THE FIGHT ON THE COA.
All through the winter of 1809-1810, Wellington had remained quietly
on the frontier of Portugal, engaged in disciplining his troops, many
of whom were raw drafts from the militia, in urging upon the home
Government the necessity of fresh reinforcements, if the war was to be
carried on with the smallest hopes of success, and in controversies
and disputes with the Portuguese regency. This body of incapables
starved their own army, refused supplies and transport to the British,
and behaved with such arrogance and insolence that Wellington was
several times driven to use the threat that, unless measures were
taken to keep the Portuguese troops from starving, and to supply food
to the British, he would put his army on board the transports at
Lisbon, and give up the struggle altogether.
Spring found the army still on the frontier, and when the French
advanced in force in May to lay siege to the Spanish frontier fortress
of Ciudad Rodrigo, Wellington to the intense disappointment of his own
troops, and the bitter anger of the Portuguese and Spaniards, refused
to fight a battle to save the fortress, which, under its gallant old
governor, Andrea Hernati, was defending itself nobly.
Wellington's position was, however, a very difficult one, and his
responsibilities were immense. Allowing for the detachments which were
massing to check three other French columns advancing in different
directions, he had but 25,000 men with which to attempt to raise the
siege of Ciudad Rodrigo, or to draw off the besieged garrison. Massena
had under him 60,000 French veterans, and was desiring nothing more
than that Wellington should attack him. The chances of victory then
were by no means strong, and in any case victory could only have been
purchased by a loss of men which would have completely crippled the
British general, and would have rendered it absolutely necessary for
him to fall back again at once. A defeat or even a heavy loss of
men, would have so dispirited the faint-hearted Government at home
that they would undoubtedly have recalled the whole expedition, and
resigned Portugal to its fate. Thus Wellington decided not to risk the
whole fate of the British army and of Portugal for merely a temporary
advantage, and so stood firm against the murmurs of his own troops,
the furious reproaches of the Portuguese and Spaniards, and the moving
entreaties for aid of the gallant governor of the besieged town.
At the same time that he refused to risk a general battle, he kept
Craufurd's division in advance of the Coa, and within two hours' march
of the enemy, thereby encouraging the garrison of Ciudad Rodrigo, and
preventing Massena from pushing forward a portion of his army while
the rest pursued the siege.
Craufurd's front was guarded by the Agueda, a river only passable by
two or three bridges and fords in wet weather, but fordable in many
places in the dry season. At the commencement of June the Agueda
fell, and the French crossed in strength at various places. Craufurd,
however, still maintained his position in front of the Coa with great
skill and boldness. He had under his command only 4000 infantry, 1100
cavalry, and six guns, and his maintenance of his position, almost
within gun-shot of an enemy's army, 60,000 strong, for three months,
is one of the finest feats of military audacity and ability ever
performed.
Until the 11th of July the boys remained quietly at a cottage occupied
by peasants, who believed their story that they were only waiting
to proceed when the French army advanced. They were freed from
molestation or inquiry upon the part of the French by the pass with
which Madame Reynier had supplied them.
Upon that day Ciudad Rodrigo surrendered, and Massena prepared at once
to enter Portugal. Upon the 21st the cavalry advanced in great force,
and upon the following day the boys resolved upon endeavoring to
rejoin the British army. The Agueda was now easily fordable in many
places, but the boys determined to swim across, at a distance from the
point at which the French army was now pouring forward.
As evening came on they left the cottage, and walked two miles up
the stream, and, as soon as night fell, took off the costumes which
had proved of such service to them and left them on the bank; then
fastening their peasants' suits upon two bundles of rushes to keep
them dry, entered the little river, and were soon upon the opposite
shore. They knew, from what they had heard in the afternoon, that
Craufurd had fallen back upon Almeida, a fortified town, and that it
was probable he would at once cross the Coa, as resistance to the
force now approaching him seemed nothing short of madness.
No good, indeed, could be gained by a fight in such a position, with a
deep river in the rear, crossed by only a narrow bridge, and commanded
by both banks, and Wellington's orders had been imperative "that, upon
no account whatever was Craufurd to fight beyond the Coa."
Craufurd, however, a rash and obstinate, although a skilful general,
was determined upon having a brush with the enemy before he fell back.
He anticipated, no doubt, that only an advanced guard of the enemy
would come up at first, and his intention was to inflict a severe
check upon them with the magnificent little division under his
command, and then fall back triumphantly across the Coa. Massena,
however, was well aware of the fighting powers of the light division,
and was preparing to hurl suddenly upon him a force more than
sufficient to crush it.
The Scudamores had but little fear of meeting with any large body of
the enemy, as the main French advance was direct from Ciudad Rodrigo;
their cavalry would, however, be scattered all over the country, and
were they to fall into the hands of any of these parties they would
have been shot instantly, upon suspicion of endeavoring to convey news
of the French movements to Craufurd.
The point where they crossed the river was between Villar and Naves
Frias, and, after an hour's walking, they struck the little rivulet
called Duas Casas. This they crossed at once, as they knew that by
following its southern bank until they saw some high ground to their
left they would find themselves near Almeida, which they hoped to
reach before the English retreated.
All night they tramped through the fields of stubble, where the corn
had been long since cut for the use of Craufurd's cavalry, but walking
at night through an unknown country is slow work, and when day began
to break they entered a small wood just beyond the point where the
Turones, as the southern arm of the Duas Casas is called, branches off
from the main stream. Several times in the course of the day bodies
of the enemy's cavalry came near their place of concealment, and the
Scudamores congratulated themselves that they had not given way to
their impatience, and tried to push on across the twenty miles that
alone separated them from their friends.
At nightfall the wind rose, and a heavy rain began to fall. They had
no stars by which to steer their course, and were, therefore, forced
to follow the bank of the Turones, although they knew that it would
lead them some distance to the north of Almeida. It was slow work,
indeed, for they had to grope their way along in the storm, following
every turn and bend of the river, which formed their only guide. After
several hours' toil they came into a road running north and south.
This they knew was the road leading from Guarda to Almeida, and it
gave them a clue as to the distance they had come. Still following the
river, they continued their course until they approached San Pedro,
whence they knew that a road ran directly to the British position
in front of Almeida, that is if the British still maintained their
position there.
As they approached the village, they heard a deep, hollow sound,
and stopping to listen, and laying their ears to the ground, could
distinguish the rumble of heavy carriages.
"The French are advancing in force, Peter; we are just in time;
they are going to attack us in the morning at daybreak. We know the
direction now; let us turn to the left, and try to get on in advance
of them. They probably will not push on much farther until there
is light enough to permit them to form order of battle; they are
evidently, by the sound, going to the left, rather than straight on."
The Scudamores now hurried on, and presently the rumbling of the
artillery died away, and they ventured to push to their left, and to
get on the road, which they found deserted. Half an hour's run, for
they knew that every minute was of importance, and they heard the
welcome challenge, "Who comes there?" "Two British officers," they
answered, and in a few minutes they were taken to the officer in
charge of the picket, and having once convinced him of their identity,
were heartily greeted and welcomed.
"The French are advancing in great force to attack," Tom said; "please
forward us instantly to the general."
The matter was too important for an instant's delay, and a sergeant
was at once told off to accompany them.
The first faint blush of daylight was in the east when they arrived
at the cottage which served as General Craufurd's quarters, and, upon
their speaking to the sentinel at the door, a window was thrown open,
and a deep voice demanded "What is it?"
"We have just arrived through the French lines," Tom said, "the enemy
are at hand in force."
The casement closed, and an instant afterwards the general came out.
"Who are you?"
"We belong to the Norfolk Rangers, general, and have been detached on
service in the interior; we have only just made our way back."
"How am I to know your story is true?" the general asked sharply.
"You may, perhaps, remember, sir, we landed from the 'Latona,' and you
kindly lent us horses to accompany you."
"Aha! I remember," the general said. "Well, your news?"
"The French have crossed the Turones in force, sir; at least they have
a good many guns with them."
"Which way were they going?"
"As far as we could judge by the sound, sir, they were taking up a
position between Villa Formosa and Fort Conception."
"Good," the general said shortly; then turning to three or four of his
staff who had followed him from the cottage, "Get the troops under
arms at once. Come in here, gentlemen."
The Scudamores entered, and as they came into the light of a candle
which stood on the table the general smiled grimly.
"It is lucky you were able to recall yourselves to my memory, for
I should have needed some strong evidence to persuade me you were
British officers had I seen you before you spoke. You are wet to the
skin; there is a brandy bottle, and you will find some bread and cold
fowl in that cupboard."
Five minutes later the boys followed General Craufurd from his hut.
Short as was the time which had elapsed since their arrival, the
troops were already under arms, for three months of incessant alarm
and watchfulness had enabled this splendid division to act as one man,
and to fall in at any hour of the day or night in an incredibly short
time. Ten minutes later and the ramble of the baggage wagons was
heard along the road towards the bridge. The morning was clearing
fast, the clouds lifted, and the daylight seemed to break with unusual
suddenness.
The dark masses of the French became visible forming up before the
Turones, and Craufurd hurried forward his cavalry and guns to check
their advance.
"Hurry the infantry up, hurry them up," the general said urgently to
the officers by him. "Let them take post along the ridge, and then
fall back fighting towards the bridge. Major MacLeod," he said to an
officer of the 43d, "take these gentlemen with you; they are officers
of the Norfolk Rangers. They will join your regiment for the present.
When your regiment falls back, occupy that stone inclosure a little
way down the slope at the left of the road, and hold the enemy in
check while the troops file over the bridge."
The officer addressed looked with surprise at the boys, and signing to
them to follow, hurried off to his regiment, which was on the left of
the British line.
Next to them came a regiment of Portuguese riflemen, with a wing of
the 95th upon either flank, while the 52d formed the right of the
line.
Upon reaching the regiment, Major MacLeod briefly introduced the boys
to the colonel, who said, "As you have no arms, gentlemen, I think you
had better make for the bridge at once."
"Thank you, sir," Tom replied, "there will be some muskets disposable
before long, and directly they are so we will take our place in the
ranks."
They had now leisure to look round and examine their position, and a
glance was sufficient to show how great was the peril in which General
Craufurd's obstinacy had placed his little force. In front of them
were 24,000 French infantry, 5000 cavalry, and 30 pieces of artillery.
An overwhelming force indeed, and one which could scarcely have been
withstood by the 4000 British infantry, even under the most favorable
conditions of position. The position, however, was here wholly against
the British. They stood at the edge of a plateau, and behind them the
ground fell away in a steep hillside to the Coa, a mile distant, and
across the Coa there was but a single bridge.
The enemy was approaching fast. Ney's great brigade of cavalry swept
the British horse before them, and the infantry were following at a
run.
Resistance on the edge of the plateau was hopeless, and Craufurd
ordered the infantry to fall back at once. The 43d filed into the
inclosure, rapidly cut loopholes in the wall, and as the enemy
appeared on the crest above opened a tremendous fire, under cover of
which the cavalry and artillery trotted briskly and in good order down
the road to the bridge.
The Scudamores, having no duty, stood at the entrance to the inclosure
and watched the fight on their right. As the masses of French infantry
appeared on the edge of the plateau they made no pause, but opening
a heavy fire pressed forward on the retiring British troops, who
were falling back in open order, contesting every inch of ground. So
rapidly and hotly, however, did the French press after them that the
British were soon pushed back beyond the line of the inclosure, and as
the French followed closely, it was evident that the 43d would be cut
oft and surrounded.
Their colonel saw their danger, and called upon them to fall in and
retreat, but the entrance was so narrow that it was clear at a glance
that ere one company could pass through it the French would be upon
them, and the regiment caught like rats in a trap.
Officers and men alike saw the danger, and there was a pause of
consternation.
Peter was standing next to the colonel, and said suddenly as the idea
flashed across him, "The wall is not very strong, sir, if the men mass
against it and push together I think it will go."
The colonel caught at the idea. "Now, lads, steady, form against the
rear wall four deep, close together, shoulder to shoulder, as close
as you can pack; now get ready, one, two, three!" and at the word the
heavy mass of men swung themselves against the wall; it swayed with
the shock, and many stones were displaced; another effort and the
wall tottered and fell, and with a glad shout the 43d burst out, and
trotting on at the double soon joined the rifles and 95th.
The ground was rough and broken with rocks, vineyards and inclosures,
and the troops, fighting with admirable coolness and judgment, took
advantage of every obstacle and fell back calmly and in good order
before the overwhelming force opposed to them.
Fortunately the jealousies of the French generals, which throughout
the campaign contributed in no slight degree to the success of
the British, was now the cause of their safety, for Montbrun, who
commanded the French heavy cavalry, refused to obey Ney's order to
charge straight down to the bridge, in which case the whole English
infantry would have been cut off; the French hussars, however, being
on the British rear, charged among them whenever the ground permitted
them to do so.
Upon the British right the ground was more open than upon the left,
and the 52d was therefore obliged to fall back more quickly than the
rest of the line, and were the first to arrive at the bridge head,
which was still choked with artillery and cavalry. This was the most
dangerous moment, the rest of the infantry could not retreat until the
bridge was clear, and the French with exulting shouts pressed hard
upon them to drive them back upon the river.
Major MacLeod, seeing the urgent danger, rallied four companies of his
regiment upon the little hill on the right of the road, while Major
Rowan collected two companies on another to the left. Here they were
joined by many of the riflemen, and for a while the French advance was
checked.
The Scudamores had remained throughout close to Major MacLeod, and had
long since armed themselves with the muskets and pouches of fallen
men, and with 43d shakoes on their heads, were fighting among the
ranks.
The cloud of French skirmishers pressed hotly forward, and MacLeod,
seeing that the bridge was still blocked, resolved suddenly upon
a desperate measure. Taking off his cap, he pointed to the enemy,
and calling upon his men to follow him, rode boldly at them. Peter
Scudamore caught up a bugle which had fallen from a dead bugler by his
side, blew the charge, and the soldiers, cheering loudly, followed
MacLeod against the enemy.
Astounded at this sudden and unexpected attack, the French skirmishers
paused, and then fell back before the furious charge of the 43d, who
pressed after them with loud and continuous cheering. Looking back,
MacLeod saw that the bridge was now clear, and recalled the troops,
who fell back rapidly again before the French infantry had recovered
sufficiently from their surprise to press them.
The hussars were, however, again forward, and were galloping down the
road, which was here sunken between somewhat high banks. Tom and Peter
were with the last company, which turned and prepared to receive them,
when Tom, pointing to a coil of rope upon a cart which had broken
down, shouted, "Quick, tie it to these posts across the road." Two or
three men sprang to assist him, and in a minute the rope was stretched
across the road at a foot from the ground, and fastened round a stone
post on either side. They had scarcely seized their muskets and leapt
on the bank again, when the French cavalry came thundering down the
road. "Fire, a few of you," Tom said, "so as to call their attention
up here," and in accordance with his order a dropping fire was opened.
The French came along at a gallop; a few of the leading horses saw
the rope and leapt it, but those behind caught it and fell, the mass
behind pressed on, and in an instant the lane was choked with a
confused mass of men and horses. "Now a volley," Tom cried, "and then
to the bridge."
Every musket was emptied in to the struggling mass, and then with a
cheer, the men ran briskly down to the bridge, and crossed--the last
of the British troops over the Coa.
The rest of the infantry and artillery had already taken ground on the
heights behind the river, and these opened fire upon the French as
they approached the head of the bridge in pursuit. The British were
now, however, safe in the position which they ought to have taken up
before the advance of the French, and had General Craufurd obeyed his
orders not to fight beyond the Coa, the lives of 306 of his gallant
troops, including the officers, would have been saved.
The battle, however, was not yet over. The artillery on both sides
played across the ravine, the French skirmishers swarmed down to the
river bank, and between them and the British infantry a rapid fire was
exchanged, while a heavy column marched down to the bridge. With a
deep-sounding cheer they advanced upon it, while with answering cheers
the British opened fire upon them. The depth of the ravine at first
deceived the British marksmen, and the column pressed on until its
head was three-quarters across the bridge. Then the shower smote it,
and beneath that terrible fire the head of the column melted away.
Still it pressed on until across the bridge the corpses lay piled in a
mass as high as the parapet, and beyond this heap, this terrible line,
there was no living. Then sullenly and slowly the French fell back,
while the British cheers rose exultingly along the hillside.
Twice again did fresh columns pour on to the bridge, but only to melt
away under the British fire, neither of them reaching the dreadful
line which marked the point reached by the head of the first. The
artillery and musketry fire on both sides continued until four in the
afternoon, when a heavy rain set in, and the fire ceased altogether.
As the Coa was fordable at several points lower down, and the French
could therefore have turned the position next day, the British troops
fell back during the night behind the Pinhel river, where Picton's
division was also encamped.
Next morning the boys exchanged their Spanish suits for the uniform
of British officers, which they obtained from the effects of some of
those who had fallen upon the previous day, these being, as is usual
in a campaign, at once sold by auction, the amount realized being
received by the paymaster for the benefit of the dead men's relatives.
Major MacLeod had witnessed their ready presence of mind in throwing
the rope across the road, and so checking the French charge, and
giving time to the rear-guard to cross the bridge, and had made a very
favorable report upon the subject.
Two days later and they joined the Rangers, who were stationed at
Guarda, and were received with the greatest heartiness by their
brother officers, with warm but respectful greetings by the men, and
with uproarious demonstrations of gladness on the part of Sambo.
"The betting was two to one that you had gone down, boys," Captain
Manley said, after the first greetings; "but Carruthers and myself
have taken up all offers, and win I don't know how many dinners and
bottles of wine. I had the strongest faith you would get through
somehow. You will take up your quarters with me. I have two bedrooms
upstairs there, which Sam has taken possession of in your name. He
would have it that you were sure to be back in time for the first
fight. Dinner will be ready at six, and after that there will be a
general gathering round the fire in the open to hear your adventures.
No doubt you would be dining with the colonel, but I know he is
engaged to the general."
"Yes, he told us so," Tom said, "and we are to dine with him
to-morrow."
"All right, then; we'll make a night of it. Carruthers is coming to
dine, and Burke and Lethbridge; but the room won't hold more than six.
We are going to have a feast, for Sam has got hold of a sucking-pig;
where he got it from I dare not inquire, and Lethbridge said his
fellow had, somehow or other, found a turkey; as to wine, we shall
have it of the best, for Burke is quartered at the monastery, and the
monks are so delighted at finding him a good Catholic that they have
given him the run of their cellar."
It was a jovial dinner, and no words can express the satisfaction and
delight which beamed on Sam's face as he stood behind his master, or
the grin of pride with which he placed the sucking-pig on the table.
"Sam, Sam!" Captain Manley said reprovingly, "I fear that pig is not
honestly come by, and that one of these days we shall hear that you
have come to a bad end."
"No, no, Massa Captain Manley, sar," Sam said, "dat pig come quite
honest, dat pig made present to Sam."
"A likely story that, Sam. Come, out with it. I have no doubt it was
quite as honest as Lethbridge's turkey anyhow. Come, tell us how it
was."
Thus invoked, Sam's face assumed the pompons air with which he always
related a story, and he began,--
"Well, sar, de affair happened in dis way. When de massas arribe, two
o'clock, and went in for long talk wid de colonel, dis chile said to
himself, 'Now what am I going to get them for dinner?' De rations
sarve out dis morning war all skin and bone, and war pretty nigh
finished at lunch. Sam say to himself, 'Captain Manley's sure to say,
'You dine wid me;' but as Captain Manley hadn't got no food himself,
de invitation was berry kind, berry kind indeed; but massa wasn't
likely to get fat on dat invitation."
Sam's narrative was interrupted by a perfect shout of laughter upon
the part of all at table, Captain Manley joining heartily in the laugh
against himself. When they had a little recovered again, Sam went on
as gravely as ever. "Dis struck Sam berry serious, not to have nothing
for dinner after being away seben months; presently idea occur to dis
chile, and he stroll permiscuous up to big farm-house on hill. When
Sam got near house, kept out of sight of window; at last got quite
close, took off shako, and put head suddenly in at window. Sure
enough, just what Sam expected, dere sat missus of farm, fat ole
woman, wid fat ole servant opposite her. De door was open, and dis
little pig and several of his broders and sisters was a frisking in
and out. De old women look up bofe togeder, and dey give a awful
shriek when dey saw dis chile's head; dey fought it were de debil,
sure enough. Dey drop down on dere knees, and begin to pray as fast as
maybe. Den I give a loud 'Yah! yah!' and dey screams out fresh. 'Oh!
good massa debil!' says the ole woman, 'what you want? I been berry,
berry bad, but don't take me away.' You see, Massa Tom, I pick up
little Spanish, 'nuff to understand since you been gone. I not say
nuffin, and de ole woman den go on, 'If you want one soul Massa Debil,
take dis here,' pointing to her serbant;' she been much more wicked
nor me.' Den de serbant she set up awful shriek, and I says, 'Dis time
I hab pity on you, next time I come, if you not good I carry you bofe
away. But must take soul away to big debil 'else he neber forgibe me.
Dere, I will carry off soul of little pig. Gib it me.' De serbant she
gives cry ob joy, jump up, seize little pig, and berry much afraid,
bring him to window. Before I take him I say to old missus, 'Dis a
free gibt on your part?' and she say, 'Oh, yes, oh, yes, good Massa
Debil, you can take dem all if you like.' I say, 'No; only one--and
now me gib you bit advice. My Massa down below hear you very bad ole
women, never gib noting to de poor, berry hard, berry hard. Me advise
you change your conduct, or, as sure as eggs is eggs, he send me up
again for you no time.' Den I gave two great 'Yah! yah's!' again berry
loud, and showed de white ob my eyes, and dey went down on to knees
again, and I go quietly round corner ob house, and walk home wid de
pig which was giben to me. Noting like stealing about dat, Massa
Manley, sar!"
Sam's story was received with roars of laughter, and when they had
recovered themselves a little, Captain Manley said, "It is lucky we
march to-morrow, Sam, for if the good woman were to catch a glimpse of
you in uniform, and were to find she had been tricked, she might lay
a complaint against you, and although, as you say, the pig was freely
given to you, I imagine the Provost Marshal might consider that it was
obtained under false pretences. But here are the other men outside, we
had better adjourn, for every one is longing to hear your adventures."
It was a lovely evening, and as the officers of the Norfolk Rangers
sat or lay round the fire, which was lit for light and cheerfulness
rather than warmth, the boys, after their long wanderings among
strangers, felt how pleasant and bright life was among friends
and comrades. They had first to relate their adventures with the
guerillas, after which it was agreed that they had earned the right to
be silent for the rest of the evening, and song, and jest, and merry
story went round the ring.
Sam was installed under the direction of the doctor, a jovial
Irishman, as concocter of punch, and his office was by no means a
sinecure.
"Now, major, give us the song of the regiment," Captain Manley said,
and, as he spoke, there was a general cry round the circle of "The
Rangers, the Rangers." "I'm agreeable," the major said. "Give me
another tumbler of punch to get my pipes in order. Make it a little
sweeter than the last brew, Sam; yes, that's better. Well, here
goes--full chorus, and no shirking."
THE RANGERS.
"Hurrah for the Rangers, hurrah! hurrah!
Here's to the corps that we love so well;
Ever the first in the deadly fray,
Steady and firm amid shot and shell.
Scattered as skirmishers out in the front,
Contesting each foot of the ground we hold,
Nor yielding a step though we bear the brunt
Of the first attack of the foeman bold.
Hurrah for the Rangers, hurrah! hurrah!
Here's to the corps that we love so well;
Ever the first in the deadly fray,
Steady and firm amid shot and shell.
"Steady boys, steady, the foe falls back,
Sullenly back to the beat of the drum,
Hark to the thunder that nears our flank
Rally in square, boys, their cavalry come.
Squadron on squadron, wave upon wave,
Dashing along with an ocean's force,
But they break into spray on our bayonets' points,
And we mock at the fury of rider and horse.
Hurrah for the Rangers, &c.
"The gunner may boast of the death he deals
As he shatters the foe with his iron hail,
And may laugh with pride as he checks the charge,
Or sees the dark column falter and quail.
But the gunner fights with the foe afar,
In the rear of the line is the battery's place,
The Ranger fights with a sterner joy
For he strives with his foemen face to face.
Hurrah for the Rangers, &c.
"The cavalry man is dashing and gay,
His steed is fast, and his blade is fine,
He blithely rides to the fiercest fray,
And cuts his way through the foeman's line,
But the wild, fierce joys of the deadly breach,
Or the patient pluck of the serried square
Are far away from the horseman's reach,
While the Norfolk Rangers are sure to be there.
Hurrah for the Rangers, &c."
Long, loud, and hearty was the cheering as the last chorus concluded.
"Very good song, very well sung, jolly companions every one," shouted
the doctor. "Now, Manley, keep the ball rolling, give us the 'The
Bivouac,'" Captain Manley emptied his glass, and, without hesitation,
began--
THE BIVOUAC.
"The weary march is over, boys, the camp fire's burning bright,
So gather round the blazing logs, we'll keep high feast to-night,
For every heart is full of joy, and every cheek aglow,
That after months of waiting, at last we meet the foe.
To-morrow's sun will see the fight, and ere that sun goes down,
Our glorious flag another wreath of victory shall crown.
Hurrah, hurrah for the bivouac,
With comrades tried and true,
With faces bright, and spirits light,
And the foemen's fires in view.
"Then fill your cups with Spanish wine, and let the toast go round,
Here's a health to all who love us on dear old England's ground.
Be their tresses gold or auburn, or black as ebon's hue,
Be their eyes of witching hazel, loving gray, or heaven's blue,
Here's to them all, the girls we love, God bless them every one;
May we all be here to toast them when to-morrow's work is done.
Hurrah, hurrah, &c.
"But whate'er to-morrow bring us, it shall shed no gloom to-night,
For a British soldier does not flinch from thought of death in fight;
No better ending could we wish, no worthier do we know,
Than to fall for King and country, with our face towards the foe;
And if we go, our friends who stay will keep our memory bright,
And will drink to us in silence by many a camp-fire's light.
Hurrah, hurrah, &c."
When the last chorus had ceased, the boys, who had had a long march
that morning, and were thoroughly tired, stole quietly off to bed,
but it was not till long after they had gone to sleep that the jovial
party round the fire broke up, and that Sam was relieved from his
duties of concocter of punch.