Almeida closely invested by the fifth division, but not close
enough—Evacuation by the French—Suicide of the Colonel of the
4th—Sabugal—We cross the Coa—The comet—Much ado about nothing—Tom
Crawley’s fears—March through Castello Branco—Portalegre, &c.,
to Campo Mayor—Tom Crawley poisoned—Blockade of Ciudad
Rodrigo—Atalaya—Hunting excursion with the Staff—Our third battalion
joins us—Colonel Barnard—Tommy Searchfield—Middy ashore—Deficiency of
rations—A new arrival—His adventure—Spanish spite—The pigs—Rodrigo
relieved by the French—Our division—We rejoin the army—Battle of El
Bodon—We return to Guinaldo—Again invest Rodrigo—January, 1812—Fort
Piquerine stormed—The stripping of the prisoners by the Portuguese—Tom
Crawley again—Cure for a skulk.
AT this period Almeida was closely invested by the fifth division, while
we in front watched the main army. Early on the morning of the 10th of
May we were ordered to get under arms, and march towards Barba del
Puerco, the scene of one of our former skirmishes the year before. On
arriving near the town we heard some smart firing, and we halted. We now
were informed, for the first time, that the French garrison at Almeida,
after blowing up the walls at night, evacuated the town, and had cut
their way through the blockading force.
The brigades of the fifth division, I believe, did duty by turns. That
in which were the 2nd and 4th regiments happened to be on picquet when
the French made their way through the investing force, which gave rise
to a verse that became very common amongst the troops. But I must remark
that the badge of the 2nd regiment was a lamb, and that of the 4th a
lion. The lines were as follows:—
“The lion went to sleep,
And the lambs were at play;
The eagle spread her wings,
And from Almeida flew away.”
Although these regiments were rendered somewhat unpopular from this
circumstance, it is generally admitted, by those capable of judging,
that there were not two finer in the service. Our battalion had been
particularly fond of the 4th, while they were quartered at Colchester,
where they had christened us in a friendly feeling, “The young 4th.” The
melancholy death of their Colonel, who, from an over-sensitive feeling
of honour, shot himself shortly after the foregoing unlucky affair, was
generally regretted.
The evacuation of the fortress of Almeida having rendered the presence
of our division thereabouts no longer necessary, another movement was
made to the southward to General Hill, who commanded the second
division, at this time menaced by a very superior force of the French.
On the first day’s march we passed through Sabugal, crossed the Coa, and
encamped in a chesnut wood, close to our former scene of action.
Here a very strange panic occurred, that might have been attended with
most disastrous effects. About twelve at night I was stretched on my
back under the boughs of a tree, admiring the comet that at that period
created some sensation in Europe, from its nearness to the earth, when a
general alarm and outcry was raised in the division that “The French
were upon us.” In a moment I started up, and seized my rifle. The
different regiments were assembling in the greatest disorder, while the
general cries of alarm on all sides induced many to feel a terror that
was, perhaps, never felt in battle. Among others I plainly observed
General Crauford, desiring all whom he met to fall in and load. After a
short while the panic ceased: we all looked foolish enough at the great
ado about nothing, though some attributed the cause to French spies
having got among us, others to some bullocks grazing by, that had
knocked down several stands of arms; others again accused the comet, and
among the latter in our battalion was that worthy, Tom Crawley, who
stoutly contended the comet was a sign we ought to leave the country, as
it would shortly drop down and burn up that part of Europe. Tom himself
at this period, it was shrewdly suspected, had a great desire to turn
his steps homewards.
We continued our march through Castello Branco, Portalegre, and encamped
on a low ground called Monte Reguingo, on the right of the road leading
to Campo Mayor. There we remained about six weeks, during which we
suffered dreadfully for want of rations as well as from the oppressive
heat of the weather; we called it the furnace camp. Tom, while we
remained at Reguingo, imagined himself poisoned. He had eaten rather
ravenously of some pork and caravançes (a sort of pulse), and was
suddenly seized with violent paroxysms of pain through his over-gorging.
Old Doctor Burke being sent for, found Crawley on the ground groaning
most piteously, and swelled to an enormous size, while two of his
comrades were busy rubbing the lower part of his belly. The Doctor, who
fancied Spain during the last two years had brought Tom’s stomach to
suit the convenience of the commissary, commenced a volley of abuse—“you
cannibal, what garbage have you been swallowing,” he cried, “to leave
you in this condition?” “Oh, murther, do you hear him boys,” roared the
sufferer, as he turned up his eyes towards his tormentor. “By the mother
of God, Sir, this infernal country will kill the whole of us—may a curse
fall on it; arrah, Doctor dear, when I came into it I had a stomach like
any other Christian; but now, oh God, have mercy on me poor stomach,
that for want of Christian food is turned into a scavenger’s cart,
obliged to take in every rubbage.” The Doctor, who seldom did anything
by halves, gave him an emetic sufficient to physic a dromedary. Crawley,
however, who never feared death on the field, now seemed to hesitate to
meet him in quarters, and between the groans he uttered, made the most
vehement promises of mending his sinful life if spared. Never was an
intended pious scene made more truly ludicrous; our men were in
convulsions of laughter.
In July we returned to assist in the blockade of Ciudad Rodrigo, and
took up a position at a village called Atalaya, at the base of the
Sierra de Gata, a range of mountains. Here Lord Wellington’s staff
frequently went out hunting. On these occasions they generally had five
or six men of the Rifles to assist. The place abounded in wolves and
wild boars, so that a great deal of amusement was experienced in this
sport. I generally had the good fortune to be selected, with others of
our battalion, to attend his Lordship’s staff in these excursions. The
chase was very exciting, particularly from the ferocious nature of the
game we sought. I well remember the first wild boar I saw in one of
these hunts: he was a huge fellow, with tusks of a most alarming size,
but although we fired several shots, and the hounds pursued him, he
escaped. One day we came upon three young wolf cubs, the old ones having
abandoned them on our approach. These animals, which we presented to one
of our officers, remained in his possession for a long time, and became
as docile and playful as kittens.
Here we were joined by our third battalion, under the command of Colonel
Barnard, Colonel Beckwith having retired through ill-health, a gallant
and very distinguished officer, now known as General Sir Andrew Barnard;
at the same time, also, we were reinforced, by a batch of recruits from
England, and by one Tommy Searchfield, a character well known to all the
Light Brigade. This gentleman, a squat, square little fellow, had
formerly been a “middy” in the Royal Navy, and now come over to us as a
cadet, and subsequently obtained a lieutenancy.
“Tommy’s” first feat was something after the lessons he had received
under the immortal Nelson. He had been accustomed hitherto to meet his
enemies “muzzle to muzzle,” and, consequently, whenever the least
intimation was given of the presence of the French, would imagine them
almost passing through the loopholes, or as he termed them, our “ports.”
On one occasion he bawled aloud, “to quarters,” and seizing hold of a
rope, suspended outside the church of the village, to one of the bells
in the belfry; to our surprise, and that of the inhabitants also, ran up
it like a cat, to keep the “look-out” for the enemy. We, however, were
some distance from them. The officers, for want of better employment,
occupied their own and our time erecting sham fortifications in the
woods, &c., and thus turned “Tom’s” peculiarities to their amusement.
Searchfield, however, got “awake” to them, and his original good-natured
simplicity giving way to experience, he gently informed his tormentors
that he kept “a clean brace of pistols” about him, “at any time at their
sarvice.” This unexpected show of pluck made his “teazers” less gibing,
and “Tommy” took his proper position; and, I believe, became as
respectable as any of them.
At Atalaya we were very much in the advance of the main army: the
distance made it difficult for the commissariat to forward our rations
regularly, and we, consequently, suffered dreadfully through want; and,
I may say, underwent more privations than at any other place in Spain,
excepting at Dough Boy Hill. The deficiency of bread we had been obliged
to make up with roasted or boiled chesnuts, of which we were always
allowed a quart a day each. At length we found it necessary to make an
incursion into the mountains, to press the Alcaldes of the different
villages to supply us.
On one of these expeditions, under charge of a quarter-master, we
observed two persons mounted on mules, riding towards us. On their
approach we remarked to one another the light-haired appearance of one,
and the singularity of a “fair-complexioned Spaniard,” when the fellow
suddenly stopped his mule, and jumping toward us exclaimed, “Oh, by the
merciful God, are ye English?” He was immediately answered from a dozen
voices in the affirmative, and we discovered him to be one of our
cavalry men, who having been made a prisoner by the French at Talavera,
had since escaped. His short stay among the Spaniards had not spoilt his
“brogue,” and he gave us in the real Irish accent, a full account of his
adventures.
When the enemy took him, dragoon-like, together with a slight wound, he
could not keep up with his captors, who, having no mules, were in the
practice of pressing the strongest and most robust of the inhabitants
and making them carry the English prisoners on their backs, now and then
keeping up their stamina by pricking their hind-quarters with the
bayonets. Our cavalier consequently found himself mounted in like
manner; the close contact, however, that this brought him in with the
ears of his bearers was followed by whispers, and the Spaniards no doubt
as tired of their burthen as the burthen of the French, slipped him into
a house on the way-side, whence, having quickly shaved the top of his
sconce, they passed him as a priest, and he escaped with them into the
mountains. He there got amongst the Guerillas, under Don Julian Sanchez,
of whom he gave us many amusing anecdotes, and who passed him on till he
reached us. As soon as we returned to the village he reported himself to
General Crauford, who laughed heartily at the details he gave of
himself, and ordered his servant to give him a coat to supply his almost
naked condition until he rejoined his regiment. Meanwhile he was ordered
to stop with our company, and took up his quarters in the house with me.
Among other amusements before detailed, we used to get up jumping,
wrestling, and cuffing-matches with the peasantry, who generally joined
most heartily in the fun. One day, however, a Spaniard of theirs, being
over-matched, became exceedingly nettled, and commenced quarrelling with
one of our sergeants, named Kitchen; the result was they came to blows,
when after two or three slight cuffs the peasant fell suddenly and
expired. The village, of course, became a scene of uproar, and we were
obliged, to satisfy the inhabitants, to hold a kind of inquest upon him.
However, the barber, or “Sangrado” of the place, together with our own
surgeon, to their extreme mortification declared, that the man had
injured the spleen of his stomach, and actually had died through spite.
I must not forget to mention the sagacity of the pigs, which, in great
numbers were kept by the farmers of the village. Though belonging to
different owners they all obeyed one master, who, it may be said, with
the Alcalde, held absolute sway over “man and beast.” Early in the
morning the animals were assembled, by the sounding of a horn, and taken
by him into the wood to feed on acorns, and at night were driven home
again in like manner, the swine-herd’s only deputies being a short iron
on the end of a stick, somewhat like that used by our shepherds. The
anxiety of the animals, immediately they heard the tones of his
instrument, was remarkable, and if they chanced to be confined at the
time, their screams and grunts grew most vociferous, and might be heard
a mile off. Indeed it was only for the herdsman to tune up at any time
of the day they would come to him instantly, and seldom even one was
missing, save and except now and then when they chanced to fall into the
clutches of our riflemen.
About this period General Marmont, who had succeeded Massena in command
of the French army, having concentrated his force, was enabled to
relieve Rodrigo. Making a forward movement after this, it was found high
time for our regiment to retire. This we did at an hour’s notice, as we
heard the enemy were stirring to beat up our quarters. We fell in at
dead of night, and after making a semi-circular march, for there were
some fears of the enemy cutting us off, we arrived at El Bodon. There we
found the greater part of the army assembled under Lord Wellington,
together with the remainder of our light division, who loudly cheered us
as we made our appearance, a report having arisen amongst the rest of
the troops that one battalion had been all taken prisoners.
On our arrival, most of us were occupied gleaning accounts of the battle
of El Bodon, which had been fought the day before, in which the 5th and
77th regiments, as we then heard, had much distinguished themselves,
resisting the desperate charges made upon them by the Polish Lancers in
the French service.
From El Bodon, where we remained some time, we retreated to Soito, and
shortly afterwards returned to Guinaldo, a town still closer to the city
of Ciudad Rodrigo. In the beginning of January, 1812, our division
commenced investing Ciudad. The first day, our brigade crossed the
Agueda, about three miles up the river from the city, round which we
marched, keeping always at a most respectful distance on account of
their round-shot. From the idea this survey gave us of Rodrigo there
were few of our men not aware of the great strength of the fortress and
outworks, but it afforded only a subject for jest; as I believe at that
time, such was the confidence that filled the ranks of our division, it
would have been difficult to persuade the men that they could not beat
the French, under any odds.
The same evening, Colonel Colborne, with less than two hundred men, of
the 43rd, 52nd, and Rifles, carried in the most gallant manner a strong
fort of the enemy. Prior to its being stormed a number of Caçadores had
been ordered to take blankets to convey away the wounded French as well
as the British. But most of those employed in this duty took advantage
of it to strip the prisoners, whom to the number of fifty they left
almost as naked as they were born, and exposed to all the rigours of the
inclement month of January. I was present near the tent of General
Crauford, when a talkative, smart little Frenchman, whom I guessed to be
an officer, was brought before him; the poor fellow had nothing on but
his trowsers, and bled profusely from the nose and mouth, through the
blows he had received.
The General was very chagrined at the sight, and lamented his inability
to give him clothes, his own baggage being so distant. Tom Crawley,
however, who had been actively employed hunting the Portuguese from
them, immediately stepped forward, and touching his hat after his own
inimitable manner, “Yer honner,” said Tom, his eyes sparkling at being
able to assist, “I’ll lend him my great coat, if ye’ll allow me.”
Crauford, much pleased at his frank offer, instantly answered, “You are
very good, Rifleman; let him have it,” and Tom proceeded to strip.
Meanwhile more of the Frenchmen were marched in, many worse off than
their officer. One of them, a sergeant, and a smart looking fellow, as
soon as he perceived the officer, ran to embrace him, and leaning his
head on his shoulder, burst into tears over their mutual misery. Captain
Smith, now Sir Harry, the General’s aide-de-camp, being present,
generously pulled forth his pocket-handkerchief and wrapped it round the
sergeant’s totally naked person, till further covering could be
obtained.
The night of this occurrence came on remarkably cold, and when expecting
to be marched back to our quarters at El Bodon, we were suddenly ordered
to break ground by commencing to throw up intrenchments in the face of
the city. In executing this task, being unsheltered from the enemy’s
shot, their grape and canister occasionally played in among us, so that
although it was freezing hard at the time, we had no reason to complain
of not having _a good fire_.
Now was the time to cure a skulker, or teach a man to work for his
“life.” There we were, in twos, each provided with a pick-axe and
shovel; now digging with a vengeance into the frozen mould, and then
watching the glances of the shot and shell; and again sticking to work
like devils, or perhaps pitching ourselves on our bellies to avoid their
being “purged” with grape or cannister.