THE LINES OF CIUDAD RODRIGO.
The small, twinkling lights which shone from the ramparts of Ciudad Rodrigo
were our only guide, as we issued forth upon our perilous expedition. The
storm raged, if possible, even more violently than before, and gusts of
wind swept along the ground with the force of a hurricane; so that at
first, our horses could scarcely face the tempest. Our path lay along the
little stream for a considerable way; after which, fording the rivulet, we
entered upon the open plain, taking care to avoid the French outpost on the
extreme left, which was marked by a bivouac fire, burning under the heavy
downpour of rain, and looking larger through the dim atmosphere around it.
I rode foremost, followed closely by Hampden and Mike; not a word was
spoken after we crossed the stream. Our plan was, if challenged by a
patrol, to reply in French and press on; so small a party could never
suggest the idea of attack, and we hoped in this manner to escape.
The violence of the storm was such that many of our precautions as to
silence were quite unnecessary; and we had advanced to a considerable
extent into the plain before any appearance of the encampment struck us.
At length, on mounting a little rising ground, we perceived several fires
stretching far away to the northward; while still to our left, there blazed
one larger and brighter than the others. We now found that we had not
outflanked their position as we intended, and learning from the situation
of the fires, that we were still only at the outposts, we pressed sharply
forward, directing our course by the twin stars that shone from the
fortress.
“How heavy the ground is here!” whispered Hampden, as our horses sunk above
the fetlocks. “We had better stretch away to the right; the rise of the
hill will favor us.”
“Hark!” said I; “did you not hear something? Pull up,--silence now. Yes,
there they come. It’s a patrol; I hear their tramp.” As I spoke, the
measured tread of infantry was heard above the storm, and soon after a
lantern was seen coming along the causeway near us. The column passed
within a few yards of where we stood. I could even recognize the black
covering of the shakos as the light fell on them. “Let us follow them,”
whispered I; and the next moment we fell in upon their track, holding our
cattle well in hand, and ready to start at a moment.
“_Qui va là?_” a sentry demanded.
“_La deuxième division_,” cried a hoarse voice.
“_Halte là! la consigne?_”
“_Wagram!_” repeated the same voice as before, while his party resumed
their march; and the next moment the patrol was again upon his post, silent
and motionless as before.
“_En avant, Messieurs!_” said I, aloud, as soon as the infantry had
proceeded some distance,--“_en avant!_”
“_Qui va là?_” demanded the sentry, as we came along at a sharp trot.
“_L’état-major, Wagram!_” responded I, pressing on without drawing rein;
and in a moment we had regained our former position behind the infantry. We
had scarcely time to congratulate ourselves upon the success of our scheme,
when a tremendous clattering noise in front, mingled with the galloping of
horses and the cracking of whips, announced the approach of the artillery
as they came along by a narrow road which bisected our path; and as they
passed between us and the column, we could hear the muttered sentences of
the drivers, cursing the unseasonable time for an attack, and swearing at
their cattle in no measured tones.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Hampden; “the battery is about to be
directed against the San Benito, which must be far away to the left.
I heard one of the troop saying that they were to open their fire at
daybreak.”
“All right, now,” said I; “look there!”
From the hill we now stood upon a range of lanterns was distinctly visible,
stretching away for nearly half a mile.
“There are the trenches; they must be at work, too. See how the lights are
moving from place to place! Straight now. Forward!”
So saying, I pressed my horse boldly on.
We had not proceeded many minutes when the sounds of galloping were heard
coming along behind us.
“To the right, in the hollow,” cried I. “Be still.”
Scarcely had we moved off when several horsemen galloped up, and drawing
their reins to breathe their horses up the hill, we could hear their voices
as they conversed together.
In the few broken words we could catch, we guessed that the attack upon San
Benito was only a feint to induce Crawfurd to hold his position, while
the French, marching upon his flank and front, were to attack him with
overwhelming masses and crush him.
“You hear what’s in store for us, O’Malley?” whispered Hampden. “I think we
could not possibly do better than hasten back with the intelligence.”
“We must not forget what we came for, first,” said I; and the next moment
we were following the horsemen, who from their helmets seemed to be
horse-artillery officers.
The pace our guides rode at showed us that they knew their ground. We
passed several sentries, muttering something at each time, and seeming as
if only anxious to keep up with our party.
“They’ve halted,” said I. “Now to the left there; gently here, for we must
be in the midst of their lines. Ha! I knew we were right. See there!”
Before us, now, at a few hundred yards, we could perceive a number of men
engaged upon the field. Lights were moving from place to place rapidly,
while immediately in front a strong picket of cavalry were halted.
“By Jove! there’s sharp work of it to-night,” whispered Hampden. “They do
intend to surprise us to-morrow.”
“Gently now, to the left,” said I, as cautiously skirting the little hill,
I kept my eye firmly fixed upon the watch-fire.
The storm, which for some time had abated considerably, was now nearly
quelled, and the moon again peeped forth amidst masses of black and watery
clouds.
“What good fortune for us!” thought I, at this moment, as I surveyed the
plain before me.
“I say, O’Malley, what are those fellows at yonder, where the blue light is
burning?”
“Ah! the very people we want; these are the sappers. Now for it; that’s our
ground. We’ll soon come upon their track now.”
We pressed rapidly forward, passing an infantry party as we went. The blue
light was scarcely a hundred yards off; we could even hear the shouting of
the officers to their men in the trenches, when suddenly my horse came down
upon his head, and rolling over, crushed me to the earth.
“Not hurt, my boy,” cried I, in a subdued tone, as Hampden jumped down
beside me.
It was the angle of a trench I had fallen into; and though both my horse
and myself felt stunned for the moment, we rallied the next minute.
“Here is the very spot,” said I. “Now, Mike, catch the bridles and follow
us closely.”
Guiding ourselves along the edge of the trench, we crept stealthily
forward; the only watch-fire near was where the engineer party was halted,
and our object was to get outside of this.
“My turn this time,” said Hampden, as he tripped suddenly, and fell head
foremost upon the grass.
As I assisted him to rise, something caught my ankle, and on stooping I
found it was a cord pegged fast into the ground, and lying only a few
inches above it.
“Now, steady! See here; this is their working line. Pass your hand along it
there, and let us follow it out.”
While Hampden accordingly crept along on one side, I tracked the cord upon
the other. Here I found it terminating upon a small mound, where probably
some battery was to be erected. I accordingly gathered it carefully up, and
was returning towards my friend, when what was my horror to hear Mike’s
voice, conversing, as it seemed to me, with some one in French.
I stood fixed to the spot, my very heart beating almost in my mouth as I
listened.
“_Qui êtes-vous done, mon ami?_” inquired a hoarse, deep voice, a few yards
off.
“_Bon cheval, non_ beast, _sacré nom de Dieu!_” A hearty burst of laughter
prevented my hearing the conclusion of Mike’s French.
I now crept forward upon my hands and knees, till I could catch the dark
outline of the horses, one hand fixed upon my pistol trigger, and my sword
drawn in the other. Meanwhile the dialogue continued.
“_Vous êtes d’Alsace, n’est-ce-pas?_” asked the Frenchman, kindly supposing
that Mike’s French savored of Strasburg.
“Oh, blessed Virgin! av I might shoot him,” was the muttered reply.
Before I had time to see the effect of the last speech, I pressed forward
with a bold spring, and felled the Frenchman to the earth. My hand had
scarcely pressed upon his mouth, when Hampden was beside me. Snatching up
the pistol I let fall, he held it to the man’s chest and commanded him to
be silent. To unfasten his girdle and bind the Frenchman’s hands behind
him, was the work of a moment; and as the sharp click of the pistol-cock
seemed to calm his efforts to escape, we soon succeeded in fastening a
handkerchief tight across his mouth, and the next minute he was placed
behind Mike’s saddle, firmly attached to this worthy individual by his
sword-belt.
“Now, a clear run home for it, and a fair start,” said Hampden, as he
sprang into the saddle.
“Now, then, for it,” I replied, as turning my horse’s head towards our
lines, I dashed madly forward.
The moon was again obscured, but still the dark outline of the hill which
formed our encampment was discernible on the horizon. Riding side by side,
on we hurried,--now splashing through the deep wet marshes, now plunging
through small streams. Our horses were high in mettle, and we spared them
not. By taking a wide _détour_ we had outflanked the French pickets, and
were almost out of all risk, when suddenly on coming to the verge of rather
a steep hill, we perceived beneath us a strong cavalry picket standing
around a watch-fire; their horses were ready saddled, the men accoutred,
and quite prepared for the field. While we conversed together in whispers
as to the course to follow, our deliberations were very rapidly cut short.
The French prisoner, who hitherto had given neither trouble nor resistance,
had managed to free his mouth from the encumbrance of the handkerchief; and
as we stood quietly discussing our plans, with one tremendous effort he
endeavored to hurl himself and Mike from the saddle, shouting out as he did
so,--
“_A moi camarades! à moi!_”
Hampden’s pistol leaped from the holster as he spoke, and levelling it with
a deadly aim, he pulled the trigger; but I threw up his arm, and the ball
passed high above his head. To have killed the Frenchman would have been to
lose my faithful follower, who struggled manfully with his adversary, and
at length by throwing himself flatly forward upon the mane of his horse,
completely disabled him. Meanwhile the picket had sprung to their saddles,
and looked wildly about on every side.
Not a moment was to be lost; so turning our horses’ heads towards the
plain, away we went. One loud cheer announced to us that we had been seen,
and the next instant the clash of the pursuing cavalry was heard behind us.
It was now entirely a question of speed, and little need we have feared
had Mike’s horse not been doubly weighted. However, as we still had
considerably the start, and the gray dawn of day enabled us to see the
ground, the odds were in our favor. “Never let your horse’s head go,” was
my often repeated direction to Mike, as he spurred with all the desperation
of madness. Already the low meadow-land was in sight which flanked the
stream we had crossed in the morning, but unfortunately the heavy rains had
swollen it now to a considerable depth, and the muddy current, choked with
branches of trees and great stones, was hurrying down like a torrent. “Take
the river! never flinch it!” was my cry to my companions, as I turned my
head and saw a French dragoon, followed by two others, gaining rapidly upon
us. As I spoke, Mike dashed in, followed by Hampden, and the same moment
the sharp ring of a carbine whizzed past me. To take off the pursuit from
the others, I now wheeled my horse suddenly round, as if I feared to take
the stream, and dashed along by the river’s bank.
[Illustration: A FLYING SHOT.]
Beneath me in the foaming current the two horsemen labored,--now stemming
the rush of water, now reeling almost beneath. A sharp cry burst from Mike
as I looked, and I saw the poor fellow bend nearly to his saddle. I could
see no more, for the chase was now hot upon myself. Behind me rode a French
dragoon, his carbine pressed tightly to his side, ready to fire as he
pressed on in pursuit. I had but one chance; so drawing my pistol I wheeled
suddenly in my saddle, and fired straight at him. The Frenchman fell, while
a regular volley from his party rung around me, one ball striking my horse,
and another lodging in the pommel of my saddle. The noble animal reeled
nearly to the earth, but as if rallying for a last effort, sprang forward
with renewed energy, and plunged boldly into the river. For a moment,
so sudden was my leap, my pursuers lost sight of me; but the bank being
somewhat steep, the efforts of my horse to climb again discovered me, and
before I reached the field two pistol-balls took effect upon me,--one
slightly grazed my side, but my bridle-arm was broken by the other, and
my hand fell motionless to my side. A cheer of defiance was, however, my
reply, as I turned round in my saddle, and the next moment I was far beyond
the range of their fire.
Not a man durst follow, and the last sight I had of them was the dismounted
group who stood around their dead comrade. Before me rode Hampden and Mike,
still at top speed, and never turning their heads backwards. I hastened
after them; but my poor, wounded horse, nearly hamstrung by the shot,
became dead lame, and it was past daybreak ere I reached the first outposts
of our lines.