Prisoners
If ever a band of prisoners could be described as jovial it was
the little band with whom Tom Clifford was travelling. For the
confinement at sea made a trip ashore most enchanting; then the quick
and unaccustomed movement, the efforts more than one of them were
forced to make continually to keep in their saddles, provoked an
amount of amusement which even infected their escort.
"I was as near off as anything that time," shouted the irrepressible
Jack, when his horse had shied at a rock and nearly thrown him. "Wish
one of these fellows would rope me to the saddle instead of leading
me as if I were a child."
"What does he say, monsieur?" asked the trooper riding near our hero,
and at once Tom explained.
"That would not be good for him," laughed the man. "If we have to
gallop at any time, and the horse fell, he would be left to be
butchered. I tell you, monsieur, these peasants are terrible. I do
not say that they are not justified, for our men have behaved cruelly
to them. But the peasants care nothing whether it be horse soldiers
or foot. If a man of ours falls into their hands he is butchered;
that would be your fate also if you were to lag behind."
Every now and again, as the small party made for the hills, groups of
men were seen hovering in the distance. And once, when the squadron
was riding through a narrow defile, rocks descended from above.
"Gallop!" commanded the officer, and striking their heels into the
flanks of the horses the soldiers soon passed through. When the dusk
of evening began to fall, shots rang out in the distance, and one of
the troopers was wounded.
"I see men gathering in front of us," suddenly exclaimed one of the
sergeants. "They fill the gap through which we must pass to gain the
road for the hill."
"Halt!" came from the commander. "Place the prisoners in the centre.
We will ride forward steadily till within shot of them, and then
we will charge. There is nothing else to be done. To retreat would
be to have the whole population of the country about us to-morrow;
monsieur," he said, as if by an afterthought; "you and your comrades
realize the danger?"
Tom nodded at once. "We see the position, _Monsieur le Capitaine_,"
he said. "You are a detached party away from the army."
"We are one of hundreds of squadrons told off to clear the country
during the retreat of our armies across the Tagus," came the answer.
"From to-day we march for Spain, and I hope we may never put foot in
Portugal again. It is not a pleasant duty, this burning of villages
and crops, but orders must be obeyed. We are detached, as you say,
and to join our friends we have to run the gauntlet. Monsieur and his
friends can have temporary liberty, and arms with which to fight, if
they will give their word of honour to respect me and my men, and
hand themselves over later on as captives to us."
"I will speak with my friends," replied Tom at once, overjoyed at
the proposal; for he could see easily that there was a strenuous
time before the little party, and in the event of a reverse to the
troopers the position of himself and his friends might be very
serious. Armed and ready they would be in a different position.
Rapidly, therefore, he explained the position to Mr. Riley.
"Agreed!" cried the latter eagerly. "Not that I'm much use either
way. It takes me all my time to stick to this animal, let alone use
a weapon; for I have only one useful arm. Tell him we agree. You
men,"--and he swung round on Andrews and Howeley, the two men of
the 60th accompanying them, "you men understand the position, no
doubt. We are fighting for the Portuguese, and against the French;
but here is a case where our friends will not know us. They will
kill us with the others before we can explain. It is a question of
self-preservation."
"Right, sir," answered Andrews cheerily. "We're game, and though
it'll be hard luck to have to become prisoners again, we see the
reason. We give our word."
"Good, then," exclaimed the officer of the party with relief, and at
once gave orders to his troopers to throw off the leading reins, and
to hand each of the prisoners a sabre. To Mr. Riley he presented a
pistol.
"For you, monsieur," he bowed. "If there is need, you will know how
to use it. Now, men," he commanded, "we will ride forward in column
of files, and when I shout, spread out into line. A charge should
carry us through them. Gallop right through the village and up the
road. Forward!"
Nowhere, perhaps, were there finer troopers to be found than those
in the French army invading the Peninsula. Napoleon had, in fact,
swamped the country with divisions of magnificent cavalry, with
numerous veterans in the ranks, and under leaders skilled in cavalry
work who had taken their squadrons into action many and many a
time, and had won victories. The preceding years of this eventful
campaign in the Peninsula had seen detached parties of French
horsemen penetrating far into country held by Wellington's troops,
or by Spanish or Portuguese irregulars; and while the former had
taught them many a lesson, and had, indeed, shown the French troops
that if they were brave, the lads from England were equal to them,
there is little doubt that, just as Wellington and our armies had
learned to despise the Portuguese irregulars, and those of Spain in
particular, the French held them even more in contempt. It was the
detached bands of guerrillas, however, that did them the greatest
injury. No wandering party of horsemen could bivouac without fear
of having sentries and outposts murdered in the night. Sudden and
ferocious attacks were frequent, and at this time, when the French
were retreating before our armies, and when without shadow of doubt
they had treated the Portuguese peasantry and townspeople with
horrible cruelty, a detached squadron such as the one Tom accompanied
was liable to annihilation unless handled with great skill. However,
this squadron in particular and its officer seemed to make light of
the difficulties before them. They were accustomed to the hatred of
the peasants, accustomed also to see them take to their heels when
they charged, and disappear in their mountains. It was, therefore,
with a cheer, in which Tom and his friends joined, that they jogged
forward in column of file, their sabres drawn and ready, their leader
a horse's length in advance of them.
Tom rose in his stirrups and surveyed the enemy. Even through the
gloom he could see that there must be two hundred at least gathered
at the entrance of the village through which the squadron must pass
to reach the road to the heights. Shots came from the mass every now
and again, while there were red flashes from the buildings. Shrill
cries of rage and hate reached his ears, and amongst the voices he
could distinguish those of women.
Phit! Phit! Bullets whizzed overhead, while the trooper next to him
suddenly gave vent to a growl of anger.
"Struck me in the arm, monsieur," he said, after a few moments. "I
would rather far receive a wound in proper battle than from these
wolves. But you will see; they will scatter as we charge. We shall
cut down a few of the laggards, burn the village, and thus light our
way to the mountains. Poof! The Portuguese are brutes, the Spaniards
are gentlemen beside them."
That was the way in which the French looked at the nations in the
Peninsula. Truth compels us to admit that they had reason for liking
the Spaniards; for not only were they able to play with them as if
they were children, utterly despising them as soldiers, but also they
obtained real help from them in their campaign, and though England
had sent troops to repel the invader, and to help the Spaniards
as well as the Portuguese to rid their country of oppression, yet
throughout the campaign the Spaniards in particular foiled the wishes
of Wellington and his generals in every direction. They withheld
supplies even from the wounded. They parted with nothing save at an
exorbitant price, and always there were traitors amongst them ready
to disclose our plans to the enemy. The Portuguese, too, were not
guiltless in this matter; but, on the whole, their irregulars did
some excellent work, and they at least made an attempt to help the
British to drive Napoleon and his armies out of the Peninsula.
"Canter!" the command rang out loudly as a wide splash of flame
came from the peasants, while bullets clipped the air, sang shrilly
overhead, and sometimes hit horses or accoutrements. Tom heard a
sharp metallic sound, and lost a stirrup, shot away by one of these
bullets; but he managed to secure it again, though he was no great
horseman.
"Form line on the left!" The command rang out, while answering howls
and shouts came from the village. "Charge!"
Tom could see the commander standing in his stirrups, his sword
raised overhead, his face turned towards his men. And that
exhilarating shout, the excitement in the air, the bullets and the
cries, sent his blood surging through him. Let us remember that Tom
was young, and possessed of excellent health and spirits, also that
soldiering was no new ambition with him. Fear for the future he
had none, but all the while he was wondering how the matter would
progress, and what would happen supposing the villagers held their
ground and refused to be driven from the village. The hammer of the
horses' hoofs, the jingle of bits and stirrups, and the sharp reports
of muskets sent a thrill through his frame from head to foot, and in
a moment he was leaning forward like the troopers, his sabre down
over his knee, all eagerness to reach the enemy. Nor was it long
before the squadron got to striking distance. The peasants held their
ground till the horses were fifty paces away, and then raced into the
houses. A storm of bullets came from windows and doorways, and then,
of a sudden, there was a clatter in front, and the commander of the
squadron disappeared from view entirely. By then Tom was within ten
paces of him; for the formation had brought him to the very centre.
"Halt!" he bellowed, seeing what had happened. "The road is blocked.
The peasants have dug a huge ditch, and the commander has gone into
it. Here--hold my horse!"
He flung the reins to a trooper riding at his knee, and slid to
the ground. A moment later he was down in the rough and deep ditch
which the peasants had made ready, and leaning over the unfortunate
commander of the squadron found that he was dead.
"_Il est mort!_" he shouted to the troopers, making his way back to
his horse at once.
"Monsieur, this is terrible!" cried the trooper who had held the
reins. "We are being shot down rapidly, and nothing is being done
to help us. The captain is dead and his lieutenant; I think the
sergeants are also hurt."
The engagement, so far as the squadron was concerned, had indeed come
to a curious and dangerous halt. The troopers sat bunched together,
some of the men reining their horses back as if about to flee. Yet
no order came. There was no one to give the word of command. It was
then that Tom showed the stuff of which he was made. It is true Mr.
Riley should perhaps have come to the fore, or Jack; but neither
could speak the language, while, in any case, it was the duty of one
of the troopers to conduct the action. However, when no one comes
forward, and men are being shot down rapidly, it is clear that he who
takes command on his shoulders, and acts wisely, is a blessing to his
comrades. Jack took the post without a thought. To sit still longer
was madness, and quite impossible.
"Wheel about," he shouted in French. "Ah, they have closed in on us!
We are caught between two fires. Forward, men, charge!"
He led them at the enemy at full gallop; but what could fifty men do
against some hundreds? It happened that this squadron of horse had
been watched by the peasants, and for two days past efforts had been
made to surround it. The wild inhabitants of this mountainous region,
burning with hatred of the invader, had been brought together, and
gradually, as the horsemen retreated from the coast and got into
difficult country, the net had been drawn about them. There were
perhaps five hundred peasants in rear of the party when Tom faced
them about and charged. A crashing discharge of musketry swept
the ranks of the troopers, dropping a dozen of the men from their
saddles, and then began a rush on the part of the enemy. It looked,
indeed, as if the remnant would be annihilated, and slashed to pieces
where they stood. Tom looked anxiously and swiftly about him, and
perceiving a building on the outskirts of the village, a little to
one side, he instantly decided to occupy it.
"Right wheel!" he shouted. "Now gallop to that building. If the door
is big enough, and we can open it, ride right in. Forward! Clear the
rabble coming towards us."
It happened that another section of the circle was approaching the
scene of the action from the direction of the building towards which
he and the troopers were now making, and these at once opened fire.
But Tom set heels to his horse, and in a minute he and the men
supporting him burst amongst the peasants, slashing at them to right
and left, riding them down, and scattering them in every direction.
It was exciting work while it lasted, and it had the effect of
allowing the party a little breathing time. They rode up to the door
of the building, to find it was a church, and in a twinkling the door
was open. Up the five steps leading to it rode Tom, and after him
came his comrades.
"Dismount," he commanded. "Draw your carbines and scatter about the
place, to make sure that no windows or doors are open. Two of you
stand guard over the horses."
It was pitch dark within the church; but a trooper quickly discovered
a torch, and then some candles stored away in a box.
"It won't do to keep them burning," said Tom, thinking rapidly. "The
light would help the enemy to shoot us; but we must have something
with which to inspect the place. Ah, I know--Andrews!"
"Yes, sir?"
The big rifleman was standing stiffly at attention before Tom, his
arm at the salute.
"Take the torch and this trooper with you. Go round; return when you
have inspected, and report."
The soldier saluted again with as much briskness as he would have
displayed had Tom been a regular officer, and went away with one of
the troopers whom Tom called.
"Howeley!" he shouted.
"Sir?"
Like Andrews, the man was drawn up with the rigidity of a bayonet.
"Collect all ammunition, place it in a central position, and dish it
out ten rounds at a time. Report the total amount."
"Yes, sir."
The fine fellow went off like a rocket to perform the task, while Tom
called to the troopers.
"My lads," he shouted, "let us be silent; I have sent a man to
inspect the place, and will post you all presently. Another will
collect the ammunition, and give it out ten rounds at a time. Don't
forget that we may be held up here for hours, and our lives will
depend on the amount of cartridges we have. Now, I want two of you
for another purpose."
Two men at once came forward. "We are ready, monsieur," one of them
said. "For the moment we and our comrades look to you as the leader.
Indeed you are a leader; but for your quickness and decision we
should be back there at the entrance to the village shot down beside
our comrades."
"Then collect all saddle bags," said Tom, "pile them in a corner,
and with them all water bottles. They are the most important. I'm
not afraid of starvation; for we have horses here, and one of them
slaughtered will provide us with ample food. It is the water that is
important; see to it, please."
It was perhaps some ten minutes later that the defences of the church
were ready. Tom busied himself posting men at all vulnerable spots,
and then clambered into the tower with Andrews. It was quite a modest
erection, some fifty feet in height, but sufficient to give a view
over the village. Lights could be seen in many directions, while
shouts echoed through the air. There was the tramp of feet also, and
a dull mass over at the entrance to the village.
"They're gloating over the poor chaps they shot and knocked out of
their saddles, sir," said Andrews. "It was sharp business; I was
never in a brisker, and I've done two years of the campaign already.
Came out in 1808, sir, and went home wounded. Beg pardon, sir, but
what might your corps be?"
"Corps? Corps?" exclaimed Tom, mystified for the moment. "Oh, I
follow! I'm not in the army, Andrews. I was on my way out to Oporto,
or, more correctly, I was going to sail for that place when I was
impressed and sent aboard a British frigate. We had that action with
the French man-of-war, and you were released. News had come out to
the frigate, meanwhile, that I ought never to have been impressed,
and so the captain sent me on in the sloop to Oporto. By rights I
ought to be seated at a desk adding up long, dry columns."
Andrews gave vent to a gruff expression. "Strike me!" he cried, as
if dumbfounded by the information; "and I and Howeley and all them
French boys took you for an orficer. Anyways, sir, beggin' your
pardon, you've done handsomely. It was a lucky thing for us that you
took the command, for Mr. Barwood ain't fit for it. He got knocked
out by the first bullet almost, and it was as much as he could do
to stick to his saddle till we reached here. Mr. Riley ain't no
better. If Howeley hadn't held him he'd have been left outside to be
murdered. This here's a tough little business."
It proved, in fact, a fortunate thing for all concerned that Tom
had taken the command. There are some who might express the opinion
that he should not have done so, that it displayed an uppish spirit.
Granted all that; but uppishness is just what is required in moments
of stress and danger. The lad who is modest at all times, and yet who
can come to the fore when circumstances urgently call for a leader,
is a lad of the right sort, a benefactor to his comrades. In this
case Tom had undoubtedly done the right thing, and, moreover, had
done it well.
"It was real smart," said Andrews respectfully. "Beggin' pardon
again, sir; there's many who would have been cornered. To go forward
was impossible, to retreat out of the question, seeing as there
were three hundred or more of the ruffians behind us. This was the
only course. It's queer to think that we, who are fighting for the
Portuguese against the French, should be boxed up here in danger of
having our throats slit by those who ought to be friends."
"It's the fortune of war, Andrews," declared Tom. "I'm sorry for the
wretches outside. By all accounts the French hate them intensely, for
the Portuguese have shown more spirit than have the Spanish. They
have contested the rights of the invaders from the beginning, and
as a result the French have burned their villages and treated them
badly. Indeed I believe they have behaved with the grossest cruelty.
As a result there are reprisals, and we are swept up in one of these,
and are likely to have a warm time of it before we are free."
"It's bound to be an ugly business," admitted Andrews. "I can hear
them coming now."
"Then we'll go to the men," said Tom. "I'll give them orders not to
fire till I tell them. Of course I shall make an attempt to win over
the peasants."
"Eh? How's that, sir?" asked Andrews. "What about their lingo?"
"You forget I was meant for Oporto. I and my family have had
associations with Portugal and Spain for a long while, and my cousins
are Spanish. I speak both languages, but not well, I fear. I always
hated lessons, and now wish to goodness I had been a little more
diligent. However, I can make myself understood easily, and will try
to win the peasants over."
They clambered down the long, rough ladder that led from the belfry,
and went amongst the men, Tom warning all of them to hold their fire
till he shouted. Meanwhile Howeley had reported to him that there
was ammunition sufficient to supply each man with forty-two rounds.
As for food and drink, to his dismay he was informed that there was
little of either; so that it looked as if the contest could not last
for long.
"We've just twenty-two men all told, counting yourself and the other
officers," reported Andrews, some minutes later, saluting Tom as
if he had no doubt as to his position. "Every window and door is
guarded, and from what I can see of the troopers they are ready for
any fighting. It's queer to think that we who were prisoners are in
command, and no difficulty about it."
There was little doubt that the situation was more or less unique,
and caused Mr. Riley the utmost amusement. He, poor fellow, had been
struck in the ribs somewhat heavily, and lay in a corner, with Jack
close beside him; but he smiled when our hero at length had time to
approach him.
"My lad, you've done right well; you're a dead loss to the navy," he
smiled. "I'm not surprised; after what I saw aboard the frigate I
felt you would do something. Jack and I haven't worried you since we
got here, as we saw you wanted freedom to think and arrange matters;
but we're glad now that you're able to spare a few minutes. What will
happen?"
Tom stayed with them for a quarter of an hour, and now that he felt
that he had done all that was possible in arranging the defence, he
employed his wits and energies in seeing to his comrades. In the
case of Mr. Riley, he, with the help of Andrews and Howeley, bound
his chest very firmly with a couple of girths taken from the horses,
first of all, however, placing a pad over the wound, which was little
more than a contusion. For Jack equally simple surgery sufficed, for
a bullet had penetrated his thigh, and, the bleeding having stopped,
all that was wanted was a dressing and a bandage, and fortunately
the troopers carried these with them. They had hardly made him
comfortable when the lookout man posted in the tower reported that a
mass of men were coming.
"Remember--not a shot, my friends," Tom called out to the troops,
"and take care not to show a light. I will see to these people and
try to win them over."
He scrambled up an ancient flight of stone steps and passed on to
a ledge over the doorway, which, no doubt, served the purpose of
a pulpit in fine weather. There was a dull roar of voices coming
towards him, while the space between himself and the village seemed
to be filled with figures. Ten minutes later a mob had drawn up in
front of the church. Tom stood to his full height and hailed them.
"My friends," he shouted in Portuguese. "We are English!"
A fearful yell answered him. Shrieks of anger floated up to his ears,
while a hurricane of shots swept in his direction. Amidst the dancing
torches that many of the people carried there flashed out splashes
of flame. The vibrating roar of voices which followed had in it an
awe-inspiring note. Tom might have been on the verge of a rocky coast
on which huge breakers were thundering in their fury. That note spoke
of hatred, of an approaching triumph, of a horrible gloating on the
part of the peasants. It told better than individual words could do
what were the intentions of the enemy, what would be the fate of the
besieged if they fell into their hands. Then, of a sudden, catching a
better view perhaps of the solitary figure above them, the mob became
silent.
"My friends," called Tom, his tones clear, not a whimper in his
voice, "you have made an error. There are five Englishmen amongst
this party, five friends of the Portuguese. Let someone come forward
to identify us."
There might have been a mob of wild beasts outside by the answer. The
crowd, thinking no doubt that one of the Frenchmen was attempting to
fool them, and rob them of a prey they now counted upon as their own,
shrieked aloud and came surging forward. More shots rang out, stones
were thrown; and then, with a loud crash, the leaders came against
the door of the church. Tom clambered down to his men, stern and
pale and determined.
"Post three of them up on the ledge," he told Andrews, who was a
valuable help to him. "Let others fire through the windows when I
shout. Don't fire till then."
He repeated the words in French, and then waited till there came a
stunning blow upon the door, a blow which shook it to the hinges and
threatened to throw it down. It was clear, in fact, that the mob
outside were longing to get at the troopers. Shouts and oaths could
be heard, while the clatter of firearms was incessant.