but they never shake me. “W” begins other female words than
“wives!”--You'll have trouble, good dames, to get into Salamanca
to-night. You'll be challenged all the way down, and shot without
clergy if you can't give the countersign.
MRS. PRESCOTT
Then surely you'll tell us what it is, good kind man!
SENTINEL
Well--have ye earned enough to pay for knowing? Government wage is
poor pickings for watching here in the rain. How much can ye stand?
MRS. DALBIAC
Half-a-dozen pesetas.
SENTINEL
Very well, my dear. I was always tender-hearted. Come along.
[They advance and hand the money.] The pass to-night is “Melchester
Steeple.” That will take you into the town when the weather clears.
You won't have to cross the ford. You can get temporary shelter in
the shed there.
[As the ladies move towards the shed the tramp of the infantry
draws near the ford, which the downfall has made to purl more
boisterously. The twain enter the shed, and the dragoons look
up inquiringly.]
MRS. DALBIAC [to dragoons]
The French are luckier than you are, men. You'll have a wet advance
across this ford, but they have a dry retreat by the bridge at Alba.
SERGEANT OF PATROL [starting from a doze]
The moustachies a dry retreat? Not they, my dear. A Spanish
garrison is in the castle that commands the bridge at Alba.
MRS. DALBIAC
A peasant told us, if we understood rightly, that he saw the Spanish
withdraw, and the enemy place a garrison there themselves.
[The sergeant hastily calls up two troopers, who mount and ride off
with the intelligence.]
SERGEANT
You've done us a good turn, it is true, darlin'. Not that Lord
Wellington will believe it when he gets the news.... Why, if my
eyes don't deceive me, ma'am, that's Colonel Dalbiac's lady!
MRS. DALBIAC
Yes, sergeant. I am over here with him, as you have heard, no doubt,
and lodging in Salamanca. We lost our way, and got caught in the
storm, and want shelter awhile.
SERGEANT
Certainly, ma'am. I'll give you an escort back as soon as the
division has crossed and the weather clears.
MRS. PRESCOTT [anxiously]
Have you heard, sergeant, if there's to be a battle to-morrow?
SERGEANT
Yes, ma'am. Everything shows it.
MRS. DAlBIAC [to MRS. PRESCOTT]
Our news would have passed us in. We have wasted six pesetas.
MRS. PRESCOTT [mournfully]
I don't mind that so much as that I have brought the children from
Ireland. This coming battle frightens me!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
This is her prescient pang of widowhood.
Ere Salamanca clang to-morrow's close
She'll find her consort stiff among the slain!
[The infantry regiments now reach the ford. The storm increases
in strength, the stream flows more furiously; yet the columns of
foot enter it and begin crossing. The lightning is continuous;
the faint lantern in the ford-house is paled by the sheets of
fire without, which flap round the bayonets of the crossing men
and reflect upon the foaming torrent.]
CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music]
The skies fling flame on this ancient land!
And drenched and drowned is the burnt blown sand
That spreads its mantle of yellow-grey
Round old Salmantica to-day;
While marching men come, band on band,
Who read not as a reprimand
To mortal moils that, as 'twere planned
In mockery of their mimic fray,
The skies fling flame.
Since sad Coruna's desperate stand
Horrors unsummed, with heavy hand,
Have smitten such as these! But they
Still headily pursue their way,
Though flood and foe confront them, and
The skies fling flame.
[The whole of the English division gets across by degrees, and
their invisible tramp is heard ascending the opposite heights as
the lightnings dwindle and the spectacle disappears.]