Old Trowsers—Sleeping and waking—O’Hare again—Colonel Beckwith—Two upon
one—Meagher—Barba del Puerco—General Crauford taken by surprise—The
Portuguese incorporation with the light division—Rodrigo—Gallegos—The
Beacon night scenes on picquet—Lord Wellington—Napoleon’s
Marriage—Crauford’s stratagem—The French spy—We retreat to Fort
Conception.
I REJOINED my regiment at Barba del Puerco, a small village near the
banks of the river Coa, on the other side of which the enemy had taken
up their position. Our regiment was cantoned in the surrounding
villages, while nightly we mounted a captain’s picquet on a height
facing a bridge, on the other side of which the French had thrown out
their advanced sentry. Two of our sentries were posted on the bridge,
while a third was stationed half-way down the steep, to keep up the
communication with our picquet above.
On the 19th of May, the company to which I belonged was on picquet. It
was a fine, though windy night, a fleecy scud occasionally obscuring the
light of the moon. About twelve o’clock, while our men were mostly
asleep, we were suddenly woke by the rifle reports of our sentries, and
the French drums playing their advance “rub-a-dub-dub,” which our men
designated with the name of “old trowsers.” I was now, as it were, but a
young sleepy-headed boy, and as yet had been scarcely aroused to a true
sense of the profession I had embraced. I had never been under the fire
of a French musket, and I felt an indescribable thrill on this occasion.
The chilly hour of the night and peculiar inclination to sleep, at the
time, had sunk my senses below zero. But I was speedily startled out of
my lethargy by the whizzing of the enemies’ bullets, as they greeted my
astonished hearing. My surprise soon, however, gave place to perfect
recollection, and in less than a minute we were all under arms, the
balls of the French whistling about us as a column came rushing over the
bridge to force our position. Captain O’Hare, with his characteristic
coolness, immediately gave us the word to “seek cover,” and we threw
ourselves forward among the rocky and broken ground, from whence we kept
up a galling fire upon those who had commenced storming our heights.
We were exceedingly hard pressed when three companies of our regiment,
under Colonel Beckwith, came up to our relief, and the contest for a
while was both doubtful and bloody. But, after about half an hour’s hard
fighting, the enemy were obliged to retreat with much precipitation, and
under a close and murderous fire from us. During this brief conflict
some incidents occurred that, perhaps, are worth mentioning. Colonel
Beckwith actually employed himself, at one time, in heaving large
fragments of stone upon the French as they attempted to ascend the
acclivity on which we were placed, and, while so engaged, got a
musket-shot through his cap.
Another officer of ours, the Adjutant Lieutenant Stewart, a fine tall
fellow, was engaged in a personal contest with two or three grenadiers,
a number of whom had managed to ascend the hill on our right; at this
critical moment one of our men, named Ballard, fortunately came to his
aid, and shot one of his assailants, at which the other instantly
surrendered. The above gallant officer, however, afterwards fell on our
advance from Santarem the following year.
This was, I believe, the first and last time the French ever attempted
surprising a rifle picquet.
Both our sentries at the bridge were taken prisoners, one of them badly
wounded. A rather interesting recollection is attached to one of them,
named Meagher, who, when the exchange of prisoners took place in 1814,
returned to England and rejoined us at Dover. He was with us in France
at the time of Waterloo, which, however, he was not present at on
account of the following circumstance.
A quarrel had originated a few nights before the battle of Waterloo in a
wine-house at Brussels, between some of our men, and the Belgian
gens-d’armes, the consequence was, that the inhabitants were forced to
send for the guards. These, of course, were soon on the spot, but were
as soon attacked and beaten back by the Belgians, who would have driven
them into the guard-house but for Meagher, who, suddenly turning to the
assailants, levelled his rifle and shot the foremost through the body;
on this, the whole of the gens-d’armes retreated, not, however, till
after Meagher had received a cut on the side of the neck. For this
affair he was put into prison, and a general court-martial honourably
acquitted him, not until that battle had been fought which for ever
destroyed Napoleon’s hopes. Our company, to which Meagher belonged, soon
after presented a requisition to Captain Leach, who then commanded us,
and through his intercession, Meagher obtained a Waterloo medal.
Shortly after this attempted surprise, we quitted Barba del Puerco for
the town of Gallegos, situated some five or six miles from Ciudad
Rodrigo.
The following laughable incident occurred to me while we lay at
Gallegos:—I happened to be acquainted with General Crauford’s private
servant, a German, chiefly through my being employed as orderly to the
brigadier. At times when an opportunity offered, we used to take a glass
of wine together upon the most convivial terms. One morning, however,
when I thought the brigadier had gone out, as was his usual custom, I
went to his room to ask the valet to partake of some wine which I had
received from the patron of the house. On opening the door, I
unhesitatingly went in, and beheld, as I imagined, the individual I
wanted in a morning-gown looking out of the window. It entered into my
head to surprise my servant friend, so, as he had not been disturbed by
my approach, I stepped softly up to his rear, and with a sudden laugh,
gave him a smart slap on the back. But my consternation and surprise may
be better imagined than described, when the gentleman in the
dressing-gown, starting round with a “Who the devil is that?”
disclosed—not the merry phiz of the valet, but the stern features of
General Crauford himself.
I thought I should have sunk through the ground at the moment, had it
have opened to swallow me. I could only attempt to explain the mistake I
had made, in a very humble way, as I gradually retreated to the door.
“And where did you get the wine from, Sir?” inquired the General, with a
good-humoured smile; for he observed the fright I was in.
I informed him.
“Well, well, you may go,” said the General; “but, pray, Sir, never again
do me the honour to take me for my servant.”
I needed not the permission to vanish in a moment. And many a laugh and
jest were created at my expense afterwards among the men, as the
circumstance got circulated by the valet.
We were here joined by the 1st and 3rd regiment of the Portuguese
Caçadores. These fellows I never had any opinion of from the very first
moment I saw them. They were the dirtiest and noisiest brutes I ever
came across. Historians of the day have given them great credit; but
during the whole of the Peninsular War, or, at least, the time they were
with us, I never knew them to perform one gallant act. On the line of
march they often reminded me of a band of strollers. They were very fond
of gambling, and every halt we made was sure to find them squatted, and
with cards in their hands.
One of these regiments was placed under the command of a captain of
ours, named Elder, a brave officer, who was made Colonel of the 3rd; and
being afterwards severely wounded at Badajos, returned to England; at
the same period, also, we were incorporated with the 14th and 16th Light
Dragoons, together with the 3rd regiment of German Hussars, and Captain
Bull’s troop of horse artillery.
The French had now commenced laying siege to Rodrigo, and we were
terribly harassed by the severity of our duty, being both day and night
accoutred and under arms; indeed, we were daily expecting an attack.
A section of our rifles usually mounted picquet with a troop of
dragoons, and occupied, accordingly, three different points—Carpio,
Molina dos Flores and Marialva; all about two miles nearer to Rodrigo.
Bull’s troop of artillery remained always near a church, in the centre
of the village of Gallegos, and at all times kept a gun ready loaded
with blank carriage, and a sentry near it, watching a beacon erected on
a hill, about a mile from the village. A vidette and one of our riflemen
were placed near the beacon in case of the picquets being attacked, to
give alarm by discharging his piece into the combustibles, and so
setting it on fire; or, in case of its not igniting, to ride round it
three times, with his cap mounted on his sword, at which signal the gun
was instantly fired, and the whole division were immediately under arms.
As I have remarked, we were greatly harassed; our picquets and the
French were constantly in the habit of firing at each other, and scarce
a day passed without some of the men being brought in, either killed or
wounded. We had not yet established that understanding with the enemy,
which avoided unnecessary bloodshed at the outposts which afterwards
tended much to humanize the war.
Meanwhile the siege of Rodrigo was vigorously carried on by the French.
The weather was intensely hot, and we delighted in bathing in a small
river that flowed between the beacon-hill and the village. Many of us,
while so amusing ourselves, would take these opportunities to wash our
shirts in the running stream, laying them out to dry on the sand.
Frequently, however, when thus employed, the alarm gun would be fired,
and in a moment we might be observed, like so many water sprites,
jumping out of the stream and hurrying on the wet shirts, actually
wringing, and throwing them over our shoulders, while we fell in with
our comrades. It was rather surprising, that I never felt any ill
effects from these wet habiliments; but the men, from constant exposure,
had become as hardy as the soil itself.
From the novelty, however, of the picquet duty, the men preferred it
always to any other: as we amused ourselves generally at night watching
the shells exchanged between the besieged and the assailants, the sight
was very beautiful, sometimes as many as seven or eight-and-twenty
crossing each other, like so many comets.
Once we were visited by the Duke himself, who, although his
head-quarters were at the time, I believe, at Viseu, distant somewhat
about twenty leagues, had come on a reconnoitring excursion to our
outline picquets. While on sentry one day I recollect his Grace placing
his telescope on my shoulders to take a view of the enemy’s position.
Our intelligence was chiefly derived from deserters, a number of whom
daily came over to us, and gave information that Ciudad could not hold
out much longer.
One day we were unusually alarmed by an extraordinary bustle in the
French camp; being on the advanced picquet, I could distinctly hear the
cheering of men and firing of cannon: the whole of our division was
ordered to fall in, and it was not until the morning following, that we
learned that it originated in the news from Paris, of the Emperor’s
marriage with the Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria.
We now daily held ourselves in expectation of an attack, and were under
arms every morning at one o’clock, five minutes only being allowed for
the whole division to fall in. But we seldom took our accoutrements off,
and used both to sleep and to cook with them on. The baggage was paraded
every morning half a mile to the rear, and every other precaution taken
by the Brigadier for an orderly retreat, as the French were in our front
and in overwhelming force, while our division was scarcely more than
four thousand strong. One of the General’s stratagems to make our small
force appear more numerous in the eyes of the French, was to draw the
regiments up in rank entire. After, however, several months of severe
hardship at Gallegos, General Crauford was at last obliged to change his
ground, and we retreated to Allameda, a little town about two miles in
our rear, and on the main road leading to the fortified town of Almeida:
we remained here a few days, and took a French spy, who had passed among
us as a lemonade-merchant. His indifference and carelessness in
accepting remuneration for his beverage, which was in constant request,
together with his laughing one day very significantly when one of our
men was swearing at the French for the trouble they caused, induced a
sergeant to apprehend him. He was brought before General Crauford, and
on his being searched, letters were found upon him that proved him to be
a French Colonel. He was sent to the rear: how, indeed, he managed to
escape the doom he had rendered himself liable to, I know not.
A few mornings after this, the French came down in great force, and we
were obliged to retire. This we did slowly, covered by Captain Ross’s
guns and our rifles, assisted also by a few troops of the 14th and 16th
Dragoons and 3rd German Hussars. We retired with very little loss, for a
distance of four or five miles, to Fort Conception in front of the
little town of Villa de Mula. Here we went into cantonments. We were now
close on the borders of Portugal, which is here divided from Spain only
by a small stream—at this spot, so narrow, that in some places it may be
jumped over. We daily mounted a picquet of two companies at the fort,
which was a beautiful work, in the shape of a star.