THE COA.
Within a week from the occurrence of the events just mentioned, Ciudad
Rodrigo surrendered, and Crawfurd assumed another position beneath the
walls of Almeida. The Spanish contingent having left us, we were reinforced
by the arrival of two battalions, renewed orders being sent not to risk a
battle, but if the French should advance, to retire beyond the Coa.
On the evening of the 21st of July a strong body of French cavalry advanced
into the plain, supported by some heavy guns; upon which Crawfurd retired
upon the Coa, intending, as we supposed, to place that river between
himself and the enemy. Three days, however, passed over without any
movement upon either side, and we still continued, with a force of scarcely
four thousand infantry and a thousand dragoons, to stand opposite to an
army of nearly fifty thousand men. Such was our position as the night of
the 24th set in. I was sitting alone in my quarters. Mike, whose wound had
been severer than at first was supposed, had been sent to Almeida, and I
was musing in solitude upon the events of the campaign, when the noise and
bustle without excited my attention,--the roll of artillery wagons, the
clash of musketry, and the distant sounds of marching, all proved that the
troops were effecting some new movement, and I burned with anxiety to
learn what it was. My brother officers, however, came not as usual to my
quarters; and although I waited with impatience while the hours rolled by,
no one appeared.
Long, low moaning gusts of wind swept along the earth, carrying the leaves
as they tore them from the trees, and mingling their sad sounds with the
noises of the retiring troops; for I could perceive that gradually the
sounds grew more and more remote, and only now and then could I trace their
position as the roll of a distant drum swelled upon the breeze, or the
more shrill cry of a pibroch broke upon my ear. A heavy downpour of rain
followed soon after, and in its unceasing plash drowned all other sounds.
As the little building shook beneath the peals of loud thunder, the
lightning flashed in broad sheets upon the rapid river, which, swollen and
foaming, dashed impetuously beside my window. By the uncertain but vivid
glare of the flashes, I endeavored to ascertain where our force was posted,
but in vain. Never did I witness such a night of storm,--the deep booming
of the thunder seeming never for a moment to cease, while the rush of the
torrent grew gradually louder, till at length it swelled into one deep and
sullen roar like that of distant artillery.
Weak and nervous as I felt from the effects of my wound, feverish and
exhausted by days of suffering and sleepless nights, I paced my little room
with tottering but impatient steps. The sense of my sad and imprisoned
state impressed me deeply; and while from time to time I replenished my
fire, and hoped to hear some friendly step upon the stair, my heart grew
gradually heavier, and every gloomy and depressing thought suggested itself
to my imagination. My most constant impression was that the troops were
retiring beyond the Coa, and that, forgotten in the haste and confusion of
a night march, I had been left behind to fall a prisoner to the enemy.
The sounds of the troops retiring gradually farther and farther favored the
idea, in which I was still more strengthened on finding that the peasants
who inhabited the little hut had departed, leaving me utterly alone. From
the moment I ascertained this fact, my impatience knew no bounds; and in
proportion as I began to feel some exertion necessary on my part, so much
more did my nervousness increase my debility, and at last I sank exhausted
upon my bed, while a cold perspiration broke out upon my temples.
I have mentioned that the Coa was immediately beneath the house; I must
also add that the little building occupied the angle of a steep but narrow
gorge which descended from the plain to the bridge across the stream. This,
as far as I knew, was the only means we possessed of passing the river; so
that, when the last retiring sounds of the troops were heard by me, I began
to suspect that Crawfurd, in compliance with his orders, was making a
backward movement, leaving the bridge open to the French, to draw them
on to his line of march, while he should cross over at some more distant
point.
As the night grew later, the storm seemed to increase; the waves of the
foaming river dashed against the frail walls of the hut, while its roof,
rent by the blast, fell in fragments upon the stream, and all threatened a
speedy and perfect ruin.
How I longed for morning! The doubt and uncertainty I suffered nearly drove
me distracted. Of all the casualties my career as a soldier opened, none
had such terrors for me as imprisonment; the very thought of the long years
of inaction and inglorious idleness was worse than any death. My wounds,
and the state of fever I was in, increased the morbid dread upon me, and
had the French captured me at the time, I know not that madness of which
I was not capable. Day broke at last, but slowly and sullenly; the gray
clouds hurried past upon the storm, pouring down the rain in torrents as
they went, and the desolation and dreariness on all sides was scarcely
preferable to the darkness and gloom of night. My eyes were turned ever
towards the plain, across which the winter wind bore the plashing rain in
vast sheets of water; the thunder crashed louder and louder; but except the
sounds of the storm none others met my ear. Not a man, not a human figure
could I see, as I strained my sight towards the distant horizon.
The morning crept over, but the storm abated not, and the same unchanged
aspect of dreary desolation prevailed without. At times I thought I could
hear, amidst the noises of the tempest, something like the roll of distant
artillery; but the thunder swelled in sullen roar above all, and left me
uncertain as before.
At last, in a momentary pause of the storm, a tremendous peal of heavy
guns caught my ear, followed by the long rattling of small-arms. My heart
bounded with ecstasy. The thoughts of the battle-field, with all its
changing fortunes, was better, a thousand times better, than the despairing
sense of desertion I labored under. I listened now with eagerness, but
the rain bore down again in torrents, and the crumbling walls and falling
timbers left no other sounds to be heard. Far as my eye could reach,
nothing could still be seen save the dreary monotony of the vast plain,
undulating slightly here and there, but unmarked by a sign of man.
Far away towards the horizon I had remarked for some time past that the
clouds resting upon the earth grew blacker and blacker, spreading out to
either side in vast masses, and not broken or wafted along like the rest.
As I watched the phenomenon with an anxious eye, I perceived the dense mass
suddenly appear, as it were, rent asunder, while a volume of liquid flame
rushed wildly out, throwing a lurid glare on every side. One terrific clap,
louder than any thunder, shook the air at this moment, while the very earth
trembled beneath the shock.
As I hesitated what it might be, the heavy din of great guns again was
heard, and from the midst of the black smoke rode forth a dark mass,
which I soon recognized as the horse-artillery at full gallop. They were
directing their course towards the bridge.
As they mounted the little rising ground, they wheeled and unlimbered with
the speed of lightning, just as a strong column of cavalry showed above the
ridge. One tremendous discharge again shook the field, and ere the smoke
cleared away they were again far in retreat.
So much was my attention occupied with this movement that I had not
perceived the long line of infantry that came from the extreme left, and
were now advancing also towards the bridge at a brisk quick-step; scattered
bodies of cavalry came up from different parts, while from the little
valley, every now and then, a rifleman would mount the rising ground,
turning to fire as he retreated. All this boded a rapid and disorderly
retreat; and although as yet I could see nothing of the pursuing enemy, I
knew too well the relative forces of each to have a doubt for the result.
At last the head of a French column appeared above the mist, and I could
plainly distinguish the gestures of the officers as they hurried their men
onwards. Meanwhile a loud hurra attracted my attention, and I turned my eye
towards the road which led to the river. Here a small body of the 95th had
hurriedly assembled, and formed again, were standing to cover the retreat
of the broken infantry as they passed on eagerly to the bridge; in a second
after the French cuirassiers appeared. Little anticipating resistance from
a flying and disordered mass, they rode headlong forward, and although the
firm attitude and steady bearing of the Highlanders might have appalled
them, they rode heedlessly down upon the square, sabring the very men in
the front rank. Till now not a trigger had been pulled, when suddenly the
word “Fire!” was given, and a withering volley of balls sent the cavalry
column in shivers. One hearty cheer broke from the infantry in the rear,
and I could hear “Gallant Ninety-fifth!” shouted on every side along the
plain.
The whole vast space before me was now one animated battle-ground. Our own
troops, retiring in haste before the overwhelming forces of the French,
occupied every little vantage ground with their guns and light infantry,
charges of cavalry coursing hither and thither; while, as the French
pressed forward, the retreating columns again formed into squares to
permit stragglers to come up. The rattle of small-arms, the heavy peal of
artillery, the earth-quake crash of cavalry, rose on every side, while the
cheers which alternately told of the vacillating fortune of the fight rose
amidst the wild pibroch of the Highlanders.
A tremendous noise now took place on the floor beneath me; and looking
down, I perceived that a sergeant and party of sappers had taken possession
of the little hut, and were busily engaged in piercing the walls for
musketry; and before many minutes had elapsed, a company of the Rifles were
thrown into the building, which, from its commanding position above the
road, enfiladed the whole line of march. The officer in command briefly
informed me that we had been attacked that morning by the French in force,
and “devilishly well thrashed;” that we were now in retreat beyond the Coa,
where we ought to have been three days previously, and desired me to cross
the bridge and get myself out of the way as soon as I possibly could.
A twenty-four pounder from the French lines struck the angle of the house
as he spoke, scattering the mortar and broken bricks about us on all sides.
This was warning sufficient for me, wounded and disabled as I was; so
taking the few things I could save in my haste, I hurried from the hut, and
descending the path, now slippery by the heavy rain, I took my way across
the bridge, and established myself on a little rising knoll of ground
beyond, from which a clear view could be obtained of the whole field.
I had not been many minutes in my present position ere the pass which led
down to the bridge became thronged with troops, wagons, ammunition carts,
and hospital stores, pressing thickly forward amidst shouting and uproar;
the hills on either side of the way were crowded with troops, who formed
as they came up, the artillery taking up their position on every rising
ground. The firing had already begun, and the heavy booming of the large
guns was heard at intervals amidst the rattling crash of musketry. Except
the narrow road before me, and the high bank of the stream, I could see
nothing; but the tumult and din, which grew momentarily louder, told that
the tide of battle raged nearer and nearer. Still the retreat continued;
and at length the heavy artillery came thundering across the narrow bridge
followed by stragglers of all arms, and wounded, hurrying to the rear. The
sharpshooters and the Highlanders held the heights above the stream, thus
covering the retiring columns; but I could plainly perceive that their fire
was gradually slackening, and that the guns which flanked their position
were withdrawn, and everything bespoke a speedy retreat. A tremendous
discharge of musketry at this moment, accompanied by a deafening cheer,
announced the advance of the French, and soon the head of the Highland
brigade was seen descending towards the bridge, followed by the Rifles and
the 95th; the cavalry, consisting of the 11th and 14th Light Dragoons, were
now formed in column of attack, and the infantry deployed into line; and in
an instant after, high above the din and crash of battle, I heard the word
“Charge!” The rising crest of the hill hid them from my sight, but my heart
bounded with ecstasy as I listened to the clanging sound of the cavalry
advance. Meanwhile the infantry pressed on, and forming upon the bank,
took up a strong position in front of the bridge; the heavy guns were
also unlimbered, riflemen scattered through the low copse-wood, and every
precaution taken to defend the pass to the last. For a moment all my
attention was riveted to the movements upon our own side of the stream,
when suddenly the cavalry bugle sounded the recall, and the same moment
the staff came galloping across the bridge. One officer I could perceive,
covered with orders and trappings, his head was bare, and his horse,
splashed with blood and foam, moved lamely and with difficulty; he turned
in the middle of the bridge, as if irresolute whether to retreat farther.
One glance at him showed me the bronzed, manly features of our leader.
Whatever his resolve, the matter was soon decided for him, for the cavalry
came galloping swiftly down the slope, and in an instant the bridge was
blocked up by the retreating forces, while the French as suddenly appearing
above the height, opened a plunging fire upon their defenceless enemies;
their cheer of triumph was answered by our fellows from the opposite bank,
and a heavy cannonade thundered along the rocky valley, sending up a
hundred echoes as it went.
The scene now became one of overwhelming interest; the French, posting
their guns upon the height, replied to our fire, while their line, breaking
into skirmishers, descended the banks to the river’s edge, and poured
in one sheet of galling musketry. The road to the bridge, swept by our
artillery, presented not a single file; and although a movement among
the French announced the threat of an attack, the deadly service of the
artillery seemed to pronounce it hopeless.
A strong cavalry force stood inactively spectators of the combat, on the
French side, among whom I now remarked some bustle and preparation, and as
I looked an officer rode boldly to the river’s edge, and spurring his horse
forward, plunged into the stream. The swollen and angry torrent, increased
by the late rains, boiled like barm, and foamed around him as he advanced;
when suddenly his horse appeared to have lost its footing, and the rapid
current, circling around him, bore him along with it. He labored madly, but
in vain, to retrace his steps; the rolling torrent rose above his saddle,
and all that his gallant steed could do was barely sufficient to keep
afloat; both man and horse were carried down between the contending
armies. I could see him wave his hand to his comrades, as if in adieu. One
deafening cheer of admiration rose from the French lines, and the next
moment he was seen to fall from his seat, and his body, shattered with
balls, floated mournfully upon the stream.
This little incident, to which both armies were witnesses, seemed to have
called forth all the fiercer passions of the contending forces; a loud yell
of taunting triumph rose from the Highlanders, responded to by a cry of
vengeance from the French, and the same moment the head of a column was
seen descending the narrow causeway to the bridge, while an officer with a
whole blaze of decorations and crosses sprang from his horse and took the
lead. The little drummer, a child of scarcely ten years old, tripped gayly
on, beating his little _pas des charge_, seeming rather like the play of
infancy than the summons to death and carnage, as the heavy guns of the
French opened a volume of fire and flame to cover the attacking column. For
a moment all was hid from our eyes; the moment after the grape-shot swept
along the narrow causeway; and the bridge, which but a second before was
crowded with the life and courage of a noble column, was now one heap of
dead and dying. The gallant fellow who led them on fell among the first
rank, and the little child, as if kneeling, was struck dead beside the
parapet; his fair hair floated across his cold features, and seemed in its
motion to lend a look of life where the heart’s throb had ceased forever.
The artillery again re-opened upon us; and when the smoke had cleared away,
we discovered that the French had advanced to the middle of the bridge and
carried off the body of their general. Twice they essayed to cross, and
twice the death-dealing fire of our guns covered the narrow bridge with
slain, while by the wild pibroch of the 42d, swelling madly into notes of
exultation and triumph, the Highlanders could scarcely be prevented from
advancing hand to hand with the foe. Gradually the French slackened their
fire, their great guns were one by one withdrawn from the heights, and a
dropping, irregular musketry at intervals sustained the fight, which, ere
sunset, ceased altogether; and thus ended “The Battle of the Coa!”