A Tight Corner
"Now for our troops and the Peninsula," said Mr. Riley, settling
himself in a corner of the old church and fixing his eyes for a few
moments on the flaming and smoking torch which illuminated that part.
"Those peasants seem to have decided to leave us alone for to-night,
so that we have the time between this and the morning to ourselves. I
imagine, too, that we may be congratulated; since it is easier for a
few to defend a given place when they have daylight to help them. Ah,
the sentry moves!"
In the dim light cast by the torch they saw the trooper whom Tom had
stationed at the open doors of the place slowly rise to his feet and
peer out. A minute later they watched as he levelled his musket. Then
he seemed to change his mind, for of a sudden he dropped the weapon
softly to the ground and gripped his sabre. And there he remained, in
a posture that showed preparedness, for all the world like a tiger
ready to spring. Nor was it long before he suddenly awoke to action;
for there came a sound from outside the door, and a dull murmur
echoed from the distance. Creeping silently towards him, Tom peered
through the doorway over his shoulder, and for a time saw nothing.
Then, in the distance, he thought he could distinguish a dark mass
between himself and the village, while nearer at hand there were two
figures.
"Going to try a surprise," he told himself. "They have sent two of
their most daring spirits ahead, and will follow immediately."
Promptly he crept away to warn the men, who by now were asleep
for the most part; and very quietly they mustered about the door,
while those on guard at the various danger spots about the building
retained their positions.
"Gather about the door and pick up your spears," he warned the men
in a whisper. "Leave the two who are creeping on to the sentry and
Andrews."
The stalwart rifleman had already taken his post beside the sentry,
armed just as he was with a sabre, and there, like cats waiting to
pounce, they crouched. Peering out again over the carcass of the
horse, Tom saw two heads appear, and then three more immediately
behind them. One of the peasants almost instantly leaped on to the
carcass, and was joined there within a second by a comrade. There was
a loud shout from one, as if to signal to the mass behind, and then
he and his fellow leaped into the church, while others appeared just
behind the carcass of the horse.
"On them!" shouted the gallant Andrews. "Cut them down! Back with
them!"
He threw himself at the attackers, and the trooper with him. For a
minute perhaps there was a fierce scuffle, and then the two retired,
as their work was accomplished. Both the daring spirits who had
invaded the church had paid the penalty of their rashness and lay
dead upon the floor. But the others were by no means disheartened. It
appeared that a dozen or more had crept forward, and with loud shouts
they now rushed at the opening.
"Keep them off with the spears. Don't fire unless you are compelled,"
Tom ordered loudly. "We've shown them that we are ready for them, and
the less fuss we make about the matter the more they will fear us in
the future. Ah, here they come!"
By now a surging crowd had arrived outside the church, and once more
the scene of a little time before was repeated. Muskets and ancient
firearms were discharged from every point, and in the most haphazard
fashion. Indeed it may be said that in this respect the attackers
were as dangerous to one another as to the defenders of the church.
A hundred frenzied creatures hurled themselves into the doorway,
and for a while it looked as if they would sweep all before them.
But those deadly spears, harmless though they looked on a casual
inspection, did the work expected of them. Men were tossed back with
jagged wounds in the chest. Others were felled with blows over the
head, while in many instances the attackers were pushed away by sheer
strength. Then, at a signal from Tom, four of the defenders joined
Andrews and the sentry, each armed with sabres, and fell furiously
upon the mob. Shrieks filled the air; the maddened peasants dropped
their weapons and endeavoured to grapple with the soldiers. They bit
at the men and fought like fiends. Then some turned, pressing away
from the door, but only to be thrust forward again by the weight
of those behind them. It was a startled cry from someone in the
background which at length caused the mob to retire; a sudden panic
seemed to seize them and in a little while they were racing pell mell
from the building.
"Now go back to your corners and sleep," said Tom. "We have taught
them another lesson, and next time they will not be quite so bold.
Let us have a look at these fellows."
He took the torch and leaned over the two men who had been cut down
by Andrews and the trooper. They were powerful fellows, armed with
billhooks and had their boots thickly wrapped with straw so as to
deaden the sound of their coming.
"Put them outside," he ordered, "and to-morrow, at the first streak
of dawn, we will send out a party to remove the other bodies. We
may be cooped up here for a week, and things would then become
unpleasant. That reminds me; there's the question of food and water.
Well, that must settle itself; we'll wait for morning."
There was nothing else to be done; therefore, having posted his
sentries, and cautioned them to be very watchful, Tom retired to the
corner in which he had left Mr. Riley and Jack.
"A nice little skirmish, Tom," said the former. "By the time you
join the army you'll have become a veteran. These little conflicts
are all good practice, for if I am not mistaken the peasants will
make tremendous efforts when the day comes. But sit down. I'm eager
to tell my tale before another disturbance comes. Where was I?
Oh, I remember! We were talking of the troops in the Peninsula.
You understand that Napoleon's armies were massed at this time
in both Portugal and Spain. Well, Wellington--then Sir Arthur
Wellesley--sailed from Cork in July, 1808, with some ten thousand
men, and landed near Oporto. An experienced general such as he was,
one, too, fresh from conquests in India, was not likely to let the
grass grow beneath his feet, and almost at once he had a nice little
skirmish with the French at Brilos and at Rolica, causing Laborde,
their commander, to withdraw.
"He would have pushed on at once without a doubt, but information
now reached him that General Anstruther had landed at Peniche, and,
it being important to join hands with him, he left Laborde for the
moment and marched to meet the new arrivals. Almost at once General
Sir Harry Burrard appeared upon the scene, with orders from the Home
authorities to take the chief command; for these authorities were
for ever changing their minds. You observe that they send Wellesley
to the Peninsula, a general with a great and recent reputation,
and replace him within a few days by a second general, who, however
skilled, had certainly not the experience of the brilliant officer
first selected. At this time the British force was encamped at
Vimeiro, and a fierce engagement followed, forced upon our troops
by the French, and arising at that point where Wellesley's own
particular command was located. He beat the French handsomely, after
a fierce engagement in which both sides fought most gallantly,
and having done so, and received the congratulations of Sir Harry
Burrard, Wellesley promptly found himself the third in command
instead of the second; for Sir Hugh Dalrymple now arrived to take
command of the invading force, thus displaying a further change of
policy on the part of the vacillating Ministry then in charge of our
affairs.
"And now we must switch off from the forces engaged in and about
Oporto," said Mr. Riley, hitching himself a little higher in his
corner and crossing his legs for greater comfort. "We come to the
doings of Sir John Moore, a commander who won the esteem of Napoleon
himself, and whose memory will be ever honoured amongst the French.
And just let me digress for a moment. It is perhaps a most suitable
opportunity, too, for bringing the matter forward, seeing that we
are here prisoners in a sense of the French, and yet, if I make no
mistake, in command of them."
He smiled quizzingly at Tom, and laughed aloud when the latter
coloured.
"I--I couldn't well help it, sir," stuttered our hero, as if ashamed
of his action. "You see, there we were in a hole, and----"
Mr. Riley's laughter cut short the speech.
"I was only poking fun, lad," he smiled. "We all bless you for your
gallant intervention. But let me mention this matter. It is an
opportune moment, I say. I was speaking of Sir John Moore, and the
honour the French had for him. Look at the position throughout. Lads,
we are fighting gentlemen, that is the consensus of opinion amongst
officers and in the ranks. The French have fought us right gallantly.
They at least are open enemies, but the Spaniards, for whose help
we are here, disgust us. There are times, I hear, when our troops
wish matters were different, and the Spaniards the real enemies, and
sometimes the Portuguese also, for they pretend friendship, while
everywhere there are traitors, everywhere men in authority amongst
them--nobles and others who form the Juntas or Parliaments which
govern the countries now--who oppose the men who have come to free
their countries in every possible way, who are mean and contemptible
in their dealings with them, whose policy changes from day to day and
who appear at times to act as if they wished the French to remain
victorious. There! I have had my growl. Napoleon is a great man, no
doubt, with dangerous ambitions, dangerous, that is to say, to the
nations surrounding France. The French officers and men, I repeat,
are gentlemen, with whom it is an honour to cross swords. Now let
me get to the subject of Sir John Moore and his unlucky army of
penetration."
"And the retreat, which has become famous," said Jack, becoming
serious for a moment.
"Quite so, and very rightly too; for the retreat which followed the
forward march of Sir John Moore's army was conducted in a manner that
has won the praise of all. He marched for Madrid on 18 October, with
some 30,000 infantry and 5000 cavalry, all wearing the red cockade
of Spain in their caps. And perhaps it will be well to tell you at
this point that the efforts of our troops elsewhere in the command
of Wellesley, or of the other generals whom the changing policy of
our British Ministers had sent to conduct affairs, had resulted in an
agreement with the French, whereby Portugal was evacuated by their
forces and all strong places in that country given up to our men.
"Having mentioned that, I can now explain that Sir John Moore's army
was to carry the war into Spain, and marching in the direction of
Madrid to combine with the Spaniards and attempt to oust the invading
armies of Napoleon. On 13 November we hear of him at Salamanca; and
now we have an illustration of the weak and vacillating action of
the Spanish Junta, combined with as equally blameworthy action on
the part of Mr. Frere, our ambassador in Spain. Where the greatest
pains should have been taken to supply Sir John Moore with accurate
information concerning the movements of the enemy, the utmost
carelessness seems to have been the order of the day. As a result,
Sir John was in the dangerous dilemma of not knowing whether the
circumstances warranted his pushing on towards Madrid, or whether he
ought at once to begin a retreat towards the coast or into Portugal.
It was not, in fact, till an evening in December, when already the
winter was upon him, that he had certain information that Napoleon
himself was massing all his troops, and that in cavalry alone he
outnumbered the British by 12,000. Such information set our troops
retreating rapidly by way of the Galician mountains, and hot in
pursuit marched 255,000 men, with 50,000 horses, while a force of
32,000 kept in rear and held the lines of communication.
"To describe the many incidents of that memorable march would require
a length of time, and since we ought already to be asleep, preparing
ourselves for trouble to-morrow, I will merely sketch the events
which followed. For 250 miles our troops were harassed by the enemy's
cavalry, and daily there were severe skirmishes between our rearguard
and the French. Recollect that it was winter, and that the line of
retreat passed amongst the mountains, where our columns trudged
through valleys and over passes covered deep in snow. It is not
difficult to realize the terrible work this entailed, how the cold
and exposure and constant need for exertion told on men and beasts.
One can readily perceive that baggage animals broke down under the
strain, and that presently the army found itself compelled to carry
its own provisions. Add to the difficulties of the cold and snow
and the mountainous route the fact that a horde of non-combatants
accompanied the army, servants, grooms, wives and children of the
soldiers, and one sees the possibilities of added difficulty and
misery. Soon men and women began to fall by the way, as had the
horses and mules. They lagged behind, wearied and utterly careless in
their misery of the consequences. Frozen and starved they lay down
by the way, and soon the snow hid them. And always a cloud of French
horsemen followed, seeking every opportunity to charge, and dashing
in amongst the stragglers and helpless. No wonder that the army
dwindled. No wonder that its numbers fell away till but a portion
remained. But still the retreat proceeded, and ever the gallant
rearguard held the French at bay.
"On the last day of 1808 Moore quitted Astorga in Léon. On the very
next, the first day of 1809, Napoleon entered the same place with
80,000 men, his advance guard of relentless cavalry being still in
touch with our men. There the great Bonaparte remained, leaving the
final work to the Duke of Dalmatia, and conceiving it certain that
the whole British army would be exterminated. Well they might have
been too, for here we have an example of what I have mentioned.
Along the line of retreat, when the Spanish authorities could have,
and should have, made full preparations to supply our troops and
followers with rations and all that they required, they did nothing
to help. Even food was not forthcoming, so that our desperate and
hungry men were forced to pillage the inhabitants.
"It is a sad tale, lads," said Mr. Riley after a pause, "but a
gallant tale also, for Sir John and his fine fellows at length
reached Corunna, with but 14,000 all told, but with their cannon,
their colours, and their trophies intact. In fact they came to the
coast covered with honour and renown, but starved and frost-bitten,
and minus many and many a comrade. And there more fighting was
necessary, for our fleet was not in sight. The battle of Corunna
which followed ended in victory for us, but cost the lives of many
gallant fellows, and of that of Sir John Moore amongst them. Then
our troops embarked, the fleet having arrived meanwhile, and as
they sailed away, there, above the citadel where Sir John and many
a gallant comrade was buried, flew the flag of France, not at the
summit of the post, but half-masted, in respect for one who had
proved an able and a courageous leader. That, my lads, was another
proof of the feelings of the enemy for us. If fight we must,
Frenchmen at least have that generosity of feeling which allows them
to pay honour to a brave enemy."
The naval lieutenant sat back once more in his corner, his eyes fixed
upon the flaming torch. Tom looked over at the sentry, standing alert
and without a movement just behind the carcass of the horse. And
straightway he wondered whether he would live to take part in such a
retreat as that of Sir John Moore, and whether, should he be involved
in such an affair, he would conduct himself as became a British
officer. Then Mr. Riley's voice once more broke the silence.
"We have heard of the opening events of this Peninsula War," he
said. "Napoleon's invasion of Spain, and his placing of his brother
Joseph on the throne without the wish or consent of the people, had
resulted in some passages of arms between the French and English
which must have opened the eyes of Bonaparte. But it did not deter
him. Following the embarkation of Sir John Moore's army, he ordered
the invasion of Portugal again, and in a little while Soult, a famous
French marshal, held that country right down to the River Douro.
"Once more I will sketch the events which followed. Wellesley, again
in chief command, marched against the enemy, forced the passage of
the Douro, in itself a most brilliant undertaking, and drove the
French back into Spain. Following Marshal Soult, Wellesley crossed
the frontier in June, 1809, with but 20,000 British troops, though he
had some 57,000 Spanish and Portuguese soldiers to aid him, the great
majority being merely irregulars. These latter were under various
commanders, of whom I can call to memory at the moment Cuesta, the
Spanish commander-in-chief, a useless person; Romana, Blake, and
Beresford.
"At this moment the French were disposed as follows: Victor, with
some 20,000 men, was on the Tagus. Sebastiani was in La Mancha with
a force not quite so strong. Thousands were collected about Madrid,
in Galicia, Léon, and Old Castille also, while there was a division
of cavalry and 40,000 infantry stationed in Aragon and Catalonia.
Their very numbers give you an idea of the almost impossible task
imposed upon our forces. Wellesley, in fact, having entered Spain and
approached Talavera, found himself opposed to Marshal Victor, who had
King Joseph in rear, with Marshal Sebastiani's corps to aid him.
"We now arrive at the first battle of importance in the Peninsula
campaign. Talavera is a name which will be borne upon the colours
of many a regiment with lasting honour, for the fight was a fierce
and desperate one, and our victory was won only after great losses.
The battle itself was preceded by two engagements at least of some
importance, in one of which 10,000 Spanish troops distinguished
themselves by fleeing before they had come to grips with the enemy.
"Following Talavera, the smallness of our numbers and the utter
failure of the Spanish Junta to help with supplies and material
caused Sir Arthur Wellesley to retire over the Tagus into Portugal
once more, where he went into winter quarters. But the movement had
the consequences one would have anticipated. The French determined
upon another invasion of Portugal, when they hoped to drive the
British from the country, and in 1810 they came in three columns,
under the supreme command of Marshal Massena, with Junot, Ney, and
Regnier as column commanders. Lord Wellington--for he had now been
granted that title as a reward for his conspicuous services--retired
in good order to the heights of Busaco, where a terrific conflict
followed, the British troops successfully resisting the onslaught
of the French columns. Then, finding his flank turned, Wellington
retired to the lines of Torres Vedras, lines which he had been
secretly fortifying, where he might, should the French come down
upon him in overwhelming numbers, mass his men and still hold on to
a portion of Portugal. There, in fact, he remained defying the enemy
and covering Lisbon effectually.
"Thus ended the year 1810, an eventful year in the history of this
Peninsula War, for it saw at its termination a thin line of British
red opposed to masses of French troops who now held, not Spain alone,
but even Portugal, right down to the heights of Torres Vedras,
behind which Wellington and his men remained defiant, clinging to
that promontory on which is situated Lisbon. In fact they were
clinging tenaciously to the country, their fortunes seemingly rather
worse than they had been, though a huge advantage had been gained,
inasmuch as Napoleon and his hosts had learned that a few British
troops skilfully handled were easily a match for them. Nor was it
likely that we would give up the conflict. The year 1811, the year in
which we now are, began brilliantly. You may say that you are in the
midst of renewed exertions on the part of that brilliant general who
leads us; while before us there is an immense work to be done. Lads,
we have to regain Portugal before we think of ousting the French
from Spain, which will be a gigantic undertaking, with fighting in
abundance."
Jack and Tom pricked up their ears at the news. Indeed we may say
that the former had till now been filled with that vague fear which
comes to the heart of many and many a soldier who is sent to join his
regiment at war. He wonders whether his own arrival will coincide
with the defeat of the enemy, whether he will arrive too late to take
part in the stirring events to which he had looked forward.
"Then there'll be a chance," blurted out Jack, sitting up, and giving
a sharp cry of pain, for in his eagerness he had forgotten his wound.
"For you to teach Tom, and help him to become a general! Yes,"
laughed the naval officer, "heaps!"
"And you think, sir, that I shall be able to get a commission?" asked
our hero, with some amount of misgiving.
"I believe that if you manage to bring us out of this hole, and
still evade a French prison, you will be offered one promptly,"
came the gratifying reply. "But let me complete my task. We enter
upon this year of grace 1811. Let us look towards Badajoz, on the
River Guadiana, south of the Tagus. Soult advanced in this direction
to open up communications with Massena, who was massed with his
regiments on the Tagus. Wellington also advanced, and, leaving the
strong, fortified lines of Torres Vedras, crossed the Guadiana,
leaving Beresford with some 7000 British troops, and a large number
of Portuguese, to invest Badajoz. Crossing the Tagus, Wellington now
marched north towards Ciudad Rodrigo, whence Massena had taken his
troops, and established himself between the Rivers Agueda and Coa,
and within striking distance of Almeida, where was a force of the
enemy. Massena advanced against him, and our troops at once took
position on the heights of Fuentes d'Onoro, where a terrific battle
was fought, resulting in a victory for us. The French abandoned
Almeida, while Massena was recalled.
"Now we turn south again to Badajoz, for the French had retired
to Salamanca, that is, the troops lately engaged with Wellington.
Soult had been reinforced, and was well on his way to relieve the
place invested by Beresford, and, as a consequence, the latter
was forced to raise the siege, and though he could have retired
he preferred to choose a ground for fighting and give battle. He
took post at Albuera, knowing that Wellington was hastening to his
help, his troops consisting of those 7000 British, and of Spaniards
and Portuguese, the former commanded by Blake, whose arrogance and
jealousy hindered the commander not a little. It disgusts one to
have to record that many of these allies proved worse than useless
when in face of the enemy, and that but for the sturdy backbone of
British the battle would have been lost. It was, I am told, a most
confused affair, made glorious by the tenacity and bull-dog courage
of our men in face of terrible odds, and with the knowledge that
those who should have aided them, and been in the forefront, were
often skulking in the rear. The losses on both sides were huge, but
the battle ended in Soult retiring, while Beresford gathered together
his almost shattered forces as best he could, Blake, who should have
helped, even refusing him bearers for his wounded. Thereafter the
siege of Badajoz was once more entered upon, while one must mention
a brilliant little land cutting-out expedition, where, at Arroyo de
Molinos, General Roland Hill broke up a force of the enemy under
Girard, capturing men, guns, and baggage.
"Barossa, too, is worthy of more than passing mention, for the battle
was hardly fought by our men. You must understand that troops had
been dispatched to Cadiz, where the Spaniards grudgingly gave them
entry, and these sailed later on for Algeciras, where they effected
a landing. Then, with some 12,000 Spaniards, under La Pena, 4000
of our men marched against Marshal Victor's forces. Here again we
have the same tale of Spanish treachery, jealousy, and cowardice.
That movement ended in the British troops being left almost entirely
alone to withstand the onslaught of the French legions. Yet, in
spite of that, Barossa, where our troops were, saw Victor's ranks
shattered, and added one more to the many victories gained by our
gallant fellows in the Peninsula.
"And now I come to the end of my tale. Owing to the junction of the
enemy under Soult, and those divisions in the north, Wellington
abandoned the siege of Badajoz, and advanced to the Tagus. Thence he
crossed in the direction of Ciudad Rodrigo, and once more took up a
position between the Coa and the Agueda, discovering the countryside
utterly swept by the French. The latest dispatches from the Peninsula
have told of burned villages, of ruined homesteads, of starving and
infuriated peasants. Detached parties of horse have ridden through
the country, sweeping it clean as the French retired, and no doubt
these fine fellows with whom we occupy this church have formed one
of those parties. Bear in mind that they have merely obeyed orders.
Because their countrymen have dealt severely with the Portuguese they
may not have done so; and, in any case, recollect that war is a cruel
game, and brings greater misery, perhaps, on non-combatants than upon
those whose profession it is to fight. There! Out with the torch.
Let's go to sleep. Who knows? to-morrow will make a second Wellington
of our friend Tom, or will see us--er----"
Jack put on a nervous grin. Tom's handsome face assumed a stern
expression. He felt that it was not the time for joking, and, what
was more, he felt that failure here would be a disgrace after the
many brilliant battles of which Mr. Riley had been telling.
"We'll pull out in the end, sir," he said with assurance. "What we've
done already shall be done again. To-morrow--or is it to-day, for it
is past midnight?--shall see these Portuguese fellows scuttling."
The day, when it came, might bring about such a happy result. But
then it might not. On the face of it, matters were desperate, for
here were a mere handful opposed to crowds--crowds, too, incensed and
filled with a dull and defiant hatred, which made success on their
part a certain death warrant for the defenders of the village church.