Embark for San Sebastian—A thirty-two-pounder, and no mistake—A bloody
force—Brains where they were wanted, unfortunately—A prize—Arrival at
San Sebastian—Anticipated attack—Colonel de Rottenberg taken ill—Major
Fortescue—Opinions—His maiden speech—Two companies broke up the others
of the regiment—5th of May—Attack on the lines of San Sebastian—A
hullabaloo—6th Scotch taken for enemies—Helter-skelter—I receive a
severe wound—Am carried into San Sebastian—My letter to my wife.
ON the 21st of April, about six in the evening, four companies of the
Rifles were shipped on board an English steamer, under the command of
Commodore Henry, with orders to convey us to San Sebastian. I was
enjoying a comfortable sleep about six o’clock the following morning,
when I was awoke by the thundering rattle of a thirty-two-pounder. This
rather electrified me; and, on jumping on deck, I found the vessel had
laid-to about half a mile from the shore—the jolly-boat lowered and
manned with soldiers and sailors, and in full pull after two of the
enemy’s fishing-boats, which, with a few soldiers on board of them, were
smartly exchanging shots with ours. The report of the firing, however,
attracted the attention of a picquet of theirs, stationed near the
water’s edge, who immediately threw themselves amongst the rocks, and
covered the landing of their comrades, while the Commodore kept blazing
away at them with his thirty-two’s. The Carlists, jumping on land, and
deserting their boats, made up the rocks to join their comrades; our
fellows, in the meanwhile, rowing after them till within point-blank
reach of the picquet, who instantly began a most spirited retaliation.
In the midst of this a Captain N——, of the Rifles, formerly a Pedroite,
who had volunteered for the enterprise, suddenly disappeared under the
seats of the boat in search of shelter, whilst the men, of their own
accord, gallantly returned the fire. They succeeded in bringing away the
two boats, but not before we had lost two men; one sailor, and a
soldier, a man of my own company, named Macnamara, who was shot through
the head, and fell at full length on the prostrate body of the terrified
Captain, and literally drenched him with blood and brains. Thus ended
the silly adventure, at the sacrifice of two lives. The boats not being
worth twenty shillings, were instantly scuttled, and the two men being
dropped overboard, the steamer continued its way. About four in the
afternoon we entered the Bay of San Sebastian, amidst the whistling
shots of the enemy, who were firing upon us from the hills surrounding
the harbour; but their distance from us precluded the possibility of
much danger.
In San Sebastian, for the first time, our men were comfortably
quartered. But our besiegers, who from appearances, were very numerous,
gave us every reason to expect a regular brush. They were very strongly
entrenched on the opposite hills, and held complete command of the bay.
At this period, I am sorry to state, our Colonel, Baron de Rottenberg,
fell sick, and obtained leave of absence; the command of the battalion
devolved of course, on the Major, the next in seniority, named
Fortescue.
This was rather an unfortunate promotion, both for the gentleman and the
regiment, as it placed the former in no enviable situation, a few days
after; indeed, it was a mad idea to expect that a young man, who had
been but a short period a Lieutenant in the 4th British Foot, could be
properly intrusted with the lives of four or five hundred men at his
discretion; when in action, from what I myself had observed, he was not
capable of telling off a company. Baron de Rottenberg, however, who is
now serving on the British Staff in America, formerly commanded the
Light Company of the 81st regiment, and was one of the most efficient
and best disciplined officers I ever witnessed. In fact, as the Colonel
informed me, his father General de Rottenberg, was the originator of the
rifle exercise.
On the 4th May, at evening parade, the Rifles were assembled on the
Plaza, and the regiment being formed into square, facing inwards, our
new Commander, Major Fortescue thus addressed us:
“Rifles! to-morrow, we are to be engaged with the enemy: they show no
quarter—neither shall we—skewer every man of them—take no
prisoners—skewer every b—— you meet!” Meanwhile the Major imitated a
charge with a stick he held in his hand, the men staring with surprise
both at him and the order. “Now,” said he, taking off his cap, “let us
have three cheers, my lads,” and commencing the uproar, the men joined,
and the whole Plaza rung again.
This was his maiden speech, and I leave it to the reader to judge of its
effects, both on officer and man; indeed, on marching to the private
parade ground, I inquired of the Major if he had received the order from
the General. “No!” he replied, rather sharply, “I have not; but you
know, Costello, it will be only tit for tat.”
Being satisfied of this, I took the opportunity when halting the men, to
undo what he had so earnestly wished to impress, by telling them, that
the order they had just received to butcher every enemy we met, was not
issued by General Evans, and that they came to Spain to be soldiers, not
butchers. However blood-thirsty the enemy, we as British soldiers were
bound to set a very different example, and to treat with less rigour
those who might fall into our hands. I then requested my two lieutenants
to use their exertions, and see that the men gave quarter.
About twelve o’clock the next night, the Legion prepared themselves for
the test, and the inhabitants of the town were all alive for the
forthcoming effort. Prior to our marching, General Reid who commanded
our brigade, broke up two of our companies, as he thought the officers
in command of them incompetent, and distributed the men amongst the
battalion, thus forming the regiment into four companies, each from
eighty to ninety strong.
About three in the morning we slowly moved through the gates towards the
enemy’s lines, which were not more than three-quarters of a mile
distant. The Rifles were on the extreme left of the Legion, and our
battalion marched left in front, so that my company brought up the rear.
The morning was very dull and heavy, being ushered in by a kind of
Scotch mist. The men, however, were in great spirits, and seemed
determined to prove themselves worthy of their British name: my
confidence in them was such, that I almost imagined myself in the midst
of my old comrades, and panted like an old hunter for the course.
In a few minutes we commenced ascending the hills, when the enemy opened
a brisk fire on us, thus showing they were not to be caught napping; and
now the well-known sound—the whistling balls passed over my head—that
music at one time so familiar to my ears, that I have often been obliged
to breakfast, dine, and sup upon its harmony; this brought my younger
days to recollection, as if I had recoiled twenty years; the Rifles,
however, took possession of their first lines, without firing a shot or
losing a man.
Meanwhile, we could hear a very smart firing on our right, where the
7th, 9th, and 10th regiments were hotly engaged; however, as the morning
cleared, and the Carlists discovered where we were, they began to play
very warmly amongst us. The more the shots flew, the greater confusion
among the officers, for each imagining his tactics better than his
neighbour, assumed the command (especially the Pedroites). This was
further encouraged by “certain drops” which the rawness of the morning,
and the “business in hand,” had influenced them to sip rather
plentifully, while waiting in the Plaza.
In this hullabaloo, Lieutenant Macintosh of our regiment, then
aide-de-camp to General Reid coming up restored some little order, and
actually took command of the regiment, ordering us to march down a lane,
a little to our right, where he placed the battalion behind a bank,
opposite a Carlist breast-work; here we formed right in front—the enemy
at this time appearing not more than four or five hundred yards off. We
had scarcely formed and got into order, when our commanding officer,
Major Fortescue, cried out, “No. 1 Company, quick march!”
The men instantly scrambled forward over the bank, that partially
covered them; seeing this, I requested he would allow me to take command
of my company, tell me what to do, and it should be complied with. But
the Major was too brave a soldier himself, to allow me that honour, and
replied only with the word, “Make ready, present fire!” and fire they
did, and did some mischief too, for by the Major bringing up their left
shoulders more than he should have done, they fired a volley into the
6th Scotch, who were some distance on our right front, and badly wounded
fifteen or sixteen of their men;[30] this done he instantly ordered the
men to fall back behind the bank and reload, (no doubt to give a second
dose) when I again requested to be allowed to take the command of my
company, remarking that riflemen never fired by companies, but
independently and in extended order. I also pointed out to him, his
error in firing on the 6th, on which he answered, “You may take them
where you like.”
This was all I required, and when the men had finished loading, I gave
the word “right face,” and bringing them into the lane before-mentioned,
we moved in the direction of the 6th who were busily at work. As we
approached nearer to the scene of action, one or two of my men being
wounded, I took one of their rifles and ten rounds of ammunition, and
placing the men under cover, I inquired if they would follow me and
undertake to storm a redoubt opposite? all quickly answered, “We will,
Sir.” I begged them to be cool, and not to fire until they closed upon
the breast-work, and then get under cover as soon as possible, extending
from the centre; off we started, at double time, towards their second
line of entrenchments.
I had to pass close to the 6th. Hearing a cheer in my rear, I turned and
beheld the remainder of the Rifles in close column. The indefatigable
Fortescue in front, twirling a large stick over his head, cheering and
charging. At this moment, noticing a deep ravine on the left, I cried
out to the men to bring up their left shoulders, and close to the right,
so as to avoid it; but before this could be accomplished, the Major and
his men got intermixed with the 6th. Here the confusion increased,
helter-skelter, pell-mell, as the balls began to tell fearfully among
us, while the enemy seeing our confusion, plied them to advantage, and
to mend the matter, part of my company also became intermixed with the
remainder of the battalion; endeavouring to get them into something like
order, two balls struck me at the same moment, one grazing the skin of
my left thigh, and the other entering under the right knee joint,
passing downward through the ham, and out at the calf of the leg.
The brave fellows of my company stuck to me gallantly, and the instant I
fell flew to my assistance and bore me to the rear. I was carried back
to the lane, whence we started, and on my leg being dressed, I
discovered that the ball had entered an old wound made by a French
bullet at the action of Almeida, July 24th, 1810. But it had come out in
a different direction. I was next placed on a stretcher and conveyed to
my old quarters at San Sebastian. As the men were carrying me down the
hill towards the town, I observed two steamers in full play, throwing
shells into the Carlist redoubts. These mainly contributed to the
success of the morning, by the skilful manner in which they directed
their shells into the enemy’s works. When a little recovered from the
loss of blood, after my arrival at my quarters, I wrote the following
letter to my wife, which in some degree may serve to show my feelings
and opinions at the time the action was fought:
“San Sebastian, May 5, 1836.
“My dear Charlotte,
“I dare say by the time you receive this letter, the streets of London
will be crowded with fellows bellowing out, ‘The unfortunate Legion is
killed to a man, and poor Costello is no _more_.’ But if you have not
purchased the widow’s weeds, I request you will not do so, as I am not
yet half killed; certainly I have an extra ball through my old trunk:
and this I should have escaped had I not exposed myself, perhaps rather
unnecessarily, in endeavouring to keep the brave fellows of my company
in something like military order.
“All were commanders, from the Second Lieutenant to the Major. It
appeared to me, in truth, the Legion is not a school for the young
soldier to acquire knowledge, nor the old to get credit. How different,
indeed, were things carried on in the British Army: there, in the very
height of the most desperate conflict, all was cool and collected, and
every officer’s word could be distinctly heard, at the slightest
cessation of firing.
“The officer who commanded our regiment to-day is a smart young fellow,
and might be of some service in a country fair in Ireland, with a good
shilelah; but to command four or five hundred men in action with
fire-arms, against a hardy race of mountaineers well disciplined, is
quite a different thing. I cannot say how many of our regiment were
killed, as I was reluctantly compelled to leave them, by a ball passing
through my right knee, yet I hope I shall not lose my limb. My kindest
love to our dear children; but do not think the worst, my dear
Charlotte,—you shall soon again hear from me.
“Affectionately yours,
“E. COSTELLO.
“Mrs. Costello, 29, Hinden Street,
Vauxhall Road, London.”