He opened the door and called "Peter!"

"Peter," he said, "Mr. Hallett is now one of my ensigns, and he will

take you on if you like."

"Sure and I would like it, your honour. I was wondering if I should

have to go into the ranks again, and it is rather a dale I'd stop as I

am."

"Mr. Hallett has arranged to take over your late master's things, and to

buy his horse, and will, of course, occupy his room, so that you will

find no difference in your duties."

"Well, sor, it will make no difference to me, and what difference there

is will be for the better. Lieutenant Barkley was a kind gentleman, but

he was very soft, sir, and was always ailing. I have no doubt that Mr.

Hallett will be a good gentleman to serve under, for there is no man

better liked in the regiment."

Left to himself, Arthur at once changed his uniform. His new one, he

found, fitted him as well as if it had been made for him. Then he went

down to the stables and looked at his purchase. It was in somewhat poor

condition, but a fine animal.

"See that he has plenty of forage," he said to the soldier. "He

evidently wants more than he gets. You had better buy him some in the

town every day till he gets into good condition."

"He is just wearying for work, your honour. Mr. Barkley was not famous

on horseback, and when he had to march he generally led his horse a good

part of the way; and he was not out on him more than half a dozen times

since we landed six months ago."

Then Arthur went out to the convent yard. Roper at once came up to him

and saluted. "So you have gone up, sir! I felt sure you would."

"Yes, Roper, and I wish you would come up too."

"It would never have done, sir. I make a pretty good non-commissioned

officer, and manage not to get drunk till I am off duty, but I am not

fit to be an officer, and should have said so at once if they had asked

me. I shall miss you badly, but I shall probably see you every day, and

I mean to make an exchange into your company if I can manage it.

"I will speak to Captain Buller about it, I have no doubt he will be

willing enough to exchange you. However, whether or not, we can always

be friends."

"You may be sure of that, sir."

It was now lunch time, and Arthur went into the mess-room, where he

received hearty congratulations, and soon settled down in his place.

That evening he wrote a long letter to his aunt, telling her of his

promotion. "I think," he concluded, "that it will not be long before we

move. We have a fairly large body of troops here now, Spanish as well

as ourselves. Why we have not moved before this, is more than I can

make out, but I suppose the big-wigs know. When we do begin, I hope we

shall go on in earnest, for this delay is very trying. The hospitals

here are all full of sick, and nothing would do us so much good as to

have a sharp brush with the enemy."

Most of the officers found life at Vittoria terribly dull, but to Arthur

the time passed pleasantly enough. He spent two or three hours a day

working hard at Spanish, and he went every morning to a teacher of

fencing, reasoning that as the sword was now his weapon he ought to be

able to use it. Some of the officers were inclined to laugh at the time

he expended on study and exercise, but he retorted that it was a good

deal more pleasant than sitting in cafes trying to kill time. But,

indeed, there was plenty to do. The hardships suffered by the troops

were extreme; no pay was forthcoming; the amount of rations served out

was barely sufficient to keep life together. The quarters assigned to

them were bitterly cold, and they suffered terribly throughout the

winter. Hundreds died; thousands were so reduced by illness that they

had to be sent down to the seaport, where very many more died; large

numbers were invalided home, and but a comparatively small portion ever

took their places again in the ranks of the Legion.

The officers did all they could to mitigate the sufferings of the men,

but they, too, received no pay; and, except in the matter of quarters,

were as badly off as the others. Some of them who were men of fortune

were able to get little comforts for the sick; the rest could only show

their sympathy by visiting them, and talking cheeringly to them. And,

indeed, the disgust and fury of the men were so great that, had they

received orders to do so, they would joyfully have set out on the march

south, cut their way through the Carlists and Christinos alike, and made

at least an effort to overthrow the government that had broken all its

engagements to them and left them to die like dogs. What still more

enraged them was, that while all this time they were left to starve, the

magazines Of the Spanish troops were full, and the men well fed and

clothed.

With spring there was a slight improvement in matters. The

remonstrances of the British general and the British government had had

some slight effect. A small amount of pay was issued, and rations were

served out with a little more regularity.

There was joy in every heart when it became known that the long period

of inactivity had come to an end, and that a move was about to be made.

As long as they formed part of the force commanded by the Spanish

general Cordova, they felt that nothing could be done. The Carlists

occupied the hills round Vittoria, and at times sent parties almost up

to the town, but nothing could arouse Cordova from his lethargy, or

induce him to make any serious efforts to dislodge the enemy. He was,

it was reported, going to co-operate with General Evans by attacking the

rear of the Carlists, while the Legion was to attempt to drive them back

from the strong positions they occupied outside San Sebastian; but both

officers and men scoffed at the idea that Cordova would move out of

Vittoria, and the general opinion was that the Legion would do better if

it relied upon its own fighting powers rather than upon any Spanish

co-operation.

By this time the mob of men who composed the Legion had been, by

incessant drill, converted into soldiers, who only wanted a baptism of

fire to take their place side by side with veterans. In point of

appearance they were not much to look at. The clothes in which for

nearly six months they had lived and slept were almost in rags, but

their bearing was erect. Suffering had set a stern expression on their

faces, and General Evans, as they marched out from Vittoria, felt that

they could be thoroughly relied on. Many who had just recovered from

sickness were still thin and feeble, and really unfit for work, but all

who could possibly accompany the force had obtained their release from

hospital, and were the envy of many hundreds of their comrades who were

incapable of moving, and of whom the greater part were destined never to

leave Vittoria.

As the Carlists lay between Vittoria and San Sebastian, the force was

compelled to march down to Santander. The men enjoyed the change; the

fresh warm breezes of spring reanimated them. Many, it was true, were

forced to lag behind, but most of these afterwards rejoined, though some

were murdered by the peasantry, who were, to a man, hostile. A strong

rear-guard, however, moved slowly behind the column, collecting those

who had fallen by the way, and only arriving at Santander twenty-four

hours after the rest. As soon as the head of the column reached

Santander they were taken on board ship. There was only sufficient

transport to carry half the Legion, but the distance was short, and in

four days half the force were assembled at San Sebastian.

All felt that the change from Vittoria was a pleasant one. San Sebastian

stands at the extremity of a low sandy tongue of land washed on the east

by the Urumea, and on the north and west by the Bay of Biscay, and

attached to the mainland only on the south by a narrow isthmus. It was

strong both by nature and art, being defended by walls and bastions, and

almost free from the possibility of attack on the sea or river faces by

the fact that, except at low tide, there was scarce room for troops to

be landed near the foot of the walls. The town had been almost

destroyed by being fired by the French in the memorable siege of 1813,

when it cost the British nearly fifteen thousand men in killed and

wounded to capture it. The fire had been a great advantage to it, for

the narrow streets and alleys had been swept away and replaced by broad

streets and well-built houses. The inhabitants here were divided in

their sympathies, the mercantile classes being with the Christinos.

The heights beyond the end of the low peninsula were occupied by the

Carlists in great force. Their motive in thus wasting their strength

when they might have been better employed in the field was not very

clear to Arthur and his brother officers. It was certain that they

could not carry the place by assault; and as the sea was open to its

defenders, it was equally impossible for them to reduce it by hunger.

The place showed few signs of being beleaguered. The town was full, as

it contained many refugee families from the surrounding country. The

shops were well filled with goods. In the evening the promenades were

thronged with well-dressed people, who paraded up and down to the

strains of military music. The cafes were crowded, and everywhere there

was an appearance of life and animation. The people viewed with

astonishment the ragged appearance of the regiment as they landed, and

many small kindnesses were shown to them. The effect of the sea air and

the bright sun did much for the troops, and in a week after their

arrival they had so far smartened themselves up that they made a decent

show. The officers fraternized with those of the ships of war, and

although its numbers were sadly thinned since its arrival in Spain, the

Legion had recovered much of its jauntiness and self-confidence.

"This is a glorious change," Arthur said to one of his comrades, as they

leant on the battlements and looked out over the sea. A good many ships

were in the port, some of them transports, others laden with stores; and

the sounds of music in the town came to their ears. "One begins to feel

that after all one did not make a great mistake in entering the

Legion--not that I have ever greatly repented the step. I have been

most fortunate in getting promotion. I have come to speak Spanish

decently, and I have certainly learnt how to fence."

"I don't see that the last part is likely to be of much use, Hallett.

When one does get into a hand-to-hand fight I don't expect one has much

time to think of the niceties of fencing. One just hits out as one can."

"Yes, if one is not a thorough good fencer; but if one is not, he finds

it more natural to strike a downright blow than to thrust. Besides, I

don't know that I have learnt fencing so much in order to defend myself

as because it is a fine exercise in itself. It strengthens all one's

muscles amazingly, and at Vittoria it enabled one, two or three hours a

day, to forget all the misery that was being suffered by the men. Last,

and I may say not least, of its advantages is that it will enable one to

fight. I am not thinking of fighting battles, but of duels. I observed

from the first a great many of these Spanish officers seem to treat us

in a very cavalier sort of manner, which is a thing that I do not feel

at all inclined to put up with. I believe most Spanish gentlemen learn

to fence as a matter of course. I don't know whether it is so, but so I

have been told, and I was determined to be able to give any one of them

a lesson if he attempted any impertinence towards me. My master at

Vittoria said, before I came away, that I had become a very strong

fencer--as strong, indeed, as any pupil he had ever had, and that it was

quite astonishing that I should have learned so much in the course of

four or five months. I have already engaged another master here, and I

mean to stick to him till I feel that I can hold my own with anyone."

"If you can do it in skill, I should say that you could certainly do it

in strength, Hallett; you look as if you were made of whip-cord. You

have got height, a good pair of shoulders, and any amount of activity.

You have broadened out amazingly since I first saw you, and I should

certainly say that you would be an awkward customer to any of these

dons, who are, for the most part, in spite of all their swagger, an

undersized lot."

"Yes, they have certainly not much to boast of in the way of strength;

with a few exceptions, I would not mind taking on any two of them with

one arm tied behind me."

"I wish I had given up three hours a day, all the time we were at

Vittoria, working at their language, Hallett. I see that you have

gained a lot by it. You are able to chat away with the Spanish officers

and chaff with the Spanish girls, while most of us are no better than

dummies. Of course we have all picked up a few phrases--some

complimentary, but for the most part quite the reverse--as a medium in

our conversation with the natives, but they don't go far in polite

society, though they do assist us a bit when we want to sharpen up some

of these mule-drivers or men with the waggons."

"Why don't you begin to learn fencing? It will occupy your time anyhow,

though I don't say that you would find it as useful as Spanish."

"I will think of it, Hallett, as soon as this fight has come off. They

say we shall attack the enemy's lines before long. I shall not have time

to learn much before that, and I may as well take it easily till then,

as I may not come out of it alive. I was looking at the enemy yesterday

from the other side of the town. They seem amazingly strong. I can see

by my glasses that they have covered the whole face of the hill with

entrenchments and loopholed all the houses, and I think these Carlists

are obstinate fellows and will fight hard."

"Well, I do hope that Evans will attack as soon as the whole Legion

comes up, without waiting for Cordova. He is a hopeless brute, and I

have not the least expectation of his setting his troops in motion to

help us."

"I am wholly with you," his friend said. "As far as we have seen

hitherto, it is evident that if there is any fighting to be done we

shall have to do it. These Christino commanders seem to have only one

idea, and that is to avoid an engagement. We have heard that

Zumalacarreguy has been marching about capturing towns, collecting

spoil, and playing old gooseberry wherever he has gone, and dodging

successfully any efforts the Christinos have made to bring him to a

fight. It is just the same thing round Vittoria. That brute Cordova

stops there in the big house that he has taken possession of. He eats,

drinks, and enjoys himself; but as for marching out to fight the

Carlists, the idea seems never to have occurred to him. Well, it is

time we were turning back, for it is the hour for the promenade; and I

must say that I like looking at the senoras even if it is beyond my

power to talk to them."

*CHAPTER III*

*AN ADVENTURE*

Arthur found his knowledge of Spanish very useful to him at San

Sebastian. He soon made the acquaintance of many of the young men of

the town, and was invited by them to feasts and dances at their houses,

where he became a general favourite by his frankness and the enjoyment

with which he entered into the amusements. Although he could converse

very fairly on ordinary subjects, he had not as yet learned the language

of compliment, and his blunt phrases greatly amused the Spanish girls.

He was indeed far more awkward with them than with their brothers or

husbands. Except with his own cousins, who were a good deal younger than

himself, and whom he had never thought of complimenting in the smallest

degree, he had never known anything of the other sex. He had the usual

boyish contempt for girls, and had almost regarded them as inferior

animals. Consequently he was quite at sea with these laughing,

black-eyed senorettas, with their fluttering fans, their pretty

gestures, and their black mantillas.

"Senor Inglese," one of them said with a smile, "do you know that you

are a very rude man?"

"I am shocked to hear it," he said. "How am I rude? I admire you all,

but I can't go about telling you so."

"We don't all wish to be admired, senor; there would be no satisfaction

if you admired every one; but we do all expect pretty speeches nicely

and delicately put, speeches which without meaning much would imply that

you are wholly at our service."

"I am afraid, senoretta, that it will be a long time before my Spanish

enables me to do that sort of thing. If it came to the question of

putting my arm round your waist and giving you a kiss, I could manage

it, but to pay you all sorts of compliments is quite beyond me."

"It would not do at all for you to behave so rudely as that, senor," the

girl laughed; "that would be quite an unknown thing. It is respectful

homage that we require, and such homage can be rendered by the eyes

alone without its being necessary to speak it."

Arthur laughed. "But my eyes have never been trained to that sort of

expression, senoretta, and I should no more know how to do it than how

to fly. When I was a boy I kissed girls under the mistletoe, but that

is only a sort of romp and goes for nothing. I do not think that I have

ever paid a girl a compliment in my life."

"What do you mean by the mistletoe, senor? I have never heard of such a

thing."

Arthur explained, as well as he could, the mysteries of this vegetable.

"What!" she exclaimed. "You kiss a girl in sight of other people! But

it is dreadful--it is barbarism! No Spanish girl could suffer such a

thing."

"I fancy you would, if it were a Spanish custom," he laughed. "I own

that I could never see much fun in it; still, it was one of the things

that you were expected to do at Christmas. However, I can assure you

that I have no idea of introducing the custom here; and I will promise

you that if I do kiss you it will not be in public."

"But you must never think of such a thing," the girl said, horrified.

"It would be terrible! No girl permits a man to kiss her unless he is

affianced, and then only very, very occasionally."

"I will take note of that, senoretta, and will wait till I am affianced

before I begin."

"And will it be an English girl, or a Spaniard?"

"An English girl," Arthur said bluntly. "I do not say that the Spanish

girls are not very nice, but their ways are not our ways, and they are

not of our religion, and their friends would disapprove; in fact, there

are all sorts of objections."

"You think them prettier than we are?" the girl said, with a toss of her

head.

"No, senoretta, I do not say that. I have seen many Spanish girls quite

as pretty as English girls, but it is a different kind of beauty--one

that we are not accustomed to, any more than you are accustomed to the

appearance and ways of an Englishman. The two races are like oil and

water: you may stir them about as much as you like, they never really

mix."

"I suppose that is so," she said, more seriously than she had spoken

before. "They say that Englishmen make good husbands, and that they are

not jealous, as Spanish men are, all of which must be very nice; still,

of course there are drawbacks to them. Well, senor, we must talk this

over another time, for here is my cavalier coming to claim me for the

next dance."

Arthur was chatting with a young Spanish officer whose acquaintance he

had made, when the latter said:

"I wish I could go up those hills to-morrow. I have an uncle living up

there. He is a Carlist, and he has a pretty daughter who is to be

married to a Carlist officer to-morrow evening. I would give a good

deal to be able to be there, but I don't see how it is to be managed. I

might get there easily enough, for I could borrow a small boat and row

up the Urumea after dusk, land beyond their outposts, and make my way

round there; but of course I should be known when I got there. I am

sure my uncle would be very glad to see me, but I should be recognized

at once by some of his friends."

"You might disguise yourself," Arthur said. "Put on a big pair of false

moustachios, and of course dress as a civilian."

"I dare say it might be done," the young officer said, "if I had

somebody to go with me."

"It would be a great lark," Arthur said, "and I don't suppose there

could be much danger in it. Even if you were detected they would hardly

make a row at a wedding."

"No, I don't suppose I should be hurt; but the feeling between the two

parties is very strong, and, as you know, quarter is very seldom given

on either side."

"Yes, your methods of war can hardly be called civilized, senor."

As they stood looking at the hill, Arthur turned the matter over in his

mind. He knew that the general was very anxious to obtain some

knowledge of the Carlist trenches and fortifications. If he were to

volunteer to accompany this officer he might be able to obtain a good

deal of information on the subject. To do so he would be obliged, after

the wedding, to make his way straight down the hill instead of coming

back to the boat, but this, he thought, would not be so very difficult.

While anyone coming up the hill would be closely questioned, it was

hardly likely that so much care would be taken in the case of those

walking down, for the Carlists would be constantly going up and down to

get provisions from the villages. There should be no difficulty in

getting down to the trenches at the foot of the hill, but from there one

would have to run the gauntlet. Still, the chances of being shot in the

dark would not be great, and the information that he might obtain would

be invaluable.

After thinking it over for a minute or two, he said to his companion:

"I have never seen a Spanish wedding, senor, and should certainly like

to do so. If you would take me with you, I should be very glad to

accompany you."

"Would you?" the young fellow said. "Well, you know, it would be a

dangerous business. If I were suspected, I have no doubt that my uncle

would protect me: he is a colonel in their service. And if the worst

were to happen, I should be made a prisoner. But if they were to find

you out, I fear that they would show you no mercy, and that even my

uncle would not be able to save you."

"I don't think they would find me out," Arthur said. "I can talk well

enough to pass muster, if I did not enter into any long conversation,

which I could take care not to do. I should, of course, keep very much

in the background, as you yourself would do, I suppose. At a wedding

like this would not a good many officers and others attend who are not

intimate friends of the family?"

"Oh, yes! my uncle's house will be virtually open to all comers. I

shouldn't speak to anyone but my cousin, who is a great friend of mine,

and I should manage to get close enough to her to whisper in her ear who

I am, and give her my good wishes. No, I don't think the risk can be

very great, and if you are quite in earnest I should be glad of your

company. Mind, if there is a row you will have to take care of yourself,

and I shall look after myself."

"Certainly. I understand that I should go in with you and do as you do.

I should keep in the background, and go quietly off at the end of the

evening. If by any chance I am discovered I should simply make a bolt

for it. The nights are dark, and as I am a pretty good runner I don't

think the risk of being overtaken would be great.

"Will you arrange about the boat? And if you will tell me where it will

be lying, I will meet you there to-morrow evening at any time you like

to name."

"It will be quite dark by seven, and we will start at that hour. But

can you row? I own that I cannot."

"Yes, I can row," Arthur said. "Now, what disguise would you advise me

to take?"

"Certainly the best disguise would be that of a Carlist officer, but I

don't know how it will be possible to get it. There has been some

fighting between their men and ours, and a good many have been killed on

both sides. The dead are generally stripped by ruffians of the town,

and I have no doubt that in some of the shops in the poorer quarters

some Carlist uniforms may be found. Of course they are not likely to be

exhibited for sale now; the shopkeepers will be reserving them till the

Carlists come in, which they are sure to do sooner or later. My soldier

servant is a smart fellow. I will send him down this afternoon to

forage about, and I have no doubt that he will succeed in getting one of

medium size for a tall man. But if you come down to my quarters this

evening you will see what he has got; and if it is not large enough for

you, I have no doubt it can easily be altered to fit you properly."

"That is a capital idea," Arthur said, "and would suit me admirably.

Then I will come down, as you say, this evening, and see how your man

has succeeded."

"It will be a rare adventure," the young Spaniard said. "I told my

cousin months ago that I would dance at her wedding, and as things were

growing black then, she laughed in my face and laid me a wager that I

wouldn't. It will be great fun letting her know that I have won."

When Arthur went to the Spanish officer's quarters that evening he found

him examining two uniforms laid out on his table.

"My man has just brought these in," he said. "One of them will fit me

well enough, but I am afraid that the other will never meet across your

chest."

The coat was a little short for him, but this was not very noticeable.

It met round the waist, but was three inches too small round the chest.

"I can get that altered easily enough. Do you think you can borrow a

sword from one of your comrades? You can make some excuse that yours

has gone to be repaired, as the blade has come out of the hilt. You

see, the pommels of our swords are so different from yours that if I

were to carry mine it would lead to our detection at once."

"Yes; no doubt I can borrow one, and I will get a belt from another on

some other excuse."

"I will take the uniform now. Will you bring the sword and belt down to

the river?"

"Yes. I have arranged for a boat; it will be at the San Nicola steps at

seven in the evening. Fortunately, the tide will be running in at that

hour, so that we shall be able to drift past the Carlist outposts, and

of course it will be running out again by the time we come back."

"Capital!" Arthur said. "Everything seems to be with us, and it will be

an adventure to laugh about for a long time."

"It will indeed!" the other said gleefully. "How the fellows of my

regiment will envy me when I tell them where I have been! But how about

our faces? Do you think we can buy moustaches?"

"I have no idea," Arthur said. "If we can't, I intend to buy a piece of

fur with long hair, or a piece of fox skin would do, and cut out a pair

of moustaches and glue them on; I am sure they would stand any casual

inspection. And I should darken my face and hands a little: I am rather

too fair to pass observation. As no one would know me, I don't see how

I could be detected. But of course you would have to alter your face as

much as possible."

"Yes. Well, you see, I had always worn my hair long, and now I have cut

it quite short. I have not got much eyebrow, and I will put a few dabs

of fur on, so as to make them heavy; draw a line up each corner above

the nose, so as to give myself a scowl; and I should get my man to make

a line or two across the forehead. I think like that I should do.

People don't stare much at each other on such occasions; their attention

is principally occupied with looking at the bride and bridegroom, and

the ceremony."

"Very well, then. To-morrow evening at the stairs of San Nicola."

On the following evening Arthur made his way down to the river. He was

dressed in the simple uniform of the Carlist officers, which consisted

of a tunic and a red Basque cap, with breeches or trousers according to

the fancy of the wearer. He was first at the rendezvous, but five

minutes later his friend Sebastian Romero arrived.

"You have not been here long, I hope?" the latter said. "I was kept

talking by the major just as I wanted to disguise myself."

"No; I have only been here a few minutes."

"The boat is tied to a stake. I don't think the tide has reached her

yet."

"No; I went down to see her directly I got here. She will be afloat in

a few minutes."

In five minutes they were off, Sebastian sitting in the stern as Arthur

took the sculls.

"I will row across to the other side at once," Arthur said; "by keeping

close to that bank we shall not run the risk of being detected by their

outposts on this side. I can row for the first mile, then as we shall

be nearly opposite them, we can drift up for as much farther; by that

time we should be beyond their lines, and can cross the stream and

land."

"Yes, I think so," the other agreed. "We have to get well past the

hill, for certainly they have works right up to the top. Of course we

can see them through our glasses, but the ground is so broken with

walls, gardens, and houses that we can't exactly see where their strong

points are, and certainly not where the Carlists are most strongly

posted. We hear such different accounts from the country people who come

in, that we cannot believe them in the slightest, especially as we know

that they are Carlists almost to a man, and would naturally try to

deceive us."

With steady strokes Arthur rowed along, keeping close under the bank and

taking care to avoid making a splash. Presently they could hear a murmur

of talk on the opposite bank, and he stopped rowing. The stream was

running up hard, and in less than half an hour they were well beyond the

Carlists' lines. Crossing the river then, they landed at a spot from

which a path led up the hill. Sebastian said that his uncle's house was

situated about a quarter of a mile from the top.

"When we are once in the house, Sebastian, I think we had better not

keep near each other; then, if one is by any chance detected the other

can make a bolt for it."

"Yes; I think we might as well keep apart. I am more likely to be

detected than you, but the risk of discovery would be greater for you

than for me. As a relative, it would be thought natural that I should

wish to be at the wedding. I might be shot by the Carlists, but my

uncle would take my part, and at any rate it would be evident that I did

not come as a spy; whereas, if you were caught it would be very awkward

for you, though of course I should say that you came as my friend, and

had no idea of entering their lines. Still, it would be very awkward;

and if you should see that I am taken, I advise you to slip quietly off

at once."

Arthur, however, had no intention of remaining any time at the house and

waiting till his companion was ready to leave, for the latter would

certainly object to share in his own plan of making his way down through

the Carlist lines. And as he was going in a way as Sebastian's guest, he

could not very well leave him. The house was but a quarter of a mile,

his friend had said, from the upper line of the works; and, even if

detected, he could, with the advantage of a surprise, easily get there

before being overtaken. Not, indeed, that he expected to be pursued.

His intention was to slip away quietly soon after getting to the house,

and to stroll down to the lines, where it was improbable in the extreme

that he would be challenged.

"If by any chance I should not turn up, Sebastian, when you want to come

away, you had better go down to the boat and wait there for a quarter of

an hour, and then push off. You may not be able to row much, but you

could certainly manage to get over to the other side, and then you would

only have to let her drift."

"Yes; but there can be no reason why we should not come away together."

"Well, you see, one or other of us may be suspected, and it may be

necessary to slip off. I don't say that it is likely at all, but there

is nothing like being prepared for all emergencies."

After a quarter of an hour's walk they reached the house. It was, as

they had expected, full of officers and friends. The ceremony had just

been concluded, and many were going up to the bride and bridegroom

offering their congratulations. Music was being played, and servants

were handing round refreshments. Sebastian joined those clustered round

the newly-married pair, while Arthur mingled with those standing in

groups round the room. He had scarcely been there a minute when he

noticed that the eyes of two or three of his neighbours were fixed upon

him curiously. Wondering why their attention should be attracted to

him, he put his hand up to his face, and to his horror found that half

his moustache was gone. He had become warm when rowing, and this had

doubtless moistened the gum with which he had fastened them on to his

lip.

He at once made for the door, but as he left the room he glanced round

and saw that three or four of the men who had observed him were speaking

together and making after him. The moment he was outside he started to

run. He had gone but twenty yards when there was a shout behind him.

This unexpected discovery had altogether upset his plans. He had

calculated on being able to stroll quietly down into the Carlist lines.

Now he would have to exert himself to the utmost to get there before his

pursuers, who were close upon him. He ran at the top of his speed,

looking round once or twice as he did so. He gained on his pursuers,

who, now convinced that there was something wrong, exerted themselves to

the utmost to overtake him. As he neared the brow of the hill he could

hear talking and laughing in front of him, and soon he came upon a line

of fires round which soldiers were gathered. His pursuers now, though he

could no longer see them, began to shout loudly, "A spy, a spy! Seize

him!"

For a moment or two the talk by the fire ceased, and the men stood

listening to the cries. They were therefore unprepared for action when

Arthur dashed through them--he had no time to choose a place--and

knocked over two or three who endeavoured to grasp him. In a moment he

was running down the hill with a hundred men in pursuit. Presently he

saw a high embankment ahead of him, which he knew must be the highest

point of the defences. He ran up it, and, when he reached the top,

jumped. It was a fall of some fifteen feet, but the ground was soft

where he alighted, and, picking himself up, he ran on. He had not gone

fifty yards when a musket was fired from the top of the embankment.

This was followed by a dozen others, and the fire grew into a roar.

Evidently the Carlists, in their bewilderment as to what had happened,

were firing at random. Presently he came to a wall, which he vaulted

over as a number of men ran up.

"What are they firing about?"

"Don't you see it is a Christino surprise?" he said. "Open fire at

once, or they will be upon you."

Instantly the men obeyed his orders. Others ran up and joined them, and

Arthur strolled quietly away. He met numbers of men running up.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" he said. "The Christinos have attacked us from

behind and carried the upper line. Run on! I am on my way to fetch up

all the men."

[Illustration: ARTHUR MAKES HIS WAY THROUGH THE CARLIST LINES]

In five minutes the fire ceased. Evidently some officer had come down

from the upper trenches, and passed word along the lines that the alarm

was false. By this time, however, Arthur was some distance down the

hill, and had little fear of being discovered. No one, indeed, paid any

attention to him. The Carlists were all discussing the meaning of the

heavy firing and its sudden cessation. Some officers who had come down

from the second line explained that it was all a mistake, and that no

one could say how it had arisen. All that they had been able to gather

was that someone had run down, that a sudden alarm had been given by

somebody, and that the troops had fired wildly. They were enquiring

into the matter at the top of the hill; at present it was all a mystery.

Arthur spent a couple of hours gradually making his way down, examining

the defences and noting their position, seeing in what strength the

various loopholed houses were held, until at last he came to the lowest

line, a deep trench with a high embankment, and salients thrown out to

take any attacking force in flank. Here, as everywhere, he was

questioned; but always replied that, as far as he knew, it had been a

sudden panic, possibly an attempt by the Christinos to draw their

attention to that point while an attack was made below. He therefore

enjoined them to be on their guard. He sallied out at an opening in one

of the angles made for the outlying pickets to run in, if attacked. He

now proceeded very cautiously, and a hundred yards down he saw two

figures ahead of him. He walked up to them.

"Is all well?" he asked.

"Everything is quiet in front of us," the men said, "as far as we have

heard. But some thought that they heard heavy bodies of men marching

this way."

"I am going out some little distance to find out. Be sure that you

don't fire at me as I come back."

Without waiting for an answer he went on. He heard one say to the

other: "He talks queerly; didn't you notice it?"

"Yes, I thought his language seemed strange. But, you see, he did not

speak in Basque, and we don't know much Spanish. Anyhow, we cannot do

anything now. We will question him when he comes back again."

Highly satisfied with his success, Arthur walked on until he was

challenged by a sentry ahead. He answered in English "A friend!", for

he detected at once that the challenger belonged to the Legion.

"And who are you at all?" came from the sentry.

"I am one of your officers," he said. "Lieutenant Hallett. I have been

in the Carlist camp."

"Come on, then, and let's have a look at ye. It is a mighty noise that

they have been makin' up there."

"Yes; they have been having a scrimmage among themselves." He had now

come up to the sentry.

"Well, sor, I can't see yes," the man said; "but it is clear that you

are English, and that is good enough for me. Whether you are Lieutenant

Hallett or not, I don't know; but I shouldn't be any wiser if I did see

you, seeing that I don't know the gentleman. There are half a dozen of

the boys down the hill with the sergeant at that house you can just make

out fifty yards away. You had best go down to them and explain."

"All right, and good-night!" and Arthur walked on.

Arthur was passed without difficulty through the outposts, and when he

reached the town he found that Sebastian had already returned to his own

quarters.

"My dear friend," the latter exclaimed, springing to his feet, "I am

delighted to see you. I have been in a terrible state of alarm as to

your safety. I had just whispered to my cousin who I was, when there

was a sudden uproar, and many of the guests ran out of the room

suddenly. I looked round in vain for you. There was a general

confusion, and five or six minutes later there was the sound of heavy

firing, and all the rest of the guests made off in a great hurry. Of

course I went out too, and waited till some of the company came back.

None of them seemed to know exactly what had happened, but all were of

opinion that a spy of some sort had been discovered at the wedding. He

had been pursued, had run down through the lines, and a heavy fire had

been opened upon him, and none doubted but that he was killed.

Curiously enough, the men of the second line of defences had opened fire

on those in the upper one. Why, no one knew. It could only be supposed

that they believed that a Christino force had captured the upper line of

trenches. I did not stop to hear later news, but made off to the boat

in hopes of finding you there. I waited a quarter of an hour, as you

told me, and then got in and floated down the river. I could not keep

her to one side, as you did, and found that it was better to let her go

as she liked. Fortunately there was such a stir in the Carlist camp

that I passed down the river unobserved, and managed with a good deal of

difficulty to get the boat ashore here. I have been back now about half

an hour."

"Well, I managed to get through without much difficulty," Arthur said,

"and found out a good deal about their defences."

"Now, you had better have a glass of wine and a piece of bread. That is

all I can offer you. But as I suppose you did not get any refreshments

up there, you must be hungry."

Arthur remained for half an hour, and then left. On the following

morning he went after breakfast to his colonel, and told him of the

adventure of the previous evening.

"You have done wonderfully well, Hallett, and the information you have

gained will be of the greatest importance to us. You had better come

across with me to the general at once."

The colonel at first went in alone, but presently he came out again and

called Arthur in. "So you have been into the Carlist lines, Mr.

Hallett?" the general said. "It was a very plucky action. Please tell

me all about it."

Arthur related how, when a Spanish officer had said that he should like

to go to the wedding of a cousin, the idea had struck him that if he

accompanied him he might obtain some information as to the Carlist

lines, and so had encouraged him in the project. He had intended to

slip away unnoticed, but unfortunately he was betrayed, as soon as he

entered the room, by the loss of a portion of his moustache. He then

recounted the whole adventure, and handed in a full report of the

Carlist defences which he had that morning written.

The general looked through it. "This is of the greatest importance to

us, Mr. Hallett. It is the first authentic information we have received

of the position and strength of their lines, and will be of the utmost

utility when we attack them, which we shall do before many days. You

have certainly used your eyes to advantage. I shall study your report

at leisure, and it will be of the greatest use to me in making my

dispositions for the attack. I shall certainly not forget the service

you have rendered us. It shows that you have a head to plan, and

courage and determination to carry your ideas into effect. It shows

also that you have made the best use of your time, and have acquired a

sufficient knowledge of Spanish to be able to pass as a Spaniard in a

short conversation. You have done very well, sir; very well, indeed!

And if you go on as you have begun, will certainly rise in the

profession you have chosen."

Arthur retired much gratified by the general's commendation. When he

told his adventure to his comrades they could at first hardly believe

it, until the colonel himself mentioned the fact, and held Arthur up as

an example of what even a young officer could accomplish if he chose to

go out of the beaten path to devote himself to the study of a language,

and to keep his eyes open and take advantage of any opportunity that

might present itself. He charged them, however, to say nothing of this

outside the regiment, for San Sebastian was full of spies; and if it

were known that a British officer had made his way through their lines,

they might set to work and make such alterations in their dispositions

as would altogether destroy the result of Arthur's observations.

Several of the young officers took resolutions to follow Arthur's

example and begin the study of Spanish forthwith, but the greater

portion said that the chance would probably never occur again, and that

it was not worth while to work like niggers when the odds were so great

against any good coming from it.

Already, indeed, the greater proportion of officers in the Legion had

made up their minds to return home at the expiration of the two years

for which they had been sworn in. The treatment the Legion had

received--the unnecessary hardships they had to encounter, the breach of

faith of the Spanish government in not supplying them with food and

keeping them for months in arrear with their pay, and thereby causing a

loss of more than a third of their number before they had fired a

shot--had sickened them of the whole business. They were ready to

fight, but they were not prepared to starve; and had ships of war come

to take them home, they would have accepted their release with joy. But

few of them had enlisted because they had any great interest in the

cause of Queen Isabella. They had joined the Legion from the love of

adventure and excitement, so dominant in every Englishman. The six

months of delay and neglect had roughly disillusioned them, and most of

them regretted bitterly the comfortable homes and the many pleasures

they had left behind them. Nevertheless, for the moment they were

satisfied. Their sufferings and those of their men had been quickly

forgotten, for they had the enemy in front of them, and it was certain

that before very long there would be a great fight; and none felt much

doubt that, in spite of the strength of the Carlist position, and the

number of its defenders, they should get the better of the Spaniards

when they came to close quarters.

The prevailing sentiment was: "The beggars have never fought well

against either the French or us, and it is not likely that they will

begin now. They seem to have fought fairly sometimes against each

other, but that is quite a different thing from fighting against us.

They are only half-drilled, and our fellows now are almost as well

drilled as our line. They don't look much, poor chaps! but they will

fight. They are put in the humour for it, and would go at the

Christinos just as readily as at the Carlists. They have come to the

conclusion that Spaniards are brutes, and the recollection of what they

have suffered at their hands will make them fight furiously. It was just

the same thing in the Peninsular War. The Spaniards never kept their

promises, and our fellows were starving when their men had an abundance

of everything. The result was that our troops hated them infinitely

worse than the French, and behaved like demons at the capture of Badajos

and Ciudad Rodrigo."

The month's stay at San Sebastian did wonders for the Legion. The

sailors in our warships, who were filled with pity and horror when they

embarked at Santander, never came on shore without bringing presents of

tobacco and portions of their own rations for them. The shops were well

supplied, and the small amount of pay that the men had received enabled

them to buy many little luxuries. As the Legion was at the time supreme

there, General Evans was enabled to obtain from the stores a fair amount

of food, and the men speedily recovered from the effects of starvation

and illness. At last all the preparations were made. From the manner

in which the staff-officers rode to and fro with orders, the serving out

of ball-cartridge, and other preparations, it became evident that the

time for attack was approaching, and the troops rejoiced that they were

at last to be called upon to play their part as men.

*CHAPTER IV*

*THE FIRST FIGHT*

For some days previous to the 5th of May, plans had been formed for an

attack on the enemy's lines. The Carlists had a double line of

fortifications. The first of these was half a mile from San Sebastian,

and on the heights behind were numerous others, formed principally of

steep banks or deep lanes, and breastworks of earth. Behind these, and

separated by deep hollows, were other heights similarly fortified but

more strongly entrenched, and armed with several batteries. The main

road from San Sebastian to Aranez ran through the ground, and was

strongly barricaded at various points.

The general's force consisted of five thousand British and fifteen

hundred Spanish. All his own troops had not yet come up, and more

Spanish troops from Santander were expected; but the general, having

seen the manner in which Cordova mismanaged matters, and not being able

to depend upon him as a tactician, determined to attack by himself. The

evening before the attack was to be made, the various commanding

officers addressed the men. All was bustle that night. By three

o'clock the whole of the troops moved out of the town. The Light

Brigade, under General Reid, consisting of the Rifles, the 3rd, and an

irregular Spanish corps called the Chapelgorris, advanced against the

enemy's lines near the river. The Irish Brigade, consisting of the 9th,

10th, and 11th under General Shaw, moved against the centre. General

Chichester's brigade, comprising that morning the 1st, two companies of

the 8th, and eight hundred Spaniards--the 4th, with the remainder of the

8th belonging to this brigade, not being yet landed--attacked the left

of the enemy's lines.

The three forces had marched together as far as the convent of St.

Bartholemy, and there separated in the directions they were to take.

The officers were all on foot, for over such ground it was impossible to

advance on horseback. Two hundred yards in front of the convent lay the

Carlist pickets, but so noiselessly were the operations carried out that

the various divisions reached the posts assigned to them undiscovered.

As Arthur marched along in the darkness he gave a hand in passing to

Roper. "Good-bye, old fellow!" he said, "if we are not to meet again;

but we may hope to do so in the morning." A squeeze of the hand was

exchanged, and he passed on.

It was an anxious time. The red glare of the enemy's picket-fires could

be seen in the distance. The morning was dark and wet, and there was

perfect stillness as they took up the places assigned to them. Suddenly

a Carlist gave a shout of "Qui vive!", which was answered by a shot from

one of the Chapelgorris; then there was a shout of "Forward!"

Instantly volleys broke out from the various Carlist pickets. General

Evans was in front of the advancing line. His orders were that the men

were not to fire, but to advance well up and then charge. The first

houses were cleared, and the out-pickets driven in. Then, for daylight

was now breaking, the troops began to see the formidable nature of the

work before them. The 7th Irish advanced almost without firing a shot.

Volley after volley was poured into them, and though they dropped fast,

they went steadily on with their colonel at their head. Sweeping

forward, they gained the long building called the Windmill Battery,

though five hundred Carlists garrisoned the loopholes. A great number

of the enemy fell in and about these houses, refusing to surrender as

prisoners, but fighting to the last till they were finally driven out.

As General Evans came up to them he exclaimed to the 7th, "You are doing

nobly, Irishmen!"

On the enemy's right equally severe fighting was carried on; and while

the 7th carried the Windmill Battery, the Light Brigade succeeded in

establishing themselves near, and driving the enemy from other posts of

similar description.

Colonel Tupper was shot through the arm while gallantly leading his

regiment, but, lest his officers and men should be discouraged, he threw

his cloak around him to hide it, and held on with his regiment two hours

longer. When he was again facing a heavy fire, he was shot through the

head. On the left, the 1st and two companies of the 8th, under General

Chichester, assisted in the assault, but without much help from the

Spanish regiments. Colonel Fortescue, of the Rifles, was very

conspicuous, being frequently engaged hand-to-hand with the Carlists;

cutting his way through bushes, over walls and other obstacles, and

dragging his men through when they were sinking in the dirt and mud.

The 7th and 9th were repulsed three separate times, but a party of the

10th came up and joined them, led by Colonel Fitzgerald. A stone wall

was in front of them, and over this Colonel Fitzgerald sprang with a

riding-whip in his hand. Volley after volley was poured upon them, and

the men fell as fast as they got over. All the officers who crossed the

wall with him fell, but he stood still and ordered his men to come on.

His last words were heard by an Irishman, who sprang over the wall

saying, "Ye'll not die by yerself, old Charlie!"

There was a rush by the others, and the position was won. The second

line of defences had now given way, the only position of importance

remaining being the fort of Lugariz. Here the enemy were massed. Men

tried to climb up the slippery slope to its foot, but fell or slipped

back again. Until nine o'clock the troops were baffled. At this moment

the two vessels with the 4th and 8th entered the bay. The boats were

instantly launched and the men brought ashore. As they landed they

threw their knapsacks down on the sand. The two ships of war opened a

storm of ball and shell at the fort. Colonel Godfrey, as soon as he

arrived with the two regiments, at once rushed into the thick of the

combat. The batteries continued to fire until they were at the foot of

the wall. A breach was made and the troops rushed in, but the Carlists

for a time still kept up a heavy musketry fire from the rear.

The 3rd made at the same time a determined charge on a fort that had

been resolutely defended for a long time. The fight here was very stiff.

Fortescue and Swan were both wounded, and Brigadier Reid was shot

through the breast. Fourteen field-officers and captains, and double

that number of subalterns, were either killed or wounded.

At last all opposition ceased. The Carlists drew off sullenly. The

bugles rang out the recall, and the scattered and exhausted troops

gathered together in regiments. They had good reason to be proud of

themselves. Older soldiers could not have fought more bravely than

these men, none of whom had been under fire before. The 6th and 7th

Regiments suffered the greatest loss, the number of killed and wounded

amounting to more than a quarter of their entire strength. The total

loss was seventy-five officers and eight hundred and forty-eight

privates. Many of the wounded died after the engagement. Four pieces

of artillery were taken.

When the fight was over, Arthur Hallett leant against a wall panting and

exhausted. It seemed to him almost like a dream, and he could hardly

believe that he had come through the desperate struggle without a

scratch. Excepting only when for a time it was brought to a stand-still

by Fort Lugariz, the regiment had been incessantly fighting. Now

pushing forward, now falling back, now broken up into parties, now

gathering together again; sometimes loading and firing as quickly as

possible at the walls and houses, from which flashed shot as quickly in

return; then dashing over walls and across gardens, storming houses, and

driving all before them. There had been an anxious time when they could

not struggle up to the foot of the fort, but were forced to lie quiet,

to shield themselves as they best could from the fire from its summit

until the vessels of war beat down an angle of the wall to make an

entrance.

It seemed to him well-nigh impossible that he could have come out of the

turmoil alive. He was soon, however, aroused. The bugles were ringing

out, and the unwounded men formed up in order that their names could be

taken, after which the work of collecting the wounded began in earnest.

"I am glad to see you have come out all right, Hallett," Captain Buller

said. "Poor Prince is killed, and I should think pretty nearly half the

company. It is the sharpest fight I ever went through. If it had been

much sharper there would not have been anyone left to tell the story."

"I am sorry to see that you are hurt, sir."

"My wound is not serious; it was a thrust with a bayonet through the

arm. However, I have got my majority. You had got five or six steps

before, owing to men being sent home. I should think there must be at

least seven or eight vacancies now among the lieutenants. One's only

consolation is that it is an ill wind that blows no one good."

As soon as the roll was called, the work of carrying down the wounded

began, and Arthur had time to go and look for Roper. To his great

satisfaction he found that he also was uninjured. They exchanged a

hearty hand-shake.

"We are very fortunate to have both got through it, Roper."

"I am glad indeed," the other said. "I wondered several times how you

were faring, but there was very little time for thinking."

"No; we must talk it over with each other when we have leisure. We must

help to get all these poor fellows down before we can think of anything

else. Well, it is satisfactory that we have had a good fight at last.

I had begun to have great doubts whether we were ever going to fight at

all."

"Yes; they cannot say any more that the Legion is of no use for

fighting. It has been our first chance, and I think we have made the

most of it."

Then they separated; and it was late in the afternoon before the work of

collecting all the wounded was finished. In the meantime a number of

townspeople had been hired to dig graves, and by nightfall all the dead

were buried. Some of the troops slept on the ground they had won, the

rest marched down into the town; rations were served out, and as soon as

these were cooked and eaten all went to sleep. Arthur's regiment was one

of those that remained on the hill, and the officers all gathered in one

of the houses that had been carried by storm. The bodies of the dead

Carlists had been carried out, and fires had been lighted. After they

had eaten a meal, Arthur and two other officers started on the rounds to

see that the watch were vigilant, for the Carlists had not fallen back

far, and might at any moment make an attempt to recover the lost ground.

Each of them had two orderlies, and these carried lanterns. The night

was dark, and it was next to impossible to make their way about over the

broken ground, which was still thickly strewn with dead Carlists. They

were heartily glad when, an hour later, they were gathered by the fire.

As they would have to turn out again in another hour they agreed that it

was of no use to sleep, and they chatted in low tones of the events of

the day. All agreed that it had been worse than they had expected, and

that the enemy had fought with great bravery.

"They are sturdy fellows and not to be despised," a captain said. "I

certainly did not think they would fight so well. If they had fought

like that against the French there would have been no occasion for us to

send an army to help them. However, we have a right to be proud of the

Legion; they have done gallantly. It is a pity that we have lost

something like three thousand men by sickness. It would have made a

vast difference if we had had our full force here."

"Anyhow, it was lucky," Arthur said, "that the other two regiments came

up in the middle of it, for they had fairly brought us to a stand-still.

Well, I suppose it is time for us to turn out again. At any rate it is

a consolation that we shall get some sleep to-morrow."

Next day the general sent for Arthur. "I must thank you again," he

said, "for the information you gained for us, Mr. Hallett. But for it I

don't think we should have managed to win our way so far, for we learnt

from it the weak and the strong points, and were able to take several of

their most formidable redoubts, which would otherwise, I think, have

been more than we could manage. I shall have pleasure in mentioning

your name in my report of the action, and shall remember you if anyone

is wanted for special service."

"Thank you, sir! I can assure you that I have never thought of such a

thing, and only carried out my plan in the hope that I might gain some

information which would be useful to you when the time came to attack.

I have already been extremely fortunate in obtaining a commission

although altogether without interest, and can only hope that in future I

may again be able in some way to be of use to you."

Arthur afterwards went to have a chat with Roper. "Well, Roper, we have

had our first battle; what did you think of it?"

"I had no time to think about it at all. It was just load and fire, and

'Go at them, lads!', then falling back, and then trying again. It was

certainly a good deal worse than I had expected. I don't think that I

was frightened. My one idea was that I wanted to get at them."

"That is a good deal like what I felt, Roper. I know I wondered

occasionally that I lived through such a storm of musket balls.

Sometimes it seemed as if nothing could exist in it."

"All the time I was astonished at the courage the Carlists showed. We

had so made up our minds that they would not stand against us for a

moment that I was quite taken aback when I found that they were fighting

just as hard as ourselves."

"Not quite so hard, Roper," Arthur said. "They fought hard, I admit,

but when we got among them with the bayonet we always had the best of

it. The beggars could stand bullets, but they did not like steel."

"We lost heavily, sir."

"I am sorry to say that we did. We lost particularly heavily among the

officers."

"Yes, sir. Everyone was saying how gallantly they showed the way. I

hardly expected some of them to do so well. Of course one has no means

of knowing; but there is a sort of general idea that an officer who

doesn't look after his men, or seem to take any interest in them, is not

the sort of fellow who would lead them well in a fight."

"I don't see why that should be so, Roper. A man may be very

kind-hearted, and yet not extraordinarily plucky; while, on the other

hand, a pretty hard sort of man may have any amount of courage."

"I suppose that is so, sir; but somehow one seems to think that a man

who is a good fellow one way will be a good fellow another."

When off duty some of the officers would often go out for a sail, and

one day four of his friends asked Arthur to accompany them.

"I don't think the weather looks very settled," he said; "still, there

mayn't be any change till we are back. Anyhow, I am ready to go."

"That is right. You know you understand managing a boat, and that is

more than can be said for the rest of us. We don't propose to be out

more than two or three hours.

"Well, it makes a change, anyhow. After drill is over, there is little

enough to do in the town till the evening; it is all right then. The

better class seem to sleep during the day; at any rate, they don't show

outside their houses. And though they are friendly enough when you meet

them on the promenade, they are very chary of asking you to call, or

anything of that sort, except when they have regular receptions."

Accordingly they went down and hired a boat, and put out. A sail was

hoisted, and as the wind was dead behind them they ran out merrily.

They passed within a quarter of a mile of the men-of-war.

"There is a man on that ship waving his arms and shouting," Arthur said.

"I rather think he is shouting to us."

"No; I expect he is shouting to someone on the other ship," one of the

others replied.

[Illustration: "A SAIL WAS HOISTED AND THEY RAN OUT MERRILY"]

They thought no more of it, and kept their course. When they had gone

five miles Arthur said: "I think we had better be making for home again.

We shall have to beat all the way, and the wind is freshening; besides,

I don't like the look of the clouds coming up over the hills."

The others, who were enjoying themselves, said: "Oh, we will go a bit

farther; it would be a pity to cut our trip short."

They held on for another couple of miles, and then Arthur said: "I am

sure we had better turn. You hardly recognize how hard the wind is

blowing; we are running before it, and she keeps on an even keel. You

will find matters altogether different when we have once put about."

"Well, turn if you like, Hallett. It really seems a pity."

"Well, before I bring her into the wind we had better let the sail run

down and put two reefs into it. I fancy we shall have to reef it close

down before we have done."

The others saw by the serious expression on Arthur's face that he was

thoroughly in earnest, and they lowered the sail and reefed it. As soon

as this was done, Arthur put the helm down and the boat came up into the

wind. As she did so, she heeled over so far that one or two of the

others grasped the gunwale, fearing that she was going over.

"She is all right at present," Arthur said, as she started off on her

new course; "but I wish we were five miles nearer the land. I can see

she won't look up very near the wind, and we shall have a long beat

before we get in."

Half an hour later the sail was close-reefed, but even under this small

spread of canvas she heeled over till her lee-rail was close to the

water.

"You were right, Hallett, and we were fools not to follow your advice,"

one of the others said. "I don't know much about sailing, but I

understand enough to see that we have a very tough job before us; and

the wind is getting stronger every moment."

Five minutes later Arthur said: "There is a black squall coming across

the water. We had better lower the sail altogether till it has passed.

I have no very strong hopes, however, that it will be over for some

time. There is no break in the clouds, and I have quite lost sight of

the shore."

His advice was taken. The mast was lowered and the sail rolled up, and

two officers got out oars.

"You had better get them all out," Arthur said; "it is as much as we

shall be able to do to keep her head to the storm. Now, all row quietly.

The squall will be on us in a couple of minutes; when it comes, you will

have to put your whole strength into it. It is fortunate that I am

steering with this short oar. If she had had a rudder we should never

have kept her straight, for she will be hardly moving through the

water."

There was a sudden splash of rain, then a pause, and then it came down

in bucketfuls, while the wind literally howled. For a time the exertions

of the four rowers, and of Arthur at the steering oar, kept her head

straight; but after a quarter of an hour the rowers, unaccustomed to

prolonged exertions, began to flag. Arthur changed places with the

stroke-oar, and the boat again made a little way; but the advantage

gained by his strength was more than counterbalanced by the want of

skill of the helmsman, and at the end of five minutes' rowing the boat's

head fell off, and the wind caught it and whirled it round.

"Oars in!" Arthur shouted. "I will take the helm again. You four had

better sit down in the bottom of the boat. A big sea will be getting up

very soon."

"How long is it going to last?" Sinclair said, when they had all

crouched at the bottom of the boat.

"It may last two or three days, and the wind could not be in a worse

quarter. If it shifts, we might make either the coast of Spain or

France; but it is a south-easter, and will blow us right out into the

bay. It is lucky you brought those two bottles of wine and that loaf of

bread with you; we shall want them badly before we see land again. I

wish to goodness we had run in to that man-of-war. I have no doubt at

all now that the man was hailing us, and that they were going to caution

us against going out farther. However, wishing is useless; we have got

to grin and bear it."

"We were fools not to take your advice earlier, Hallett."

"I don't think it would have made much difference," Arthur said. "If we

had turned then, we could not have got back before the squall struck us,

and we should have been blown out just as we have been now."

He was now sitting in the bottom of the boat also, still holding the

steering oar. There was, however, but little to do with it, the boat

was running straight before the wind.

"What pace do you think we are going through the water?" Sharman

shouted, for they could scarcely hear each other speak.

"About six or seven knots, I should say."

"Then if it goes on for three days we shall be something like five

hundred miles out?"

Arthur nodded. "I hope it won't keep on blowing as long as that.

Besides, there may be some shift in the wind that would enable us to

make either France or Spain. If not, we have only one chance, and that

is, we may be picked up by some passing ship."

There was little more talk. They were all sitting close together in the

stern, as Arthur said that by so doing the greater draught aft would

enable the boat to keep her course dead before the wind without

steering. Each felt that it was more cheerful being thus close

together, even if there was nothing to talk about.

Sinclair proposed that they should have a little wine to warm

themselves, but Arthur at once said: "We must not think of such a thing.

We have all had breakfast, and it must last us till to-morrow morning.

We may have to eke out the wine for a fortnight; those two bottles are

of vital importance to us. As long as it keeps on raining we shall not

suffer from thirst. By the way, it would be a good plan to shake out

the sail and spread it on the seats with the oars over it, lashed into

their places by the sheet. In that way we shall be able to catch the

water that runs off it in the baler."

"There is a lot in the bottom."

"Yes, but it is principally sea-water. You had better shift a bit

forward. The waves are beginning to break over her stern, and we must

keep her more on an even keel."

Night came on. The gale was blowing with unabated force, and the sea

was high, but the boat rode easily over it, for she was a large craft,

and would have required double the number on board to take her down to

her bearings. Fortunately the water was warm, so that while there was

not a dry thread on them, they did not suffer from cold. As night came

on, they rearranged their sail. They put one of the stretchers across

the boat with its ends resting on the gunwale some five feet from the

bow. The oars were lashed to this, sloping downward into the bottom of

the boat, and over them the sail was fastened, thus making a sort of

tent sufficiently large for them all to lie under. All were worn out by

the buffeting of the wind, and in spite of the tossing of the boat, the

hardness of the boards, and their drenched clothes, they fell asleep

before long.

Morning was breaking when they awoke, and there was no change, except

that the sea was running much higher. The first thing they did was to

bale out the boat. Then a bottle was opened, and a little wine measured

out carefully into the wine-glass that had been brought on board. The

loaf of bread had been placed in a locker. This had fortunately kept

dry. A slice of it was cut off and divided into five portions. It was

but a meagre breakfast, but all felt better after it. Pipes and cigars

were then lighted, and they began to talk.

"What chance do you think there is of a vessel picking us up, Hallett?"

"I really can't say; but there ought to be a fair chance if the wind is

blowing in the same direction as when we started. It would take us out,

I should think, pretty well into the course of ships going south. There

are, besides, vessels making for Bordeaux and other French ports. It

will be hard if we don't run across some of them; and as we have four

oars and a sail we should be able to cut them off as they come in. Yes,

I think our chances are good. But even now one of us ought always to

keep on watch."

The rain had ceased falling, but the air was still thick, and heavy

clouds were passing overhead. At one o'clock, however, these began to

break, and two hours later the sun shone out brightly.

"That is a comfort," Arthur said. "In the first place it will dry us,

in the second place it will cheer us, and in the third it will enable us

to see a long way."

He stood up and looked round. "I can see nothing at present," he said.

"It is only when we get on the top of a wave that we can see any

distance."

About five o'clock in the evening they made out a sail, but it was a

long way off, and was already to the west of them; and it was seen at

once that it would be absolutely useless to try and row after the ship,

as she was running rapidly along, although under a very small amount of

canvas. Still, the sight of the vessel cheered them. They had seen

one, and there was no reason why they should not see more. They now

knew that the wind was blowing more from the south than it had done, and

that they were therefore running to the north. This was an advantage,

for they would be making rather towards than away from the French coast,

and, when the wind fell, might hope to reach it.

The next morning the wind had dropped a good deal. The day was bright

and clear, and they allowed themselves a double portion of wine and

bread. Then they got the mast up, undid the lashings of the sail, and

hoisted it half-way up, making holes in the canvas by which they could

put an extra reef in. Under this very reduced canvas they were able to

sail comfortably, though all of them had to sit up to windward. The

wind had come still more round to the west of south, so they were able

to lay their course due east.

"How far are we off land, do you think, Hallett?"

"Well, we have been about sixty-six hours out. By the course we ran the

first twenty-four, we made, at six knots an hour, about a hundred and

forty-four miles, which would put us, I should say, something like

seventy to the nearest point of France. The next twenty-four hours we

were running nearly north, so during that time we must have kept about

the same distance from the coast. Last night we must have been

approaching rather than running away from it. Well, we are now going

about four knots through the water. If the wind falls more, and we can

put up more sail, we shall walk along a little faster; but until the sea

goes down, I don't think we can calculate upon making above five knots.

But if we are now, as I suppose, nearly in a line with the mouth of the

Loire, we may not be more than thirty or forty miles from the shore;

for, although I don't pretend to be particularly well up in geography, I

know that the French coast runs out a good deal west till it gets to

Brest."

At twelve o'clock Sinclair stood up and looked round. "I can make out a

dark line," he said, "over there to the left; it looks to me like land.

We should have seen it before but for the sail."

Arthur was as usual steering, but the others all went forward to have a

look, and Sinclair took the helm for a minute to allow him to do so.

"That is land certainly," he said. "I should say that it is stretching

out towards Brest; but I think we had better keep straight on. It may

take us a few more hours to get to shore, but it would save us a lot of

travelling if we were to strike the mouth of the Loire instead of Brest.

At any rate we are safe now, and can venture upon a slice of bread each

and a full glass of wine--a glass and a half in fact; that will still

leave us with half a bottle for breakfast to-morrow morning. We may

fairly calculate upon being close to land by that time."

The others were rather in favour of running to the land they saw.

"Well, look here," Arthur said: "don't you think that it would be a

great deal easier to travel a hundred miles in this boat than to tramp

the same distance? Besides, the coast, I believe, is very rocky all the

way along there, and we might find a difficulty in landing. My own idea

is, that when we do make land, we must go ashore and find out where we

are, lay in a good stock of provisions, and start south again. With the

wind as it is now, we could very nearly lie our course, and we could

certainly do so if the wind goes round a point or two farther. I don't

know what money you fellows have, but I have only a dollar or two in my

pocket."

All examined their store, and the total only amounted to thirteen

dollars.

"Thirteen dollars would go no distance towards taking us down through

France. It would not pay for a conveyance a quarter of the distance, to

say nothing about food. Even if we walked it, it would hardly pay for

our bread and cheese, and we should have to sleep in the open. Then,

too, we might have a deal of difficulty in getting into Spain without

passports; and if we did get in we should find it almost impossible to

make our way to San Sebastian, as several places on the frontier are in

the hands of the Carlista. Therefore I shall certainly stick to the

boat. If you prefer to tramp you can do so; but I know that before you

have gone more than a day's march, you will begin to feel very sorry

that you did not take my advice."

"There is a lot in what you say, Hallett," Sharman said, "and I for one

shall certainly stick to it."

The others at once agreed to the idea. Arthur, being the only one who

knew anything of sailing, had throughout the voyage acted as captain,

and the fact that he had carried them through the storm safely had given

the others great confidence in him.

"I should say," Arthur went on, "that when we make land we may as well

stop for twenty-four hours. The people will probably treat us

hospitably as shipwrecked mariners, and put us up and feed us. We shall

all be glad of twenty-four hours' rest; and by the time we are ready to

start again, the sea will have gone down, and we shall set out like

lions refreshed. With a wind anywhere north of east or west, we shall

be able to lie our course comfortably; and even if the wind is light we

ought to make eighty or a hundred miles a day, and three days will take

us easily to San Sebastian."

The sun was just setting when they saw land ahead of them, and by ten

o'clock they were close to it, and could make out that it was either an

island, or a cape running out into the sea. They sailed to the north

side of it. The sea was smooth, so, running the boat ashore, they got

out on to a low beach. Walking inland for some distance they threw

themselves down in a field, and as the ground was soft in comparison

with the boards at the bottom of the boat, they were very soon sound

asleep. In the morning they finished the loaf and the wine, and then

returned to the beach. Ascending some rising ground, they saw that half

a mile along the shore there was a village standing at some little

distance from the sea. Towards this place, therefore, they made their

way.

As they entered the village they were regarded with looks of

astonishment by the natives. They were not in uniform, but their

clothes had shrunk considerably in their long drenching. Sharman had

lost his cap. All looked faded and bedraggled, and three days' short

rations had left its mark on their faces. Sinclair fortunately spoke a

little French, and was able to make the villagers understand that they

had been blown off the coast of Spain in a storm, and had landed late

the previous evening half a mile away. The cures of the village at once

took them in, and in a short time they sat down to a hearty meal, to

which they did full justice. They told the cure that they intended to

start next morning to sail down the coast, and learned from him that the

place where they had landed was the island of St. Nazaire, and that they

were some twenty miles from the mainland.

"I think you could not do better than sail along the coast," he said.

"Once you make the mainland you will find villages and little ports at

short distances. At these you can buy anything you want. Of course you

will always keep within sight of land, except when you cross the mouth

of the Gironde. I don't know how you are off for money, gentlemen, but I

shall be happy to supply you with some, which you can send to me when

you have an opportunity."

"We are very much obliged to you, sir," Sinclair said, "but we have

thirteen dollars between us, which will buy us an ample supply of things

for our voyage. We do not intend to land, but shall sail on night and

day. Two of us are quite sufficient to manage the boat, and we can

sleep by turns."

"Thirteen dollars will be quite enough if you have fine weather and fair

winds, but it would not go far if you have to stop."

"I don't think there is any fear of bad winds. There would hardly be

two storms one after another at the end of the month of May; but indeed

I do not think we should run short of money were we to be eight or nine

days on the voyage. The wine is only, I suppose, about sixpence a litre,

and if we reckon a litre a day each of wine, and allow half a franc each

for bread and as much for meat, our victuals will only cost us a dollar

and a half a day, and we could treat ourselves to a franc's worth of

fruit and still have enough money to last us a week."

The priest smiled. "Well, sir, at that rate you can no doubt do it

comfortably, and I admit that your thirteen dollars will be ample if you

make the run in five days, which you certainly will do, unless you get

the wind right in your teeth."

They dined at the priest's house, and he provided beds for two of them,

and found accommodation for the others in some of the cottages. They

did their shopping that afternoon, and arranged to start at daybreak the

next morning. This they succeeded in doing, after thanking the good

priest very heartily for his hospitality. Many of the villagers had

been down on the previous day to look at the boat that had lived through

such a gale, and some of the others had now come to see them off. They

headed east so as to make the shore as soon as possible, for they agreed

that as they would have nothing to guide them in case of thick weather

coming on, it was best to make the mainland, and then follow it down at

a distance of a mile or so. The wind was blowing now from the north

west, and, spreading their full canvas, they ran down rapidly past the

island, and three hours after saw the French coast ahead.

They were now in high spirits. They had made a wonderful voyage, and

were able to chat gaily over the talk there would be at San Sebastian

concerning their disappearance.

"I only hope there won't be another fight before we are back," Arthur

said; "that would be horribly annoying. If I were certain of that, I

should feel quite happy over our adventure."

The weather continued fine throughout their voyage. The wind was

somewhat light, but sufficient to take them along at between four and

five miles an hour, and on the evening of the third day after starting

they saw the highlands of Spain rising in front of them. On the

following morning they ran into the harbour of San Sebastian, where they

were hailed as if returning from the grave by their companions, who had

given them up for lost.

"We certainly should have been, if it hadn't been for Hallett," Sinclair

said. "He kept his wits about him the whole time, got us to rig a

shelter, and stuck to the helm as long as steering could do us any

good."

The general himself sent for them and heard their account of the voyage.

"Well," he said, "all is well that ends well, and I congratulate you on

your marvellous escape. Moreover, you have lost nothing, for there has

been no more fighting since you left."

*CHAPTER V*

*A FURIOUS STRUGGLE*

The time passed slowly. Skirmishing went on constantly. Both parties

worked at their entrenchments. Shots were exchanged by the batteries

from time to time. The soldiers were in better spirits, as a certain

amount of the pay due was handed to them, and for a time even the

grumblers were contented. Drilling went on regularly, and was done

smartly and well. Sunday was the great day of the week. Spanish

colours were hoisted early, and cannon fired a salute. The church bells

began to ring, and every Spaniard, male and female, rich and poor,

started by six o'clock for the Cathedral, which was so crowded that very

many were forced to kneel outside on the plaza in front of it, the other

churches being all taken up as magazines and storehouses. At seven

o'clock the service was over, the shopkeepers began to open their

stores, and country people and others thronged the great square.

Although firing went on as usual, sports were held down on the sands.

When the market was cleared away, the plaza was soon filled with

dancers, principally girls, who danced to the guitar. In the crowd were

Spanish and English officers, grave dons, all the better class of the

town, the women in their black silk dresses and mantillas, peasants,

beggars, soldiers, and sailors. Many would stroll to the ramparts and

watch the firing till eight o'clock, at which hour the Spaniards all

went to bed, and the streets were quiet save for an occasional drunken

soldier and the patrol parties.

Then there was another long interval without pay, which caused serious

disaffection. Several of the regiments broke into open mutiny, and

absolutely refused either to obey orders or to leave their barracks.

Some of these mutinies lasted for a fortnight, and were caused partly by

want of pay and partly because many of the men believed that they had

enlisted only for a year, and, now that the period of their service was

drawing to an end, considered that ships should be arriving to take them

home.

The officers were greatly puzzled what to do. It was extremely doubtful

whether any of the regiments that were still obedient would, if called

upon to do so, fire upon the mutineers, and it was morally certain that

if they did so the disaffection would be so great that the whole Legion

would fall to pieces. The officers went about among the mutineers trying

to get them to return to their duty. Some of the regiments were

pacified by distributing small sums of money among them, others were

reduced by stopping the supply of all rations, and gradually things

settled down again.

The desultory fire that had been going on for so many weeks was

succeeded, on the 1st of October, by a series of attacks by the

Carlists.

Heavy firing broke out at three o'clock in the morning, shot after shot

falling in the town, and so well aimed were they that none doubted but

that the gunner was one John Wilson, a deserter from the Legion, who had

once been in the Royal Artillery. There had been many desertions from

time to time, and the Carlists were constantly shouting invitations to

our men to come over to them, promising them good pay and good

treatment--offers very enticing to men on small rations and no pay.

As the fire broke out columns of Carlist infantry advanced, driving the

pickets before them. Some of these threw themselves into houses, and

defended themselves against overwhelming numbers. The 3rd Regiment and

the Rifles were the first to reach the scene of action, many of them

running up in their shirts, or with their tunics all unbuttoned, having

leapt to their feet, seized their rifles, and hurried off without a

moment's delay. Drums were beating and bugles sounding all over the

town, the non-commissioned officers turning the men out as fast as they

could.

The officers were riding about and getting the men to fall in. As they

arrived they were formed up behind walls and other shelters. The 3rd

and the Rifles had checked the Carlist advance. As the 8th Regiment

formed up, a cannon shot from the Carlist fort on the Ametza Hill fell

close to a group of officers, many of whom were knocked down by the

stones thrown up, and then went through the column, killing one man and

knocking down half a dozen others. The men, however, laughed and joked

among themselves. The next ball went right through the horse of a

mounted officer, killed two soldiers behind him, and a woman who was out

looking for her husband's body, having just got news that he had been

killed.

Our artillery had now come on the scene, and, directed by Colonel

Colquhoun, an admirable and scientific officer, soon got the range. He

himself levelled one of the cannon at a column of Carlists a mile

distant. The ball burst just at the right moment and committed great

havoc, and the gunners of the other pieces in the battery, under his

instructions, opened such a terrible fire upon the column that it broke

and disappeared. He then laid three guns on the Ametza fort. They were

fired simultaneously, and to the delight of the soldiers they burst on

the parapet, carrying death and confusion among the gunners, and

killing, among others, the deserter who had given them so much trouble.

Up till ten o'clock the Carlists maintained the offensive, but at that

hour the Lancers came on to the field. They charged in gallant style on

the south-east side of the Ametza hill, and the Carlists gave way and

ran until they reached their breastworks. Here it was impossible for the

cavalry to follow, and they at once drew off under a very heavy fire.

They then charged again and again at the various parties scattered over

the plain, moving in as perfect order as if on parade, and doing great

execution. But for the fact that the Spanish entrenchments were so

extensive as to afford shelter for the scattered fugitives, the loss

inflicted upon them would have been extremely heavy.

The special object of the Carlist attack had been the village and fort

of Alza. This was defended by two Spanish regiments, one of the Legion,

and a battery, and these repelled the attack with great slaughter.

A dog belonging to the Legion, which had taken part in every fight,

always marching at the head of the regiment, distinguished himself

greatly in this battle. Strangely enough he never barked except in face

of the enemy. He had been twice wounded, and on this occasion, in

company with a Spanish friend of his own species, advanced and retreated

with the Lancers. They had gone on for some distance, where the balls

were flying thick, but during one advance the Spaniard tumbled over and

came back hopping on three feet. Briton looked back but would not

retreat, and stood barking his defiance at the enemy. Presently a ball

slightly wounded him in the throat. He returned to his companion, who

was hobbling away, and tried to turn him, and repeatedly offered to lead

another charge by advancing a short distance himself. Presently he got

another wound on the head. The men lying in shelter called to him, and

he came in and got his wound partially dressed, and then at once set off

again. His Spanish friend had in the meantime been killed, and Briton,

having in vain tried to make him rise, came back to the men and

endeavoured to get them to go out and carry his friend in.

The National Guard of San Sebastian turned out well. They had no regular

uniform, but carried a bandolier filled with cartridges, and their

rifles; and many of their women, who came out with the men, took shelter

in the woods and assisted in carrying in the wounded.

General Evans rode about with the greatest coolness through the heavy

fire, but although hundreds of bullets were aimed at him he was only hit

once through the ear.

So the fight continued all day until night put an end to it. No attempt

was made to storm the Spanish position. As General Evans mentioned in

his despatches, this could not have been effected without the loss of at

least five hundred men, and the capture of the entrenchments would have

been dear at the price.

After this battle there was an interval of quiet. Arrangements had been

made by General Evans with the Spanish commanders that he would not take

the offensive until they were ready to co-operate with him. The force

was therefore again set to work to entrench, and as the men received a

pint of wine and threepence three-farthings a day in addition to the

usual twopence halfpenny, the service was a very popular one. The extra

pay sufficed to keep the soldiers from grumbling, and the extra food

that they were able to purchase put them into better condition.

One of the well-known figures in the town was General Jauregui. He had

been in turn a shepherd, half-soldier, and half-guerrilla; but when the

war broke out he raised a body of volunteers for the queen, and soon

attained the rank of general. He was not liked by the officers under

him, many of whom were nobles, but he was beloved by his men. He had

many relations in the ranks, and was not ashamed to sit down and eat and

talk with them. He possessed the rare peculiarity in a Spaniard of

being fat.

Months passed; and not until the 9th of March did it become known that

the advance was to take place the next morning. No secret was made of

it, as the general's desire was that the Carlists should gather to

resist him, for he wished to strike a heavy blow. Each man was given a

peseta (equal to tenpence halfpenny) to buy tobacco and other

necessaries, and the shops of the town were crowded all day with British

soldiers. A good deal of the money was invested in chocolate, for it

was thought probable that the battle would last more than one day, in

which case rations would not be served out.

There was no going to bed that night. Fires were kept blazing

everywhere, and cooking-pots were hung over them. Extra flints were

served out, and new shoes for those in need of them, and men exchanged

with each other the addresses of their relations in order that news

might be sent to them if they were killed. All night the men sat and

joked, until an officer went round and ordered them to fall in quietly.

The Spanish regiments had already turned out and taken up their places,

some on the glacis and some in close column behind one of the batteries.

As day broke, the men were called to attention, and almost

simultaneously the batteries opened fire. A column marched against the

Ametza with such resolution that its garrison evacuated it hurriedly,

leaving many thousands of rounds of ammunition behind them. The

fighting was desperate all along the line. One rocky hill was taken and

retaken five times during the day. The terror of the scene was added to

by the fact that the furze on the hills caught fire from the explosion

of the shells, and many wounded were burned to death. Many of the

places were thickly dotted with the red coats of the Legion.

The fight continued all day, and the troops lay down and slept on the

ground they had won. Upwards of a thousand had fallen; and the Carlists

must have suffered much more severely, for they had been exposed to the

fire of artillery while they themselves had no guns in action. The next

day passed quietly, the artillerymen being occupied in getting their

guns up on to the height they had won. On the second day after the

battle, in spite of a pouring rain the advance began again. The

artillery cleared the way, turning the Carlists out of the houses they

occupied; the troops crossed the river by a bridge of boats, and moved

on without serious opposition, and were glad when the order came to halt

and occupy the houses of the deserted village.

A little beyond the village there was a hard fight the next day, but at

night the troops fell back to the houses they had occupied in the

morning. The rain still came down. On the following morning at twelve

it cleared. The Carlists lay concealed until the columns got very near

to them, and then opened a tremendous fire. At three o'clock the

engagement had become general. Some of the troops fired away all their

ammunition and then charged with the bayonet, before which weapon the

Carlists always fell back, although they would stand against the

heaviest musketry fire. The strongest point of defence of the Carlists

was the Venta Hill. Round this the battle raged all day, and in the

afternoon it was decided to make a final attempt to take it.

The 8th Regiment of the Legion was in camp, and was about to start on

the attack when General Evans rode up.

"You cannot go on with your one regiment, Colonel Hogg," he said; "there

will be some more up very shortly."

"Oh, allow me, general, to go on!" Colonel Hogg said. "I am sure we can

get through the breastwork;" and then, turning to the regiment, which

was in close column, said: "Men, would you rather go on by yourselves,

or wait for others to come on to help you? We have a chance here that

we will not divide with another regiment."

The men answered with a tremendous cheer.

"Go on, then, brave fellows!" General Evans said; and the regiment

advanced. The artillery were hard at work, and the scream of the

rockets sounded over the din of the musketry and guns. The regiment

with a loud cheer emerged from the cover which concealed them, and as

they did so a blaze of fire ran along all the enemy's defences. The

four mounted officers galloped at their head. Every man cheered as he

ran down into a road and then up again through hedges and across broken

ground. A storm of bullets swept through them, and the guns on the

heights played upon them with grape, but fortunately most of the

missiles went overhead. They reached the first barricade. The colonel

was the first to mount it, and some others climbed up; but the majority

were so out of breath with their shouting and the pace at which they had

run that they were forced to pause. The barricade was built of turf,

and was too steep to be climbed; but the men set to work to tear it down

with their hands, and soon made a passage through which they could pass.

There was no active opposition here, for our guns sent their shells so

thickly among the Carlists that it was impossible for them to withstand

them. As the 8th poured through, they found the ground nearly covered

with dead. The bugles now sounded a halt, but the men were not to be

restrained, and eagerly pressed forward till they reached the top of the

hill, which the Carlists had evacuated as they neared it. Here a

battery of four guns was taken, and the flag flying above them hauled

down. In the battery were found two barrels, one of wine and the other

of spirits, and a tremendous rush took place. While the men were

frantically fighting, there was an explosion and a shout of "There is a

mine underneath!", and a frightful rush to got away from the spot took

place. In the midst of this a soldier calmly walked forward and filled

his canteen and that of two of his comrades. This action considerably

reassured the others, and the panic soon abated when it was found that

there were no more explosions. It turned out afterwards that the man who

had shown such coolness had not been able to get near the casks, and had

quietly taken out some of his ammunition from his cartridge-box, laid it

on the ground under the feet of those fighting to get at the liquor, and

shaken out the fire from his pipe on to it. However, the contents of

the casks were soon finished. The regiment was then re-formed, and as

it was dark they lay down in the fields. They had won their way thus

far, but they had reached their limit.

The news of the fighting had been carried by active men all over the

country. It was evident that the farther advance of the Legion would

place them in possession of the main road to France, and reinforcements

were called up from all sides. Already Evans was opposed by a force far

more numerous than his own, and when the news of his advance arrived

every Carlist within fifty miles was on the road. Espartero, who was

with his army round Bilbao, had promised to march, and General

Saarsfield, who commanded another royal army, was also to have moved, so

as to occupy the enemy's attention, but neither had done so. The

Carlist army had been, a week before, withdrawn from before Saarsfield,

and during the night of the 15th, ten thousand men slipped away from the

force facing that of Espartero and crossed the mountains to assist their

friends.

Espartero himself had ridden, when he heard of the progress that Evans

was making, to see with his own eyes how matters were going on. The

fighting had again begun, and the Carlists had already been driven back

into the town of Hernani, when Don Sebastian, one of the sons of Carlos,

arrived with ten thousand infantry and three hundred cavalry. These

marched out, column after column, and the vast superiority of numbers

enabled them to not only show in force in face of the allied army, but

to threaten both its flanks. For a time the Legion and its Spanish

allies held their ground firmly, but they had considerably more than

twice their number opposed to them, and the flanks were gradually driven

in towards the centre. The Rifles, who were on one flank, had fought

with obstinate bravery; and on the other, two Irish regiments stubbornly

faced an overwhelming force of Carlists, and were engaged in a

hand-to-hand fight with them. Colonel Cotter, of the 9th Cork, was

conspicuous for his gallantry. Alone he rode repeatedly into the leading

Carlist ranks, until he was completely surrounded and fell fighting to

the last.

The 6th, 7th, and 8th Regiments, who were in reserve, were soon drawn

forward into the fight. The 6th were first called up. The whole of the

Carlist cavalry dashed forward to attack the leading company, which

alone was available to meet them, but were received with such a

tremendous volley that they were driven backward in great confusion,

with immense loss. Two howitzers of the Marine Artillery sent showers of

grape among them, and of the fine regiment which had advanced, a

shattered group of fugitives returned. The Carlists, working round,

threatened the artillery, and these were only saved by desperate charges

of the Lancers and the staunchness of two companies of the 6th. The

Spanish regiments fought but badly, and by their retreat exposed the

Legion to a heavy cross-fire, which compelled them to fall back. The

8th, the last regiment of the reserve, who had been lying concealed in a

hollow, were then called up. Two hundred of the wounded had been left

behind in a large house, and these, as the Carlists advanced, were

bayoneted to a man. The 8th went boldly forward, and, answering nobly to

Colonel Hogg's call upon them to charge, rushed under a tremendous fire

to a wall, on the other side of which a strong force of the Carlists

stood, while many were already crossing it.

The 8th dashed forward and bayoneted all who had crossed the wall, and

for a time fought the Carlist battalion crowded behind it; but other

troops were pushing on both to the right and left, so, threatened on

both flanks and with an overpowering force in front, the 8th sullenly

fell back. Broken up into parties, they still fought desperately, and

were only saved by a furious charge by the Lancers. The Carlists,

unprepared for cavalry, broke in confusion, and thus the survivors of

the 8th were able to draw off. The regiments of Chapelgorris had

distinguished themselves during the day. They had refused to be brigaded

with the other Spanish regiments, but fought by the side of the British

with the most desperate valour; they were indeed almost annihilated.

Nevertheless, the few survivors of these and the 8th nobly beat back an

attack of the Carlists. There was a regiment of Royal Marines on the

ground, but these were prevented by Lord John Haye, who commanded them,

from taking any prominent part in the fight, and they lost but eighteen

men wounded and none killed, while the Legion had lost very many

hundreds, two or three regiments being almost wiped out. The retreating

force passed the height of Venta, which they had so gallantly won four

days before, and only halted when they reached the lines they had

occupied previous to the 10th.

Arthur had borne his full share in the incidents of that terrible day.

He had fought as fearlessly as the best, and had brought the remains of

his company out of the fray, his captain being among the many officers

who had fallen. So great had been the slaughter that he found himself

at the end of the day high in the list of lieutenants. He had received

three wounds, but all were slight. He had broken his sword in a

hand-to-hand encounter with a Carlist officer, but had ended the fight

by striking his opponent full in the face with the pommel, and

stretching him senseless on the ground. When they reached the lines he

went across to Roper's company, and to his great pleasure found that his

friend had escaped with only a bullet through his arm.

"This has been a dreadful day, Mr. Hallett!"

"A terrible day, Roper! Three to one against us, I should say there

were."

"But we made a stiff fight of it, sir; and the Legion has a right to be

proud of itself. If the Spanish regiments had not given way, I think we

might have held our own with them."

"I doubt whether we could in any case, Roper. They were altogether too

strong for us. Still, we should have done better if the Spaniards had

stood, and might at any rate have retired in good order to the Venta

Hill, and held that against any attack the Carlists might have made. I

hope I shall never see such fighting again."

"The same here," Roper said. "I think a thousand of us can do fairly

well against two thousand of the Carlists; but when it comes to twenty

thousand against about four thousand, the odds are too great altogether,

for no one can say that the Carlists don't fight well. It was lucky,

sir, that the Lancers arrived when they did, for I don't think any of us

would have got away alive if it hadn't been for them. I quite made up

my mind that we had all got to go down, when they came thundering up."

"It was indeed a most fortunate thing, Roper. During the last part of

the day I had been fighting with a musket among the men, for I broke my

sword, and pistols are of no use in a fight like that. Well, I am going

off now to see if I can be of any good in the hospital; the surgeons

must have their hands more than full."

Arthur's offer of aid was thankfully received, and he worked all night,

assisting the surgeons by holding the patients while the amputations

were being carried out, handing them sponges and hot water, and

generally aiding them in their operations. When morning came he was so

fatigued that he made his way with difficulty to his quarters in the

town, where he flung himself down to snatch a few hours' sleep.

There was a great hush over the camp during the day. Then only, as the

men wandered about asking questions concerning missing comrades, did the

full extent of the disaster that had befallen them make itself felt.

The gaps in the ranks were terrible. Their missing comrades were all

gone, for the Carlists had given no quarter. Even if not seriously

wounded, all who fell into their hands were either shot or bayoneted by

them. It was hard, after having fought their way victoriously for three

days, that such a misfortune should befall the Legion! Their one

consolation was that every man had done his duty, not one had turned his

back to his foe.

The gaps among the officers had been terrible. Several of the regiments

had lost all their field-officers; others had suffered greatly. Deep

were the execrations upon the Spanish generals, who should have detained

the Carlist armies facing them, but who by their lethargy had allowed

some twenty thousand men to slip away and join those with whom the

Legion had been so successfully engaged; and not a few of the men would

willingly have obeyed an order to attack the Spanish regiments, who had

deserted them as soon as the fighting began.

At first it was anticipated that the Carlists would take advantage of

their success and attempt to capture San Sebastian and there was a

general hope that they would do so, for all felt confident that they

could resist any attack that might be made. The entrenchments were very

formidable, and a number of heavy guns were mounted upon them. The guns

of the ships, too, would give their support.

But the Carlists were well satisfied with their success. The greater

portion of the troops that had come from Durango, and the force opposed

to Espartero had marched away again, leaving only a sufficient number to

oppose any further attempt on the part of the defenders of San Sebastian

to take the offensive.

Of this, however, there was but little prospect. Scarce three thousand

five hundred out of the ten thousand men of the Legion were fit for

service; disease and battle had accounted for the rest. Besides, of the

two years for which they had enlisted there were but a few months to

run. Had they been treated well, by far the greater portion would

willingly have remained. At first they had felt but small interest in

the struggle in which they had enlisted. Most of them were

ne'er-do-weels--men who had been glad to accept any offer with the

prospect of giving them a living; the Christinos were no more to them

than the Carlists. Now the case was altogether different--the Carlists

had become their personal enemies. They would not have come to hate

them for their doings in a fair fight. But the fact that they massacred

every man who fell into their hands, whether wounded or not, had raised

in the minds of the soldiers a feeling of undying hatred and a burning

desire for revenge. They had not received the treatment they had a

right to expect. They had never been properly fed since they landed;

they were still months in arrears of their pay, and then only

irregularly received the wretched pittance of twopence halfpenny a day.

If the Spanish government had deliberately set themselves to drive the

regiments into mutiny, they could not have gone about it better, and it

was certain that when the time expired few indeed would consent to

remain any longer in the ranks.

The officers were no less indignant than the men. Their pay was nine

months in arrear, and those who had no means of their own had only

subsisted by the assistance of others better off than themselves.

Considering what they went through, it was almost a matter for surprise

that the whole Legion did not embrace the offers of the Carlist

emissaries, who were constantly at work trying to sap their loyalty to

the Christino cause, and go over in a body to the Carlist lines. After

the reverses that had befallen them, the Spanish government seemed more

indifferent than ever to their sufferings; only very occasionally,

ridiculously small amounts were sent to them, sufficient to pay the

soldiers a few pesetas apiece. In these circumstances it was not

surprising that the drill became slack and discipline relaxed. The

officers, deeply indignant, could not bring themselves to be severe upon

the soldiers, who suffered even more than themselves, and so took no

notice of minor acts of insubordination.

Shortly after the battle Arthur had received his usual quarterly letter

from his uncle. "My dear Arthur," it ran, "herewith I enclose order as

usual on Messrs. Callao, of San Sebastian, for thirty pounds. We are

all very glad to find that you have passed through the last battle

without serious wounds. You have been most fortunate in that respect.

Your term of service will end in a few months' time, and we trust that

at its conclusion you will return home. I am afraid that after the life

you have been leading we can hardly hope that you will resume your

studies--indeed, it would not be reasonable to expect it. Still, you

might travel or otherwise employ yourself a great deal better surely

than in getting yourself shot at, and that in a cause which--although no

doubt you now feel some interest--cannot affect you in the same way as

if you were fighting for your own country.

"According to other accounts, and from letters I have seen from other

members of the Legion, you must have been suffering great hardships. No

doubt at San Sebastian these have been less cruel than they were at

Vittoria; still, they have been severe. You tell us very little about

them, and, as I say, it is from other sources that I form this opinion.

We are all obliged to you for always writing directly after a battle,

for we are in a state of considerable anxiety until we hear from you, as

of course no details of casualties are published; and in the interval

between the first report of the fighting and the receipt of your letter

we are all very unsettled, and your cousins' studies are greatly

deranged.

"We all talk and think of you very frequently, and I am afraid that we

are inclined to pride ourselves on having a relative who has won his

commission and distinguished himself in Spain. Still, my dear lad, I do

hope that if the term of service of the Legion is to be extended--and I

think that it probably will be--you will not be among those who remain

in the service. The risks appear to be enormous. More than half the

Legion are by this time either dead or invalided home. I ask you, what

can compensate a man for running such risks, especially when, as in your

case, he is not driven by straitened circumstances to incur it? You have

done well; you have, so to speak, won your spurs. It will be something

to look back upon all your life. Surely that is good enough. Your

first enlistment was, to my mind, a wild and foolish business; but I own

that, annoyed as I then was, I should be still more so were you to

repeat the mistake.

"Pray think this over seriously. Remember, pecuniarily you have no need

whatever to remain in the Legion. You tell me that you have still most

of the money I have sent you lying by. You have but three more years to

wait till your majority, when you will receive three hundred pounds a

year, and, if necessary, I can add something to this amount.

"Your cousins insist that you must be now almost a man, as you say that

you are over six feet, and no doubt the life that you have led must have

aged you a good deal and, I hope, taken some of your foolish

recklessness out of you. They have asked me to say that they hope you

won't bring home a Spanish lady as a wife, and I have assured them that,

although I consider you capable of many follies, I feel convinced that

you will not commit such a crowning one as that. They and my wife all

send their love, and their earnest hopes and prayers, in which I join,

that you will come home safe and sound to us.

"I remain, my dear Arthur,

"Your affectionate Uncle."