An orderly dragoon puts us all in confusion—A stir—Retreat upon
Santander—The dangers of forgetfulness—Cure for a fever—We return to
our old quarters—Captain Shields and Major Clark’s visit—An appeal—A
new mode of raising “Volunteers”—Glory or death by famine—One hundred
and twenty men are starved into the service again—Scene in
Santander—British soldiers and subjects—More assassinations—A
cold-blooded Spaniard—A peace-loving Commandant—Captain Oakley and his
“cats”—Continued horrors of the convent—Assassination—A relief from
purgatory—A conclusion.
IN consequence of the weakened state of the garrison and the convent,
the inhabitants and Commandant of Santander were in constant fear of
incursions from the enemy, who seemed to be beating about the
neighbourhood. Indeed, at one time they crossed a river, some three
leagues distant from the town, on the Madrid road, by means of pontoons,
obliging the Spanish troops doing duty thereabouts to retire upon
Santander.
One evening an orderly dragoon came post haste from Colonel Arbuthnot,
to inform me that the Carlists were beating about our quarters, with
orders to hold myself, and the whole of the prisoners and convalescents,
in readiness to leave the convent at a moment’s notice; but not to stir
until the Spanish guard doing duty over the convent had retired, in
which case our retreat was to be covered by them.—Covered by them
indeed! Here was a pretty predicament! upwards of three hundred British
soldiers, without arms, under the auspices of a parcel of Spaniards! We
had not a single stand of fire-arms, excepting my servant’s rifle; for
even the Lancers, that were performing orderly duty, had been deprived
of all but their swords. I instantly sent for the sergeant-major, and
acquainted him with the orders received, directing him to get the men in
readiness. I then ordered a couple of the Lancers to ride round and
reconnoitre, and being assured by the Captain of the Spanish guard of
his duly warning me before he marched, I laid myself full dressed on my
bed.
I had just dozed off, when in drove two of the dragoons, informing me
that our Spanish guard had retired, and that there was every reason to
believe that the Carlists were in the wood behind the convent, indeed
that we were surrounded; here was a blessing, not even shaving time
allowed us by the Carlists. However, I instantly ordered the men to fall
in as quietly as possible, and putting them under the command of
Lieutenant de Becker of the 6th, and placing Captain Deacon (who at the
time had blisters applied to his head and breast) on an old door, borne
on the shoulders of men, off they started. Having thus cleared the
convent, the sergeant-major, a few dragoons, and some Irishmen armed
with sticks, covered their retreat. As we were about to follow the rest,
two Spanish soldiers made their appearance, nearly out of breath, with
their muskets and bayonets fixed. It appeared that, in their hurried
flight, they had forgotten the Captain’s cloak. Here was a lucky
chance!—Up went their heels and down they went on their backs, and, in a
twinkling, their muskets and pouches were wrenched from them and
shouldered for our own protection. The reader is, I expect, with his
hair on end, anticipating some dreadful encounter; but this, after all,
turned out, like most of our air-castles to be nothing but a bottle of
smoke—though contrary to expectation, it certainly saved the life of
Captain Deacon, whose illness took a turn through the confusion, and he
recovered rapidly.
Fortunately the night was of a fine starlight, and we reached Santander
at about three in the morning, and discovered that the whole blunder was
occasioned by the Spanish troops moving without orders; we of course
returned to our old quarters.
Shortly after this, two officers—Captain Shields of the 8th, and Major
Clark of the 6th, were sent from head-quarters to persuade, if possible,
the men to rejoin their regiments. They requested me to order them to
fall in; which I did,—and the whole formed in a field opposite the
convent.
The two officers, as their eyes first glanced on the gloomy ranks before
them, stared in silent astonishment. “Good God!” at length ejaculated
Shields, with deep emphasis, “can it be possible that these men once
formed my old company, the grenadiers!” It was too true.
Clark, stepping forward, appealed to them as their old officer, and
pathetically begged of them to listen. Shields did the same. But they
would not, they said, say or do anything until Captain Costello had
given his opinion, on whom, as an old soldier, they relied for just and
practical advice.
At this, I of course came forward, and addressed them somewhat to this
effect:
That the winter was fast approaching, and it was the intention of the
General to keep them there during that season: the privations
consequently, which they would have to undergo would be even worse than
those they had already experienced. Under these circumstances,
therefore, and the prospect of better food, and the chances that might,
more than probably, offer themselves for their escaping through the
Pyrenees into France, which closely bordered on San Sebastian, I would
strongly urge them to return to their regiments. I spoke to them as a
man who had once borne a musket. Their claims I acknowledged as
just.[31]
Here they all produced their agreements, duly signed by the officer with
whom they first engaged, to serve for one or two years, as might be
preferred by the individual so entering the service of her Catholic
Majesty the Queen of Spain.
Being empowered to grant full rations to those who volunteered, I also
promised them immediate relief to their hunger.
They requested a quarter of an hour’s consideration, and in that time
decided, on condition of further certificates being given them, so that
they should be obliged to serve only for the two years from the time
they first engaged. These, signed by Colonel Arbuthnot and myself, were
afterwards given them; and a number, to the amount of fifty
non-commissioned officers and privates, who that night volunteered, sat
down, for the first time for many months, to a bellyful; but these only
were allowed it, which in this case was a wise though a cruel expedient,
for that meal bought their birthright, and, for the sake of a similar
supply to the cravings of nature, then almost extinct, eighty more
signed their names, making in all one hundred and twenty.[32]
The next morning it was my duty to march them to Santander, and embark
them on board a steamer for San Sebastian. But to get them ready for
this was a difficult task, for many of them had not even—as I before
stated—clothing to cover their nakedness. The convent was ransacked
everywhere; all the old rugs were soon monopolized, and divided amongst
them; and even the old parchment records which had been left by the
monks, were converted into covers for decency.
I never shall forget the sight, as these poor fellows slowly emerged
from the convent. Numbers alone kept them going, when, perhaps, singly,
each man would have died rather than have undergone such an exposure;
that blush which should have for ever dyed the cheeks of their
oppressors, now mantled up those of the unfortunate victims, and they
bent their heads in agony as they hurried through the streets of
Santander. The inhabitants, struck at the melancholy procession,
murmured, as they crowded after them, “Povres Ingleses! povres
Ingleses!” (poor English! poor English!) So much for the generous
English, “defenders of the liberty of nations.” It was a great relief to
me to see them on board. I returned to Carbon the same evening, and
found those whom I had left in a state of mutiny; for two of their
number had been wounded, during my absence, by the Spanish guard. One,
belonging to the Lancers, had been shot through the arm; the other, one
of the 6th, had received a bayonet stab in the breast. This, I was
informed, was occasioned by their having strayed beyond the boundaries.
I spoke to the Captain of the Spanish guard, on the cowardice of his men
firing on the unarmed English. He answered me only with a shrug of the
shoulder. My blood rose at his apathy—old times, when I myself had been,
as it were, one of themselves, flashed across my memory, and lighted up
the indignation that now stifled all thoughts of my rank and present
distance. I felt as a man; and could not forbear telling him, that, had
his British victims been armed, I would have made him pay dearly for his
cold-blooded villainy. But the phlegmatic scoundrel had neither courage
nor sympathy, and so far from granting me the satisfaction I required of
him, shrunk from me with the hangman’s plea, that he had merely
fulfilled orders.
What most surprised me was, that the men, naked as they were, had not
rushed on the Spaniards, and taken their arms from them. But on second
reflection, I attributed this want of spirit to their half-starved,
weakened condition—surrounded, too, as they were, by officers on whom
even their claims of compatriotism seemed lost amid the general apathy
to every manly feeling.
I had the poor men conveyed to the general hospital, and put myself
immediately in communication with Colonel Arbuthnot. But the gallant
Commandant of Santander had become so completely Spanish, that no reply
even was sent; and I was obliged, at last, to press the matter
personally.
“We must not quarrel with the Spaniards,” was all I could get out of
him. On my return I used every means in my power to alleviate their
forlorn condition. But my authority, as Commandant, was a mere mockery,
for we were entirely at the disposal of the Spanish guard. It was truly
painful, despite the frequency of the scene, to witness the daily return
of misery. Midnight, that hour when wretchedness generally forgets
itself in sleep, seemed to have lost the influence here, its silence
being broken by the passing footsteps of those unhappy men, as many
passed the time telling me the oft repeated list of grievances, while
they promenaded the gloomy avenues and colonnades of the old convent. At
times, and when the moon shone, the whole building had the appearance of
a splendid mausoleum, and the sufferers as they passed from cell to
cell, looked unearthly, and put me in mind almost of the fabled and
ghastly inhabitants of the other world.
By custom, however, we got so familiarized to everything revolting,
that, at length, these horrors became as ordinary matters of course. A
journalist would have thrown his pen aside, in the monotony of daily
cruelty; and I myself, by the lapse of a few years, am only now, as it
were, aroused from the lethargy it had thrown me into. I look back with
a thrill. I see them still, as it were, before me,—the fierce look!—the
quick order!—the lash!—and the gaunt, misery-stricken countenances of
one hundred and fifty men, and all the changes their tyrants had rung
amongst them!
Finding my complaints so unavailing, I made up my mind to quit the
service; and, intimating my wishes to head-quarters, that a medical
board might examine my wounds, I handed over my commandantship to a
Captain Oakley, of the 2nd Lancers. I met this gentleman on his way to
the convent, with a couple of sets of cats, which he had procured from
the British frigate—I believe the ‘Castor’—then lying in the harbour of
Santander. He pulled them out of his pocket, and, with an air well
suited to his meaning, gave me to understand that he would have no
“nonsense!”
While awaiting an answer from head-quarters, I was obliged, much against
my inclination, to remain at the convent. This, however, gave me an
opportunity of witnessing his first essay at the command. The wants and
privations the men had hitherto endured he did not deem sufficient; and,
as a last resort, they were, to the number of one hundred and fifty
placed at the top of the building, in one room, the windows of which
having been totally demolished, laid them open to the northern aspect,
in the cold month of November, without even the poor advantage of a
fire-place. Two Spanish soldiers were posted sentry, with loaded
muskets, to prevent ingress or egress. One of these was employed to
escort the men to the closet, one at a time, by day; and, at night, a
large tub, placed in the centre of the room, served every purpose till
morning.
I was one day on my return from Santander to this gloomy prison-house,
when I met a party, bearing on their shoulders, the body of a man on a
shutter, to the general hospital. On inquiry, I found his name to be
John Bryant, of the 6th—an invalid, not a prisoner. This poor fellow, it
appeared, while by order of Captain Oakley, in the act of cutting a few
boughs, to make a broom to sweep the cloisters with, was watched by one
of the Spanish soldiers, and, while in the tree, deliberately shot. Poor
Bryant fell instantly through the branches, mortally wounded, the ball
entering at the breast and passing out at the shoulder. He died the same
night; but, as usual, his murder was not taken the slightest notice of.
An order at length arrived, and a medical board having sat accordingly,
I was pronounced, through wounds, unfit for further service. I packed up
my traps, and hastened to leave the neighbourhood. I felt as few ever
felt before: and, even now, seated in my family circle, though years
have intervened, seem to breathe anew the freedom I experienced at my
deliverance from this worse than purgatory.
Thus ends my military career; which, little as it can boast of leading
incident, may yet prove interesting. I shall, however, feel contented if
it but assist to wile away a dull hour, or keep alive the recollection
of personal enterprise among those of my veteran comrades whom war has
permitted to live and peruse it. It is but a plain, unvarnished attempt
to relate my individual adventures; and, perhaps, like the works of most
men, might have amused its author, but for the fatigues and intricacies
of compilation. “The fame of a scholar,” an eminent writer has observed,
“is acquired only in solitude; and he connects but a chain of silent and
cool reflection.” With me it is different: all my recollections are
mixed up in extraordinary broils and confusions, which make it no easy
task, from out so great a variety, to connect even the few incidents,
thus huddled together in the
ADVENTURES OF A SOLDIER.
THE END.
LONDON:
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LIGHTS AND SHADES OF MILITARY LIFE.
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“A narrative of stirring interest, which should be in the hands of every
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HISTORY OF THE WAR
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ADVENTURES OF A NAVY LIEUTENANT.
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FOOTNOTES
Footnote 1:
A few months back, while on duty at the Tower, one of the warders
informed me a most extraordinary lady was anxious to see me, when, to
my astonishment, Mrs. Plunket stood before me, and while she held a
handkerchief by one hand close to that part where her nose formerly
stood, with her other hand she squeezed mine, and in the most
plaintive tone told me of poor Tom’s death. It appeared that herself
and Plunket, who usually tramped through different parts of the
country, and procured a livelihood selling needles and tapes, while
passing through a street in Colchester, suddenly staggering a few
paces fell down and expired. The death of Tom and the sight of Mrs.
Plunket, whose extraordinary countenance excited disgust as well as
pity, spread like wildfire through the town, and it came to the ears
of several retired officers living in that city, who happened to read
my description of him; the result was that a handsome collection was
set on foot, and the amount of twenty pounds was collected for the
widow. The lady of a colonel also, entirely out of her own pocket,
paid for the funeral of poor Tom, with a handsome tombstone to
perpetuate his memory. This she told me with many sobs. Thus ended the
career of the gallant but unfortunate Plunket.
Footnote 2:
As the reader may not be aware of the weight each rifleman had to
carry during this long and harassing march, this too by men considered
the lightest troops in our service, they are as follows: Knapsack and
straps, two shirts, two pair of stockings, one pair of shoes, ditto
soles and heels, three brushes, box of blacking, razor, soap-box and
strap, and also at the time an extra pair of trowsers, a mess-tin,
centre-tin and lid, haversack and canteen, great coat and blanket, a
powder-flask filled, a ball bag containing thirty loose balls, a small
wooden mallet used to hammer the ball into the muzzle of our rifles;
belt and pouch, the latter containing fifty rounds of ammunition,
sword-belt and rifle, besides other odds and ends, that at all times
are required for a service-soldier. Each squad had also to carry four
bill-hooks, that weighed six pounds each, so that every other day each
man had to carry it; thus equipped, with from seventy to eighty pounds
weight, this too in the melting month of July. Not content with the
above, the General gave strict orders for each man to have his canteen
filled with water before commencing the day’s march every morning.
Through being thus overloaded, four hundred of the battalion died a
few months after our arrival, without a single shot being fired. But
the survivors soon found out the cause of this mortality, as I don’t
think there was a man in the regiment five years after, before we left
the country, could show a single shirt or a pair of shoes in his
knapsack.
Footnote 3:
The Honourable Captain Pakenham was a brother-in-law to the Duke of
Wellington. This gentleman, who belonged to my regiment, was much
beloved by us all. He was always so considerate! On every occasion
when the fresh arrival of necessaries, meat, wine, &c., brought the
men in crowds about the stores, he invariably would abide his turn,
and, as though he were one of ourselves, oblige every new comer,
whatever his rank, to submit to the same. This, though mere justice,
for its rare occurrence with the other officers, was never forgotten
by the men. Since his return from the Peninsula I have been told he
was ordered to New Orleans, where he was killed.
Footnote 4:
I must here remark, that these shells were thrown at us by mistake, as
the town was in the possession of our friends the Portuguese, under
the command of Colonel Cox, a British officer, who from our position
being near the enemy, as well as our green dress, must have mistaken
us for the latter. Almeida was afterwards taken by the French.
Footnote 5:
Strange as it may appear, this ball may be this hour felt with as much
ease as the first day it entered, forty-two years back.
Footnote 6:
Among the officers wounded was the present Sir H. Smith, his brother
Tom also. The former being on the staff had a _cedan_ with two mules
to carry him; the latter was packed with the men in bullock-carts.
Footnote 7:
With regard to knapsacks, of which so much has been spoken, I cannot
see why they could not be carried by the quarter-master or
commissariat, and given out with the same ease as the rations. This I
apply only to the rifles and other light troops, who, being always
exposed and in advance, have need of all their energies and activity
to render them fully effective.
Footnote 8:
Any of my readers passing through Knightsbridge, may chance to observe
a tall military figure, bent with years, a bag thrown over his
shoulders, stooping to pick up bones, &c., this person is no other
than the once redoubtable Humphrey Allen, at that time one of the
smartest and finest-looking men in our Rifles.
Footnote 9:
I have often felt surprised that our officers have not generally
adopted the plan of carrying a rifle when in action; the defence it
would afford to the individual himself in its superiority over the
sword or the pistol, which latter are mere toys in the field, would, I
imagine, bear its own argument. The additional strength also it must
give to the efficiency of the regiments generally, from the number it
would add to each volley (in the proportion of fifty to a regiment),
and the confidence it must inspire in the officers, would, one should
think, carry everything before it, nor can it prevent any officer in
keeping his eye on his men, as all riflemen, while in action, use
their own judgment by getting under cover, consequently out of sight.
Footnote 10:
This veteran soldier, who was afterwards promoted to the rank of
Sergeant-Major, through the interest of his old commander Sir Hussey
Vivian, now holds a situation in the Tower, where we frequently meet.
Footnote 11:
As some of my readers may not be acquainted with the duty and the
character of a “Forlorn-Hope,” I will proceed to explain it. On the
eve of the storming of a fortress, the breaches, &c., being all ready,
Captains of companies, on their private parade, give the men to
understand that such and such a place is to be taken by storm. Every
man then, who wishes to volunteer to head the stormers, steps forward
to the front, and his name is immediately taken down by the officer;
if none offer themselves the first men for duty are selected. With our
regiment this latter alternative was never required, as a sufficient
number were always ready.
This service, or “Forlorn-Hope,” is designated by the French in the
not less appropriate term of “Les Enfants perdus,” or “Lost Children,”
and has always to lead or make the first attack.
Footnote 12:
There is no doubt, but Wilkie, Major Napier, and indeed several others
in advance fell by the fire of the Portuguese; who being panic-struck
by the first volley they received from the town, instantly lay down on
the glacis, and commenced firing on the breach. A random shot through
the embrasure deprived my friend of life.
Footnote 13:
Grass-bags are long sacks about six feet by three, filled with grass
or hay, and so stuffed as to enable a party, in case the ladders
should not be fixed in sufficient time, by pitching them into the
trenches before them to descend with comparative safety. With us,
however, they answered a double purpose, being carried by our men in
front of their persons to prevent the effects of the enemy’s fire.
Footnote 14:
The gallantry of the Spaniards of our regiment make me believe, had
those countrymen during the war been properly commanded, they would
have made excellent soldiers.
Footnote 15:
As before stated, the French carry no haversacks.
Footnote 16:
As of late, much has been said concerning the use or non-use of the
bayonet in action, I shall here take the liberty, supported by the
above fact, of intruding my own opinions in the matter; an opinion,
which falling from the mouth of an old soldier only, might otherwise
be thought worthless, if not presumptuous.
It is generally known of course that Riflemen, when in action, are at
all times extended, and have always better opportunities of watching
the movements of two armies, than those troops who are compelled to
march in compact and closely-wedged masses.
Both parties, it will be observed by the above, were with their
fire-locks unloaded, the British having fired and charged before the
French could reload, and both consequently had no resource left but
their bayonets. Now I would ask the no-bayonet gentlemen, if the
French, who well knew their mutual position, had seen the British
advance with bare muzzles or with no bayonets, would they have given
way with their own bayonets fixed to oppose them. If they did, they
ought to be hanged, from the Colonel downwards. On the other hand, if
the English had attempted to charge with bare muzzles against fixed
bayonets, each man from the commanding officer down should be sent to
a madhouse.
Upon this then I should say, if my opinion be acceptable, that the
bayonets had better remain in present use until such time as we can
bargain with the French or other enemies to disuse them.
Footnote 17:
Query Countess of Gazan.
Footnote 18:
Query Jourdain’s _bâton_.
Footnote 19:
Strange to say, this very sergeant, whose name was Lee, and who had
the fame of being the best boxer in his regiment, after the battle of
Waterloo, lay wounded in the bed next to mine in the hospital at
Antwerp. “Holloa, Rifleman!” said he, when he first perceived me near
him, “don’t you recollect me!” At first I did not. “By God,” said he,
again, “you frightened me more than a bit at Vittoria, when guarding
your money-bags.” This soon settled the recognition; but, poor fellow!
he died after the amputation of his arm.
Footnote 20:
Tom served under General Whitelock in South America.
Footnote 21:
The brass clasp or hook that fastens the belt.
Footnote 22:
This being only a report amongst us wounded men, little reliance can
be placed on it.
Footnote 23:
28, Berkeley Square, March 2nd, 1819.
I strongly recommend to your notice, and to the attention of the Board
of Chelsea, the bearer, Edward Costello, late sergeant in the first
battalion Rifle Brigade, for an increase of pension for his gallant
services, he having been discharged in consequence of wounds received
in action.
A. F. BARNARD,
Major-General Commanding,
First Battalion Rifle Brigade.
To General Sir E. DUNDAS,
&c., &c., &c.
Colonel-in-Chief, Rifle Brigade,
To this hour it remained unaltered.
Footnote 24:
This Conner now resides at Chelsea, and I am happy to say, in good
circumstances, at his trade as a tailor.
Footnote 25:
Now Sir Henry Bulwer.
Footnote 26:
_Vide_, General Order under Evans.
“G. O., Head Quarters, San Sebastian,
“September 2, 1835.
* * * “All provosts and their assistants are empowered to inflict
summary punishment _on the breech_ to the amount of twenty-four
lashes, according to the degree of the offence, on soldiers and
_followers_ of the army committing offences against discipline,
plundering, drunkenness, violence, and, in short, everything tending
to the subversion of good order in the army. The provost must either
witness the offence himself _or have it from the evidence of competent
eye witnesses_; the punishment in every case to be inflicted on the
spot or near the same.”
Footnote 27:
“G. O. Head Quarters, Frenada,
“November 1, 1811.
“The office of Provost Marshal has existed in all British armies in
the field * * * his authority must be limited by the necessity of the
case, and whatever be the crime of which a soldier may be guilty, the
Provost Marshal has not the power of inflicting summary punishment for
it unless _he_ should see him in the act of committing it. If he
should not see him in the act of committing it, he is directed to
report the offence to the Commander-in-chief of the army, in order
that the soldier be _tried_, and _evidence_ adduced against him.
Further the Commander of the Forces desires that it may be clearly
understood that _no officer whatever_ has a right to order the Provost
Marshal, or his assistants, to exercise the authority intrusted to
them; nor can the Provost Marshal, or his assistants, inflict
punishment on any man, except they should see him in the act of
committing a breach of orders and discipline. Their duty is, by
_vigilance_ and activity, to _prevent_ those breaches which the
Commander of the Forces is sorry to observe are too common, and to
punish those they may catch in the act.”
Footnote 28:
I feel bound, before quitting the subject, to declare it as my opinion
that the bread was not actually poisoned; the materials of which it
was made, no doubt, were of the worst description, of which the
colour, which was of the most disheartening black, gave every proof;
when two days old it would be as hard almost as wood, and in another
similar lapse of time, it would mildew, and become green as old
copper. The men, however, who were not taken ill, always fed upon it,
from necessity; while most of the officers, who were served with good
white bread (but at a less ration), were equally attacked by the
sickness. The baker, therefore, in this respect, did no more than what
our own contractors would have done, and which the abominable quality
of almost everything sent us went to testify. That he conspired to
favour Don Carlos’s cause I have no doubt, and the punishment was
necessary, and a wholesome one.
Footnote 29:
There were seven brothers of the Cummings in our first battalion Rifle
Brigade; the above Allan was sergeant in the band, and was killed at
Vittoria 21st June, 1813.
Footnote 30:
This I was informed by the surgeon who dressed them afterwards.
Footnote 31:
Vide first article of conditions of service:
“I. The time of service to be for _one_ or _two_ years, as may be
preferred by the individual engaging to enter her Majesty’s service.”
Footnote 32:
The whole of these two regiments were almost entirely Scotch, a people
whom I ever found justly submissive and brave. Each man of these
signed his name himself; and, by the ready manner, gave full proof of
their being well informed as well as intellectual. It will be
recollected, also, that, up to the time of their laying down arms,
they had carried them only on a matter of good faith; for not one of
them had taken the oath of allegiance to either the British or the
Spanish Government. In the Rifles none laid down their arms or joined
the discontented. I had raised them myself; and they were the only
regiment that had not been buoyed up with false representations. The
deficiency of allegiance was universal, I believe, in the Legion; and,
under these facts, I feel surprised that any man was punished by
court-martial. They virtually were not a Spanish or a British force,
and constituted mere camp followers, answerable only—with certain
exceptions—to civil authorities, and not to their officers, who, I
presume, are now accountable to British laws for the cruelties they
inflicted.
Transcriber's Note
Italics are represented by _underscores_.
Inconsistent hyphenation of words in the original book has been
retained. Punctuation errors were fixed. The name Josh was followed by a
period/full stop in the early parts of the book and not in the later
parts. This was left as printed. Some additional corrections have been
made, as detailed below:
p. xi and p. 144 Campaign of 1812 -> Campaign of 1813
p. xiv H cold-blooded Spaniard -> A cold-blooded Spaniard
p. xiv Meda -> Medal
p. 3 oyer -> over
p. 29 two of three -> two or three
p. 39 dreafully -> dreadfully
p. 59 we passed trough the town -> we passed through the town
p. 63 skirmishing end endeavouring -> skirmishing and endeavouring
p. 103 then then addressed -> then addressed
p. 144 Alamada -> Allamada
p. 171 goold -> gold
p. 216 regi- -> regiment
p. 221 catch in the fact -> catch in the act
p. 235 Chapelgoris -> Chapelgorris
p. 239 segeant-major -> sergeant-major
p. 242 Monte a el ciel -> Monte a el cielo
p. 245 been dismissed the Legion -> been dismissed from the Legion
p. 264 wofully -> woefully
End of Project Gutenberg's Adventures of a Soldier, by Edward Costello