BUSACO AND TORRES VEDRAS.
Instead of pressing forward upon his invasion of Portugal, Massena
prepared to besiege Almeida, and for a month the British and
Portuguese army remained in their position within a few hours' march
of that town. Wellington expected that Almeida would be able to
resist for two months, and hoped to find some opportunity for falling
suddenly upon the besiegers; but even a resistance of two months would
have made it so late in the season that Massena must have postponed
his invasion until the next spring.
Upon the morning of the 26th of August the French batteries opened
fire, and from Guarda the dull, heavy roar of artillery could be heard
all day. As darkness fell, the officers of the Rangers were, as usual,
assembling round their fire, when the earth seemed to shake beneath
their feet, and a flash like that of summer lightning lit the eastern
sky. "What can that be?" was the general exclamation. A minute later,
and a deep, heavy, prolonged roar sounded in their ears--then all was
quiet.
"That is a big magazine," Captain Manley said, "and I'm afraid it's
the town, for it sounded too heavy for a mere field magazine. If it be
the town, you'll see it won't hold out much longer; even if the actual
damage is not very great, a great explosion always damages the morale
of a defense, and in that case we shall have Massena upon us, and
there will be wigs on the green ere many days are over."
Captain Manley's conclusions were correct. The magazine of Almeida had
exploded with terrific effect. Only six houses were left standing in
the town, a considerable portion of the ramparts was thrown down, and
five hundred people killed on the spot. The stones were hurled in all
directions with such force that forty of the besiegers were hurt in
the trenches.
Colonel Cox, who commanded, endeavored to rally the panic-stricken
garrison, and upon the following morning attempted to negotiate with
Massena, who sent an officer to demand instant surrender.
Defense was, in fact, impossible, but Colonel Cox attempted to
negotiate, because he hoped that Wellington would at once advance to
his rescue. His intentions were frustrated, however, by the treachery
and mutiny of the principal Portuguese officers under him, and the
French at once took possession of the ruins.
The British army fell back a short distance when the news of the
disaster arrived, and a fortnight of great anxiety and watchfulness
passed, as it was not certain by which road or roads Massena would
advance.
It was not until the 18th of September that Massena fairly commenced
his march, having chosen the road from Visen through Martagoa, and the
next day the news reached the Rangers that the British army was to
concentrate on the heights of Busaco.
"So we are going to have a fight for it," Carruthers said to the boys,
as the officers assembled in readiness to take their places when the
troops had fallen in. "What will be the end of it?"
"We shall lick them," an old captain said, "though they are two to
one, and then they will march round us somehow, and then we shall have
to fall back in all haste on Lisbon, and embark there, and we shall
eat our Christmas dinner in England."
There was a general murmur of assent, for at that time the belief was
almost universal in the British army that they would be forced to
abandon Portugal.
"I do not know," Major Fanshawe said. "I heard last night, from a
man who has just returned from sick leave at Lisbon, that there are
thousands of peasants employed under our engineers in getting up some
tremendous works some fifteen miles this side of Lisbon. I should not
be surprised yet if Massena finds the chief a nut too hard to crack,
with all his force."
"I have heard something about these works at Torres Vedras," Captain
Manley said, "a mere rumor; still I believe there must be something in
it. Wellington has only some twenty-five thousand British troops, and
as many Portuguese, while Massena has over a hundred thousand veterans
at his command. Our game would be hopeless unless we have something to
fall back on. No; I have every faith in our general. But there goes
the bugle."
On the 24th the Rangers, with the rest of Picton's division, arrived
on the crest of Busaco, where Cole's and Craufurd's divisions arrived
on the same day. This position was one of immense strength, being a
long ridge, with a very deep valley in front. Upon the opposite side
of this ravine the slope was as steep and sharp as that of Busaco
itself, so that the opposite crest was within easy cannon shot.
The enemy, in order to attack the British position, would have to
descend into the bottom of this steep ravine, and then climb up the
precipitous ascent, to meet the British soldiers awaiting them, fresh
and unshaken, at the top. So strong, indeed, was the position that
the English generals were doubtful whether Massena would venture to
attack.
Upon the 25th Craufurd moved his division forward, and would have
repeated his mistake of the Coa had not Wellington himself gone
forward and recalled the troops, bringing them off with difficulty
in the face of the advancing masses of the French. By three in the
afternoon, 40,000 French infantry were on the ridge opposite Busaco,
and it appeared probable that the battle would take place that
afternoon, in which case the British position would have been
precarious, for neither Spencer's, Hill's, nor Leith's divisions were
up.
Massena, however, was miles behind, and Ney, who commanded the
advance, could not attack without orders; thus, the moment favorable
for the French passed by. When Massena arrived next day, the British
divisions were all up and in their places, and the long crest of
Busaco swarmed with troops. Hill occupied the right across the road to
Pena Cova, then came Leith's 5th division, then came Picton with the
3d division, with Spencer's division, the 1st, next to him. On a
plateau in front of a convent lay Craufurd and Pack, while Cole, with
the 4th division, was on the left.
The 27th and 28th were passed in comparative tranquillity, the rival
armies surveying each other across the chasm. From the woods far below
came up the constant crack of the rifle, as the skirmishers on either
side pushed each other backwards; and on the evening of the 28th this
fighting increased so much in strength and intensity, that the British
troops were some time under arms in expectation of a night attack, for
the enemy's riflemen had pressed far up on the hill-side towards the
British lines. As the night went on, however, the fire ceased, and the
dark ravine between the two long lines of bright watch-fires became
hushed and still.
The Rangers were with Picton's division, and were out as an advance
half way down the ravine, two companies being down in the bottom as
skirmishers. Morning was but just breaking when a heavy fire burst out
in front. The regiment sprang to its feet, and prepared for action.
It was not long in coming, for the fire rolled rapidly up the hill
towards them, and the skirmishing companies came running back, pressed
by a heavy column of the enemy. Reynier had formed in two divisions,
one of which was now pressing forward against Picton's right, while
the object of the other was to gain the crest still farther to the
right, and so place themselves between Picton and Leigh. The whole
regiment was at once engaged, but the French assault was too powerful
to be resisted, and the Rangers and the other regiments of the
advanced brigade gave way sullenly, while the French eagerly pressed
up the hill, although a battery opened upon them from the crest, while
they were unsupported by their own artillery.
"Golly, Massa Peter, dese fellows fight berry hard; look as if dey
lick us dis time," the black, who was in Peter's company, said to him
as the regiment retreated.
"The battle has only begun yet, Sam. We have plenty of fresh troops at
the top of the hill."
"Good ting, dat, Massa Peter. Berry hard work, dis--climb hill, carry
kit, fire gun, dodge de bullets, all sam time."
"You didn't dodge that bullet sharp enough, Sam," Peter said with a
laugh, as the negro's shako was carried off with a ball.
"Him cum too fast. Dere, you frog-eating thief." he said angrily as he
fired his musket at an advancing foe. "Dat serve you right," he went
on to himself as the Frenchman fell. "You spoil Sam's hat. Dis colored
gentleman catch cold first time him come on to rain."
The French continued their impetuous advance. Picton's right, as they
climbed the hill, fell back towards his center, and in half an hour
from the first shot being fired the head of the French column had won
the crest, and, being between Leigh and Picton's divisions, had cut
the British position. Then the column nearest to Picton's division
began to wheel to its right, so as to sweep the crest.
"Lie down, the Rangers; every man down," shouted the colonel, and the
breathless men threw themselves panting on the ground. A wild Irish
shout was heard behind them as they did so, and a tremendous volley of
musketry rang over their heads, and then the 88th and a wing of the
45th dashed across them, and, with fierce cheers, charged that portion
of the column engaged in wheeling. Breathless and in disorder from
their prodigious efforts, the French were unable to resist this fresh
attack. In an instant the British were among them, and mixed up in
wild confusion, fighting hand to hand, the mass of combatants went
mingled together down the hill. Nor was the success of the French
column which had gained the crest of long duration, for Leith brought
up one of his brigades; Colonel Cameron, with the 9th Regiment, dashed
at the enemy with the bayonet, without firing a single shot, while
the 38th attacked their flank; and the French, unable to resist the
onslaught, relinquished their position and retreated down the hill.
Nor upon the French right had Ney's attack proved more successful.
Napier thus describes the combat in this quarter of the field:--"When
the light broke, three heavy masses detached from the sixth corps were
seen to enter the woods below, and to throw forward a profusion of
skirmishers; one of them, under General Marchand, emerging from the
dark chasm and following the main road, seemed intent to turn the
right of the light division; a second, under Loison, made straight up
the mountain against the front; the third remained in reserve. Simon's
brigade, leading Loison's attack, ascended with a wonderful alacrity,
and though the light troops plied it incessantly with musketry, and
the artillery bullets swept through it from the first to the last
section, its order was never disturbed, nor its speed in the least
abated. Ross's guns were worked with incredible quickness, yet their
range was palpably contracted every round; the enemy's shots came
ringing up in a sharper key, the English skirmishers, breathless
and begrimed with powder, rushed over the edge of the ascent, the
artillery drew back, and the victorious cries of the French were heard
within a few yards of the summit. Craufurd, standing alone on one of
the rocks, had been intently watching the progress of their attack,
and now, with a shrill tone, ordered the two regiments in reserve to
charge. The next moment a horrid shout startled the French column, and
eighteen hundred British bayonets went sparkling over the hill. Yet so
brave, so hardy were the leading French, that each man of the first
section raised his musket, and two officers and ten men fell before
them. Not a Frenchman had missed his mark. They could do no more. The
head of their column was violently thrown back upon the rear, both
flanks were overlapped at the same time by the English wings, three
terrible discharges at five yards' distance shattered the wavering
mass, and a long line of broken arms and bleeding carcases marked the
line of flight."
Ney did not renew the attack, and with some desultory skirmishing the
battle ended at two o'clock, and an hour's truce enabled both parties
to carry off their wounded.
Small parties of the French came in contact with the English
skirmishers during the afternoon, but the battle of Busaco was over.
"Don't call dat much of battle," Sam said discontentedly. "Just little
fierce fight, berry out of bref, and den, just as second wind came,
all ober."
The battle of Busaco was indeed one of secondary importance. The
losses were not great on either side, although that of the French was
fully threefold greater than that of the British, as the former were
exposed during their attack to the grape and shell of the British
guns, while the French guns afforded no assistance to their infantry.
The French loss, in killed and wounded and prisoners, did not exceed
4000, of which only 800 were killed. Nor was any strategical advantage
gained by the battle, for the French, upon the following day, found
a road across the hills to the British left from Martagoa through
Bonzalva.
Throughout the day they made feints of renewing the attack upon the
English position, and it was not until late in the afternoon that long
columns of men were seen crossing the hill to the left; and Wellington
discovered that Busaco had been won in vain, for that his flank was
turned, and there was nothing for it but to fall back upon Torres
Vedras. Before night the whole British army was in retreat.
"What a horrible scene of confusion," Tom remarked, as they marched
into the town of Coimbra next day.
"Confusion!" Captain Manley said; "it is enough to drive a
commander-in-chief out of his mind. Here Wellington has for weeks
been endeavoring to get the Portuguese Government to compel all the
population to retire upon Lisbon, carrying all they can, destroying
the mills, and burning all the corn they could not carry off. The
Government did issue the order, but it has taken no steps whatever to
carry it out, although they knew all along that we could never repel
the invasion in the open. As it is, the greater portion of these poor
wretches will lose all they possess, which they might have carried
off quietly enough during the last two months. Many of them will lose
their lives, and they will block the roads so that we shall have the
French down on us to a certainty."
Nothing could be more sad than the scene. The streets of Coimbra were
crowded with fugitives from the country round, and these, as well as
the inhabitants, were all preparing to push onwards towards Lisbon.
Bullock carts and carriages, mules, donkeys, and horses were crowded
together, all laden with the aged, the children, the sick, and such
property as was most portable and valuable. Happily Massena had
a circuitous detour to make; the road in the mountain defile was
scarcely passable, and throughout the march he displayed but little
energy; consequently it was not until the morning of the first of
October that his cavalry engaged those of the light division which was
covering the retreat. The division fell back through the town, and the
inhabitants, who had lingered to the last in some vague hope that the
French would not come, now rushed out again. The bridge behind the
town was choked, and the troops had to halt for some time. In the rear
the pistol shots of the cavalry told of the approach of the French,
and the din made by the panic-stricken fugitives was increased by the
yells of the prisoners shut up and forgotten in the prison hard by.
Their cries and supplications were too painful to be resisted, and the
British forced the prison doors and let them free. Once across the
bridge, the troops found the defile of Condeixa so choked up that it
was impossible to effect a passage, and, had the French pressed them
the division must have been destroyed.
The French infantry, however, had not arrived, and by night the road
was cleared, and the troops passed on.
There was no pursuit, for Massena allowed his troops to halt and
plunder Coimbra, and the British by easy marches, fell back to
Torres Vedras; but though unpursued, the disorder and relaxation of
discipline which always marks a retreat, showed itself, and Wellington
was obliged to hang several plunderers, and to resort to other severe
measures to restore to discipline that army which, only a week before,
had repulsed the best troops of France. Towards the end of the march
the French pressed them again, and Craufurd, with his light division,
had a narrow escape of being cut off.
Great was the satisfaction of the British troops when they took up the
position so carefully prepared for them; equally great the surprise of
Massena and the French army when they beheld the almost impregnable
line of redoubts and fortresses of whose very existence they had only
heard a confused rumor two or three days before. And yet formidable
as was the chain of forts occupied by the British, this was weak in
comparison to the second line, some five or six miles in the rear,
to which Wellington would have fallen back if driven from his first
position. This second position was indeed that which he had originally
intended to have taken up, the redoubts on the exterior range of hills
being intended as outposts; but, while Massena delayed his advance,
the outside line of fortifications had so grown and increased in
strength, that Wellington resolved to hold them in the first place.
There were, therefore, as will be seen by the plan, three lines of
defense. The first from Alhandra on the Tagus to Zizandre on the
sea-coast. This, following the windings of the hills, was twenty-nine
miles long; the second and main line was from Quintella on the Tagus
to the mouth of the San Lorenza, twenty-four miles in length; the
third, intended to cover an embarkation, in case of necessity,
extended from Passo d'Arcos on the Tagus to the town of Junquera on
the coast.
Massena spent some days in surveying the British position, and came to
the conclusion that it was too strong to be attacked. Had the order
of Wellington been carried out, and the whole country wasted of
provisions, the French army must have made a precipitate retreat to
avoid starvation, for they had no provisions or connection with Spain.
Wilson and Trant, with Portuguese levies, hung upon their rear, and
captured Coimbra, where Massena had left his sick and wounded, 5000 in
number, upon the very day after the main French army advanced from the
town. So vast were the supplies, however, left in the country that
Massena was able to take up his position, first immediately in front
of the British lines, and afterwards at Santarem, within a day's march
of them, and to maintain his army in food throughout the winter until
the beginning of March.
"Have you seen the _Gazette_, Scudamore?" Carruthers asked, rushing
into the tent one morning about a week after the regiment had settled
down in its tents on the heights of Torres Vedras.
"No; what's up?" Tom replied.
"There you are; you have both got your steps. Thomas Scudamore,
ensign, Norfolk Rangers, to be lieutenant, for distinguished services
in the field. Peter Scudamore, ditto, ditto. I wondered the chief had
done nothing for you after your journey through Spain."
"I am sure I did not expect anything," Tom answered, "and was quite
content when the colonel told us that Lord Wellington had said he was
pleased with the manner we had done our work. However, I am very glad;
but it is not pleasant going over five or six fellows' heads."
"Fortune of war," Carruthers said laughing. "Besides, two of them are
at the depôt, Sankey is away on sick leave, and none of the three who
are senior to you here will ever set the Thames on fire. No, no, you
have fairly earned your step and no one can say a word against it."
The news soon spread, and the boys were heartily congratulated by all
the officers of the regiment on their promotion, which placed them
next on the list to Carruthers, who had previously been the junior
lieutenant. Promotion in those days was rapid, and after a severe
engagement an ensign only joined upon the previous week might find
himself a lieutenant, from the number of death vacancies caused in
the ranks above him. The Norfolk Rangers had not suffered heavily at
Talavera, or the boys might have had their lieutenant's rank before
this, without performing any exceptional services.
"I wish we could get two months' leave, Tom," Peter said that night.
"Of course it is impossible, but it would be jolly to drop in upon
Rhoda. By her letter she seems well and happy, and aunt is very kind
to her. It would be nice; and now we are lieutenants, aunt wouldn't
tell us to rub our shoes."
"No," Tom laughed, "or be afraid of our pelting her pigeons and
Minnie."
"No," Peter said. "Evidently she is coming round. Rhoda said that
since she has heard that we have got our commissions she has given
up prophesying once or twice a day that we shall come to a bad
end--probably hanging."
"Yes, and Rhoda said in her letter yesterday that aunt was quite
touched with those lace mantillas we got at Madrid, and sent off the
day after we rejoined, and actually remarked that, although we could
no longer be looked upon as boys, and seemed really as hair-brained
and fond of getting into scrapes as ever, yet it was evident that we
were good, kindly lads, and meant well at heart."
"I wish," Tom said, with a sudden burst of laughter, "that we could
dress in our old disguises, I as a student of theology you as a mild
young novice; what a lark we would have with her!" and the boys went
off into such shouts of laughter, that their aunt would have thought
them more scatter-brained than ever if she had heard them, while from
the tent of Captain Manley on one side, and of Carruthers and another
young officer on the other, came indignant expostulations, and
entreaties that they would keep quiet, and let other people go to
sleep.