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ROUGH · SKETCHES
OF THE
LIFE OF AN OLD SOLDIER:
DURING A SERVICE IN
THE WEST INDIES;
AT THE SIEGE OF COPENHAGEN IN 1807;
IN THE PENINSULA AND THE SOUTH OF FRANCE IN THE
CAMPAIGNS FROM 1808 TO 1814,
WITH THE LIGHT DIVISION;
IN THE NETHERLANDS IN 1815;
INCLUDING
THE BATTLES OF QUATRE BRAS AND WATERLOO:
WITH
A SLIGHT SKETCH
OF THE THREE YEARS PASSED BY THE ARMY OF OCCUPATION
IN FRANCE, &c. &c. &c.
----------
BY LIEUT.-COLONEL J. LEACH, C.B.
LATE OF THE RIFLE BRIGADE, AND PREVIOUSLY OF THE 70TH REGIMENT.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN,
PATERNOSTER ROW.
-------
M.DCCC.XXXI.
TO
THE 70TH REGIMENT,
AND
THE OLD 95TH,
(NOW THE RIFLE BRIGADE),
IN WHICH TWO CORPS
I PASSED ONE AND TWENTY EVENTFUL YEARS,
THE FOLLOWING PAGES
=Are Inscribed=
BY THEIR OLD AND SINCERELY ATTACHED COMRADE,
J. LEACH.
PREFACE.
-------
As it is the fashion now-a-days for every one to become an author, I see
no reason why I should not try my hand at it also, and let my book run
the same risk of being criticised, lashed, and abused by the literati
(if, indeed, they deign to peruse it), as is every day the case with
some production or other, and to which every one, who is bold enough to
make similar experiments, must make up his mind.
Such as mine is, forth it goes to the world; and it must be taken for
better for worse.
During many years of active service, I kept a daily journal, in which I
inserted matters and things as they appeared to me at the instant; and
from which journals, aided by a tolerably fair memory, and some old
notes and memoranda, the following pages were put together in a rough
state many years ago, and may therefore, with great propriety, be styled
“Rough Sketches.”
I pretend not to any thing resembling a history of the Peninsular War. A
very old Light Division comrade of mine, Colonel NAPIER, has already
done it in so masterly a style, as to throw every other work on the same
subject comparatively into the shade.
The operations of the Light Division of the Peninsular army I have
detailed more minutely than those of any other. That division was,
during a succession of campaigns, much detached from the mass of the
army, having ample employment at the outposts. But I have not omitted to
mention, also, the movements of other divisions, whenever an opportunity
offered for my becoming acquainted with them.
It is unnecessary to remind my military readers, that as I never, for
one hour in my whole life, held a staff appointment, but always did duty
with my regiment, it was impossible that I could be acquainted, on every
occasion, with the general combined movements of so large an army.
Those, however, who may have patience to wade through my “Rough
Sketches,” will find in them a little about voyages, storms, shipwrecks,
yellow fevers, musquitos, sangaree and sangarorum, sharks, dolphins, and
flying-fish; night marches and day marches, camps and bivouacs, advances
and retreats, skirmishes, battles, and sieges; signoras, waltzes,
boleros, and fandangos; bull-fights, wild boar shooting, wolves, and red
deer; British soldiers, and French, Spanish, and Portuguese,—all of
which I have endeavoured to depict in their true colours.
If I have failed in my attempt, I am sorry for it; but my regret will be
infinitely greater, if any of my brother-soldiers, whether of the
cavalry, infantry, artillery, or engineers, either of the Peninsular
army, or of that which fought at Waterloo, should accuse me of not
having rendered due praise to the conduct of their respective divisions,
brigades, or regiments, on particular occasions. Let me again remind
them, that I was always regimentally employed; and that if any such
omissions exist in my book, they are quite unintentional.
That they will be viewed in that light, by the liberal-minded, I
entertain neither fear nor doubt.
Forty-nine out of every fifty of the scenes which I have here
endeavoured to describe, I was an eye-witness of; and, on one or two
occasions, when agues and fevers placed me for a short period on the
sick list, the events which took place in the interim I became
acquainted with, by being allowed to have access to the log-books of
some one or other of my brother-officers. The thread of the narrative is
therefore unbroken.
CONTENTS.
PREFACE _Page_
vii
CHAPTER I.
Join my regiment in Jersey. Embark for England. Winter at Chatham.
The 52d regiment made Light Infantry. New system of drill
introduced. Encamp at Shorncliffe in Kent. French camp and
flotilla at Boulogne. Invasion threatened, and precautions taken
by Sir John Moore. The Duke of York reviews the troops at
Shorncliffe. Sudden order for our regiment to embark for the
West Indies. Unfortunate occurrence on the march from
Shorncliffe to Portsmouth. Remarks thereon. Embark and sail for
Barbadoes. Tremendous storm. Various occurrences on the voyage.
Arrive at Barbadoes. First impressions as to climate, &c. Death
of the Commander-in-Chief of the West Indies. We proceed to
Antigua. The harbour and dock-yard. Disembark at midnight. Lose
my baggage. Scarcity of fresh water in Antigua. The regiment
suffers dreadfully from yellow fever. Its losses. Hurricane.
Officers’ funerals. The military governor and his brigade-major
die. A receipt for yellow fever. Dancing and other gaieties.
Death of Sir William Myers, the new Commander-in-Chief in the
West Indies. Terrible mortality in his family. Death of the new
Governor of Antigua. Great mortality in the 96th regiment in
Antigua. A French squadron. Dominica is attacked. The French are
repulsed by the 46th regiment. We expect a visit from the same
squadron at Antigua. Preparations for its reception. We are
reinforced. Long marches. Sudden death of several soldiers from
excessive heat. The 68th regiment is sent to Antigua. Its
immense losses by climate. Horse-races and balls at St. John’s.
More funerals. Lord Nelson arrives in search of the French and
Spanish squadrons. He returns to Europe. My health begins to
suffer. A medical board orders me to Europe for its restoration.
My own ideas as to _slavery_. Take my passage for Europe. Sail
to Tortola. Large homeward-bound fleet. Dreadful gales and other
mishaps on the voyage home. Anchor in Dublin Bay. Quarantine.
Land at Dublin. Proceed to England. 1
CHAPTER II.
Exchange into the 95th Rifle Corps. Expedition to Denmark. Sail to
Elsineur. Imposing appearance of our numerous fleet. Scenery on
the Danish and Swedish coasts. A party to Elsineur. Cronberg
castle. Hamlet’s garden. Disorderly conduct of the Danes. Causes
thereof. The army disembarks. The reserve commanded by Sir
Arthur Wellesley. Advance towards Copenhagen. A sortie made by
the garrison. Affairs between the Danish gun-boats and our
advanced squadron. Ludicrous nocturnal affair at the outposts.
The Danish pickets are driven in. The reserve is sent into the
interior of the island of Zealand. Affair near Kioge with the
Danish militia. A sortie from Copenhagen repulsed by Lieut.
Light, of the 50th regiment. Bombardment of Copenhagen, and
surrender of the Danish fleet and stores. Visit to the capital.
Its deplorable appearance. The army re-embarks. List of Danish
prizes. A large fleet of homeward-bound merchantmen joins us. We
sail for England. A slight sketch of the Danes, and of the
island of Zealand. Stormy passage to England. 26
CHAPTER III.
Four companies of our 2d battalion embark. Sail to Cork, and join
an expedition. Its destination. Boating excursions. The
expedition sails. We anchor in Mondego Bay. Brigadier-General
Fane’s brigade. The army disembarks in Portugal. Monks, friars,
padres, and Portuguese females. March to Lavaos. Joined by
troops under General Spencer. A present from the Portuguese
junta. A Dutch concert. The army advances. Features of the
country. Reach Lyria. Swiss deserters. Affair with the French
near Obidos. Battle of Roleia. A close shave and a narrow
escape. Lieutenant Cockrane. March to Lourinha. Reinforcements
join the army from England. Battle of Vimiera. Sir H. Burrard
arrives to take the command. A flag of truce. Convention of
Cintra. Reflections thereon. Sir John Moore arrives. The British
army encamps near Lisbon. Amity between the French and English
soldiers in Lisbon. Lisbon. Its opera, &c. &c. An eccentric
Highland chieftain. Fevers and agues; and by what means a person
so afflicted may be rendered still more miserable. 40
CHAPTER IV.
The army under Sir John Moore leaves Lisbon. Marches to Salamanca.
Sir John Hope joins Sir John Moore near Salamanca. Sir David
Baird lands at Corunna. The whole army is concentrated. Affairs
of cavalry. The army moves to attack Marshal Soult. Suddenly
countermanded. Distribution of our first and second battalions.
Gallant affair of cavalry near Mayorca. General Crawford’s light
brigade destroys a bridge. The French endeavour to interrupt
them in their work. General Crawford marches to Benavente.
Brilliant action of cavalry near Benavente. Two light brigades
sent to Vigo. Their march thither, and embarkation. Cursory view
of Sir John Moore’s retreat to Corunna, and his death. The army
returns to England. Our third battalion is formed. 59
CHAPTER V.
The Light Brigade composed of the 43d and 52d regiments of Light
Infantry, and the 1st battalion 95th Rifle Corps. Embark for
Lisbon under Brigadier-General Robert Crawford. Arrive at
Lisbon. Proceed by water to Vallada. Santarem. Convents and
nuns. March from Santarem to join Sir Arthur Wellesley. Sketch
of the march. The Pass of Villa Velha, Castello Branco, Zarza
Maior, Coria, Orapeza, &c. Extraordinary long march on 28th
July, and want of water. We join the army at Talavera. Slight
sketch of the field of action. 67
CHAPTER VI.
Scarcity of provisions. Horrid stench from the unburied bodies of
men and horses. I lose my horse, and with him all my campaigning
comforts. The British army marches on Orapeza to attack Soult.
Conduct of General Cuesta at Talavera. The British army crosses
the Tagus at Arzobispo. Desperate attack made by General
Crawford’s troops on a herd of swine. How to dress pork in the
most expeditious manner. The army retires towards Delatosa.
General Crawford’s division proceeds to the bridge of Almaraz.
Long and harassing marches thither. Parched peas and boiled
wheat our food. A fortnight at Almaraz. Scanty diet of bran
cakes and goat’s flesh, without salt. How to reduce a corpulent
person. The army falls back to the southern frontier of
Portugal, and is cantoned near the Guadiana. A short account of
our retreat. Maravao. Castello de Vide. Jollification in the
woods near it. Shooting party on the 1st of September.
Portalegre. General Catline Crawford’s brigade. Aronches.
General Crawford’s division reaches Campo Maior. 87
CHAPTER VII.
The country near Campo Maior, and the climate of Alemtejo. The
army becomes very sickly. Fate of General Cuesta’s army after we
parted company with it at Talavera. Various descriptions of
field-sports near Campo Maior. How to keep off fevers, agues,
&c. Shooting excursions in the forest of Albuquerque. Wild
boars, wolves, and red deer. Bathing excursions of our
battalion, and its march to and from the Caya. Destruction of
hares, rabbits, and partridges. Riding down red-legged
partridges. Lieut.-Colonel Sidney Beckwith’s system contrasted
with that of many commanding officers of regiments. Rumours of
the army being about to return to England. The army continues
sickly. The army leaves its cantonments on the Guadiana, and
proceeds to the northern frontier of Portugal. Our march to that
point. Students and young padres at the University of Coimbra
uselessly employed. Sketch of the country between Coimbra and
Pinhel, and our march through it. The 95th Rifle Corps and 1st
German Hussars cross the Coa, and take up the outposts. The
manner in which we passed our time in the outlandish regions
between the Coa and Agueda, until the campaign of 1810 opened.
Various amusements for the soldiers encouraged by Lieut.-Colonel
Beckwith. 104
CHAPTER VIII.
A skirmish with the French near Barba del Puerco. The whole of our
battalion moves up to the Agueda, and occupies an extended line
of posts. Massacre of a French soldier by some Spanish
shepherds, near Almofala. Night attack made on four companies of
our battalion at the pass of Barba del Puerco. The enemy is
repulsed with loss. Observations. Letter from Lord Wellington to
Colonel Beckwith, expressing his approbation of the conduct of
his corps on the occasion. General Crawford also thanks the
regiment in orders. The French force at San Felices reinforced
from Salamanca. Character of General Loison. General Crawford
withdraws the troops from Barba del Puerco. We occupy Villa de
Ciervo. Our ten companies reduced to eight, and some officers
sent to England to recruit. Fine specimens of crystal found near
Villa de Ciervo. My establishment is augmented by a young wolf.
Two Portuguese light battalions join General Crawford. We are
reinforced also by a troop of horse artillery, the 14th and 16th
Light Dragoons. Extensive line of posts guarded by General
Crawford’s corps. A large army under Marshal Massena assembles
near Ciudad Rodrigo, intended to invade Portugal. The three
different corps which composed it. By whom commanded. Massena’s
proclamation to the Portuguese. He lays siege to Rodrigo. The
Light Division watch him closely, and are constantly getting
under arms from various causes. Invidious feeling of certain
persons in the army towards the Light Division. The French
batteries open on Rodrigo. Their cavalry drive our pickets over
the Azarva. Prognostications of some wiseacres in the army that
the siege of Rodrigo would be raised by Lord Wellington. General
Junot crosses the Azarva to reconnoiter our force. Captain
Krauchenberg, of the 1st German Hussars, distinguishes himself.
General Crawford retires across the Duas Casas, and takes up a
position behind the Touron. General Junot’s cautious manner of
advancing. Query: Why did Massena never attempt to cut off the
Light Division from the Coa with his numerous cavalry? Rodrigo
surrenders to the French. General Crawford surprises a French
detachment. Colonel Talbot, of the 14th Light Dragoons, killed.
Gallantry of his regiment. Exemplary conduct of the French
infantry in square. Observations. 123
CHAPTER IX.
General Crawford falls back to Junsa, on the Coa. The French
advance. Fort Conception is destroyed by mines. Action of the
Coa, 24th July, 1810. Major M’Leod of the 43d regt. French
grenadiers storm the bridge, and are destroyed. General Crawford
retires at night to Valverde. Reflections on the events of the
day. We march to Celerico, and make huts near the town. The
Light Division is divided into two brigades. Massena besieges
Almeida. The Light Division moves up to support the cavalry. The
powder magazine in Almeida explodes and destroys the town. The
garrison capitulates. Affair between our cavalry and the French
near Freixadas. The army retires towards Coimbra. Excursion to
the summit of a mountain to see a lake. Discussion with a padre
as to the qualities attributed to its waters. We continue the
retreat. The Light Division arrives at Mortagoa. Affair of
cavalry. We fall back on Buzaco, engaged with the French
advanced guard. Sketch of the position. 144
CHAPTER X.
Battle of Buzaco. Flag of truce. General Simon’s baggage brought
in. Wounded of the two armies removed from the field. Terrible
carnage in and near Sula. The light troops constantly engaged.
Deserters come over to us. Their reports of Massena’s
intentions. The French army breaks up, and marches away to our
left. Lord Wellington retires from Buzaco to the lines of Torres
Vedras. Occurrences on the march. Stores destroyed at Pombal.
King John’s coffin in the cathedral at Battalha. Affair between
our rear-guard and the French advanced guard. Our habitation
takes fire, and we are nearly burnt out of it,—horses, mules,
donkeys, and baggage. Affair of cavalry near Alcoentre.
Speculations on Massena not having pursued us more vigorously in
the retreat. The Light Division reaches Alemquer. The French
turn us out of it without our dinners. We retire to Arruda in
bad humour and in dreadful weather. An agreeable surprise. A
word or two relative to the lines of Torres Vedras. Gun-boats on
the Tagus. Jack Tar’s zeal. Great sufferings of the Portuguese
from the French invasion. Reconnoissances made by Massena, and
skirmishes brought on by it. Sharp affair between Sir Brent
Spencer’s division and the enemy. Scarcity of provisions in the
country in our front. Our employments whilst we remained in the
lines. The French army falls back to a position behind the Rio
Maior. Sentries of straw. We march in pursuit, and take some
prisoners. Dead Frenchmen, horses, mules, and donkeys, on the
road-side. The Light Division comes up with the enemy near
Cartaxo. We are preparing to attack, when Lord Wellington
arrives and countermands it. Causes thereof. The French retire
across the Rio Maior. Rough sketch of their position. General
Hill crosses the Tagus. The Light Division bivouac in a
pine-wood. Washed out of a water-course by the rain. Lord
Wellington makes demonstrations against the French position. The
Light Division engaged with the enemy’s light troops on the
left. The troops are withdrawn. 164
CHAPTER XI.
The Light Division holds the outposts at the bridge of Santarem.
General Junot wounded near Rio Maior. The allied army is put
into cantonments. How we passed the winter. Sufferings of the
French army from want of provisions and forage. They are
harassed by the armed peasantry and militia. Shooting and
coursing parties close to the French videttes. Their courteous
conduct on those occasions towards us. Anecdote of a dragoon and
his cloak. Burlesque on horse-racing in the cantonments of the
Light Division. Flags of truce. Conversation with French
officers at the bridge of Santarem. Theatrical performances. The
Marquis de la Romana dies. The Duke of Brunswick’s corps joins
the Light Division. They desert by wholesale to the French.
Several are shot by sentence of a court-martial. The corps is
sent out of the Light Division. Lord Wellington contemplates
relieving the Light Division for a time at the outposts, to give
the men rest. This is not carried into effect. Some regiments
join the army from England. The 7th division of infantry is
formed. I go with a brother-officer on a frolic to Lisbon for
five days. Return to our old post at the bridge. Lieutenant
Strenowitz, of the 1st German Hussars, surprises a French
cavalry post. Marshal Mortier defeats a Spanish army near
Badajoz, and lays siege to the place. Massena commences his
retreat out of Portugal. State of Santarem. The 1st battalion
95th Riflemen drives the French from a village. The Light
Division and cavalry come up with the French near Pombal. The
castle is attacked. Action near Redinha. Reach Condeixa. The
Portuguese militia gain possession of Coimbra. Massena changes
his line of retreat. Lord Wellington attacks Marshal Ney. He
falls back to Miranda de Corvo. Conduct of the French army
during the retreat. The French leave numbers of baggage-animals
on the road much lacerated. The Light Division finds the enemy
on the Ceira. Action near Foz d’Aroce. Remarks. The army
out-marches the commissariat. Major Stewart of the 95th Rifle
corps. His character. Lord Wellington crosses the Alva. Massena
retreats towards Celerico. Affair near Freixadas. The 95th loses
its adjutant. His character. The army marches on Guarda. Massena
falls back behind the Coa. Action near Sabugal. Colonel
Beckwith. 185
CHAPTER XII.
The French army re-enters Spain. They leave a garrison in Almeida,
which is blockaded. The Light Division and 1st German Hussars
take up their original line of posts. Skirmishes at Marialva
bridge. Some companies of our corps are sent to shoot the cattle
at Almeida. Massena assembles his army to relieve Almeida. The
Light Division and 1st German Hussars fall back and join the
army in position, near Fuentes d’Onoro. Battle of Fuentes
d’Onoro. Flag of truce in the evening. The wounded removed.
Conversation with some French officers. A sprig of nobility in
the French army at the head of one of their Hussar regiments.
Colonel Beckwith’s brigade occupies Fuentes d’Onoro for the
night. Precautions for its defence. The hostile armies remain
close to each other for many days. Waggon-loads of wounded
Frenchmen sent to Rodrigo. Marshal Marmont arrives from France.
Assumes the command of the army in our front, and supersedes
Massena. He inspects the infantry of the Imperial Guard within
view of our position. The French army retires behind the Agueda.
We resume our original line of outposts. Almeida is blown up,
and the garrison escape. Marmont sends a cavalry force to
reconnoiter Colonel Beckwith’s brigade. We send them back faster
than they advanced. Intelligence reaches us of the battle of
Albuera. We celebrate the king’s birth-day. Sudden order to
march in the midst of our festivity. Affair between the 1st
Royal Dragoons and the French cavalry. We march into Alemtejo. A
few lines relative to the march thither. Encamp on the Caya.
Gallant but unsuccessful attempts against Fort San Christoval.
The army offers battle to the united armies of Soult and
Marmont. They decline the challenge, and fall back to Seville
and Placentia. Terrible sickness in our army. Action of cavalry
near Campo Maior. Fort La Lippe. I receive a present from a
Portuguese don. Starved state of our horses. The army marches
back to the northern frontier of Portugal. A bee-hive captured.
Staff characters. 209
CHAPTER XIII.
The Light Division crosses the Agueda. Lord Wellington
reconnoiters Rodrigo. Don Julian Sanchez. The French governor
taken prisoner by Guerillas. A picket of our light cavalry made
prisoners in the Sierra de Gata. The Light Division reinforced
by the third battalion of the 95th Rifle corps from Cadiz.
Deaths by Alemtejo fever. I cross the mountains with my own
company and one of Portuguese. Wild scenery. Goatherds. Their
dress, language, and habitations. Rejoin the Light Division.
Marmont advances to Rodrigo. The Light Division in position on
the Vadillo. Gallant conduct of General Colville’s brigade. The
Light Division joins the 3d and 4th near Guinaldo. The army
falls back to Aldea de Ponte. The Light Division engaged with
the French cavalry and dismounted chasseurs. Brilliant charge of
the Fusileer brigade. General Picton’s light troops engaged. The
army retires to Soita. Marmont follows the allied army no
further, and falls back to Placentia. Our army goes into
cantonments. Comparative merits of Spanish and English
greyhounds. A new governor arrives at Rodrigo. Winter quarters
in Spanish villages. Libraries not in vogue. An essay on cigars,
and their utility in campaigning. A party made to shoot wild
deer. General Hill surprises a French division. A shooting party
in the mountains. Boleros, fandangos, and Irish jigs. Capital
sport with the woodcocks. A good dancer and a particularly bad
shot. Excursion to Robadillia. Just punishment inflicted on a
demi-brigade of padres. The Light Division invests and lays
siege to Ciudad Rodrigo. Redoubt of San Francisco stormed and
taken. The siege and storming of Rodrigo. Death of Generals
Crawford and M’Kinnon. Remarks on the defence made by the French
governor. Contrast between the siege of 1810 and that of 1812.
The army marches to the southward and besieges Badajoz.
Difficulty of keeping our horses alive during the march. Siege
of Badajoz. Storming of the place. 227
CHAPTER XIV.
Marmont penetrates into Portugal during the siege. Lord Wellington
marches back to the north. General Alten appointed to command
the Light Division. The army advances to Salamanca. Takes up a
position. Marmont’s army opposite. A fortified convent in
Salamanca is besieged by the 6th Division. It is set fire to,
and the garrison capitulates. Marmont retreats behind the Douro.
We follow him. A dance at Navis del Rey. Arrive at Rueda. Wine
vaults. French soldiers assassinated by the Spaniards. Marmont
is reinforced. The Light Division falls back to Castrejon. The
French cross the Douro. Attack the troops at Castrejon. We fall
back behind the Guarena, closely followed by Marmont. Beautiful
evolutions of the two armies. The 27th and 40th regiments
repulse the French with loss. Deaths from want of water and
excessive heat. British six-pounders and French nines, with
their respective advanced guards. Observations on the fire-arms
of French and British dragoons. The two armies march within
cannon-shot of each other for several days in succession. The
Light Division crosses the Tormes, by a ford at night, in a
tremendous thunder-storm. Battle of Salamanca. Marmont’s
promises to the Spaniards of destroying Lord Wellington’s army
not fulfilled. Opinions of certain British officers in the
Portuguese army, as to the comparative merits of Portuguese,
British, and French soldiers. Gallant attack of General Bock’s
cavalry brigade on the French rear-guard. We pursue the French
many days. Various reports of Marmont’s death. Corpse of the
French General Ferez dug up and exposed to view by the
Spaniards. We cross the Douro. Valladolid. Mode adopted of
raising the wind to purchase bread, &c. The army marches on
Madrid. Segovia. A beautiful Castilian. Palaces of El Rio Frio
and San Ildefonso. Pass the Guadaramma mountains. Encamp in the
park of the Escurial. The palace. Affair between some Portuguese
and French cavalry. The army enters Madrid. Its reception.
French garrison in the Retiro capitulates. A word or two about
the capital. Its palace, streets, public walks, Castilian women,
&c. Pheasant-shooting in Joseph Bonaparte’s park. A grand ball.
A bull-fight. Extravagant fondness of the Spaniards of both
sexes for this amusement. Four divisions march to Burgos, and
lay siege to the castle. Soult raises the siege of Cadiz and
marches on Madrid. General Hill and Colonel Skerrit join the
troops at Madrid. Colonel Skerrit repulses Soult’s advanced
guard at the bridge of Aranjuez. The Light Division marches to
the front from Madrid. Soult passes the Tagus. We bid adieu,
with great regret, to Madrid. 260
CHAPTER XV.
Commence the retreat to Salamanca. A wild boar killed. The armies
from Burgos and Madrid unite near Salamanca. The army retreats
to the Agueda. Sketch of the retreat. Rations of acorns and
oak-leaves for man and horse. The Light Division engaged at San
Munos. General Paget taken prisoner. We arrive at Rodrigo. The
campaign of 1812 concludes. A few lines relative to it. We go
into winter-quarters. Establish a regimental mess in an old
barn. A supply of Douro wine. Vocal performers. Circular letter
to officers commanding regiments, relative to the late retreat.
The Light Division establish theatrical performances. Lydia
Languish and Julia drink punch and smoke cigars behind the
scenes. Coursing, woodcock-shooting, and Lord Wellington’s
fox-hounds. Boleros, fandangos, waltzes, &c. &c. in our village.
Hot punch by no means disapproved of by our fair partners. Lord
Wellington proceeds to Cadiz for a short time. The French
general Foy makes an attempt to surprise General Hill’s advanced
post at Bejar, and is repulsed. General Kempt is appointed to
command a brigade in the Light Division. Preparations for the
campaign of 1813. Lord Wellington reviews the Light Division and
1st German Hussars. The Hussar Brigade, the Life Guards, and
Blues, join the army, from England. The eight divisions of
infantry, and by whom commanded. 289
CHAPTER XVI.
The campaign of 1813 opens. The 2d and Light Divisions march on
Salamanca. Sir Thomas Graham, with the six other divisions,
crosses the Douro. He advances to the Esla and crosses it. The
Light Division encamps at San Munos. Contrast between our
situation then with that of the 17th of November, 1812, on the
same spot. We reach the Tormes. The French retire from
Salamanca, and are pursued towards the Douro. They suffer from
our horse artillery and cavalry. The Light Division crosses the
Douro at Toro. Brilliant affair of cavalry, wherein the Hussar
brigade distinguishes itself. We follow the French to Palencia,
and from thence to Burgos. The French blow up the castle of
Burgos, and retreat behind the Ebro. We pass the Ebro at Puente
Arena. Magnificent scenery. Appearance of the troops descending
the pass. Language, dress, and appearance of the people
northward of the Ebro. Beautiful scenery at every step. The
Light Division surprises a French division near St. Millan. The
French army assembles near Vittoria. Sale by auction in the camp
of the Light Division. Ladies’ dresses, &c. &c. 304
CHAPTER XVII.
Battle of Vittoria. The Light Division and some cavalry pursue the
French rear-guard on the road to Pampeluna. Engaged with them
several days. Two French ladies restored to their husbands.
Baron Alten directs the movements of the advanced guard with
great judgment and effect. We take the last piece of artillery
but one in possession of the French rear-guard. The country
between Salvaterra and Pampeluna favourable for a retreating
army. Reflections on approaching the Pyrenees. Lord Wellington
marches with the 3d, 4th, and Light Divisions against General
Clausel. A Spanish priest apprises that general of our
movements, and mars our plans. Our benedictions on the said
padre. We return to Pampeluna, and assist in the blockade. March
into the Pyrenees. Splendid scenery. Sir Rowland Hill’s corps
engaged in the passes. Vale of San Estevan. A week spent there.
Dress, language, &c. of the Spanish Basques. Trout-fishing on
the Bidassoa. The Light Division advances to Vera. Drives the
French out of it into the pass. The first view of the ocean for
four years. Cheers of the soldiers on seeing it. Rough sketch of
the position of our army in the Pyrenees. Quadrilles danced by
our French neighbours in their encampment opposite to us. Sir
Thomas Graham besieges St. Sebastian. The French entrench
themselves in our front. An attempt to storm St. Sebastian
fails. Marshal Soult attacks our right wing. It falls back
towards Pampeluna. Defeats the French, and drives them again
into France, with great slaughter. The 7th and Light Divisions
fall back from Vera and Echelar. Soult’s proclamation to his
army before he attacked the allies in the Pyrenees. The Light
Division makes forced marches to reach the bridge of Yanci. The
Riflemen inflict a severe loss on the retreating columns of the
French. General Kempt’s brigade drives the enemy from a high
mountain into France. Gallant attack made by General Barnes’
brigade. The hostile armies occupy their former positions. 317
CHAPTER XVIII.
We celebrate the anniversary of the formation of our corps. St.
Sebastian is stormed and taken. The French pass the Bidassoa
near Vera. Part of the Light Division engaged in that town. The
French attack the Spaniards, and are repulsed. They retreat to
the Bidassoa, and force the bridge of Vera at night. Movements
of the Light Division on this occasion. Lord Aylmer’s brigade
joins the army from England. The left wing of the army passes
the Bidassoa. The Light Division and Spaniards storm the
entrenchments in the pass of Vera. Gallantry of Lieut.-Colonel
Colbourne’s brigade. A French gun-brig destroyed by British
cruisers, in sight of both armies. Horrible weather in our
mountain encampment. Tents continually blown down. Violent
snow-storm. Two Portuguese soldiers of the pickets die from
cold. Pampeluna surrenders. The army invades France. Battle of
the Nivelle. Approach Bayonne. French entrenched camp. Position
of the allied army. Soult reconnoiters our line of pickets.
Skirmishes. The Light Division drives back the French advanced
posts in its front. 336
CHAPTER XIX.
Sir Rowland Hill passes the Nive. Battles of the Nive. The French
are beaten in every attempt against us. We dance-in the New-year
of 1814 at Arcanguez. Reflections on the past and present
situations of the two armies. Soult manœuvres near Dax. We take
the field for a few days in very inclement weather. Return to
cantonments. Heavy fall of snow in the Pyrenees. Capital
woodcock shooting. The army moves to its right. Our battalion
marches to St. Jean de Luz for its new clothing. Sir John Hope
blockades Bayonne. He passes the Adour. The Guards repulse a
sortie from the garrison. We march from St. Jean de Luz to
rejoin the army. Orthes. Handsome peasantry. We rejoin the Light
Division. Soult makes demonstrations against Sir Rowland Hill’s
corps. The 15th Hussars attack a French cavalry post and take
some prisoners. The 7th Division is detached to Bourdeaux. Lord
Wellington marches on Tarbes. Affair near Vic Bigorre. Action
near Tarbes. The French retreat towards Toulouse. We follow
them. A pontoon-bridge is established below Toulouse. The army
crosses. 351
CHAPTER XX.
Battle of Toulouse. The French retreat to Carcassone. The allied
army enters Toulouse. Despatches reach Lord Wellington from
Paris relative to Bonaparte’s abdication, and his departure for
Elba. He transmits this information to Soult, who declines a
cessation of hostilities. We march from Toulouse towards
Carcassone. Count Gazan meets us with a flag of truce. Soult
acknowledges the new order of things. Hostilities cease. The
dismay of fire-eaters at the termination of the war in the
Peninsula and south of France. Sortie of the French garrison
from Bayonne. Some regiments embark at Bourdeaux for America.
Five weeks at Castel Sarrazin. Soult’s army reviewed at
Montauban by the Duke d’Angoulême. We march to Bourdeaux. Take
leave of our Portuguese allies. The parting. Arrive at
Bourdeaux. Lord Wellington reviews the 43d, 52d, and 95th
regiments. We embark for England. 363
CHAPTER XXI.
CAMPAIGN OF 1815 IN FLANDERS.
Embark for Ostend. Proceed to Brussels. We are appointed to Sir
Thomas Picton’s division. Battle of Quatre Bras. Ligny.
Predictions and foretellings _after_ things have occurred, no
uncommon practice. Fire-side tacticians and critics. The army
falls back from Quatre Bras to Waterloo. The cavalry are
engaged. 372
CHAPTER XXII.
Sketch of the battle of Waterloo, but more particularly of the
operations of Sir Thomas Picton’s division. Death of Sir Thomas
Picton. The 27th regiment. Advance of the Prussians. General
attack on the French position, and their total defeat and route.
The morning after the battle. 383
CHAPTER XXIII.
March to Paris. Cambray is taken by escalade. Letters from
Highlanders to their friends in the North. Half a dozen lines
only relative to Paris. Another half dozen as to the three years
spent by the army of occupation in the north of France. On the
distribution of medals. The army evacuates France, and is
dispersed all over the globe. Reflections on this breaking up of
old friends and comrades. A campaign amongst the Glasgow
radicals. Proceed to Ireland. Guarding jails, hunting stills and
White Boys. A few words at parting with my military friends. 396
ROUGH SKETCHES
OF THE
LIFE OF AN OLD SOLDIER.
------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
Join my regiment in Jersey. Embark for England. Winter at Chatham. The
52d regiment made Light Infantry. New system of drill introduced.
Encamp at Shorncliffe in Kent. French camp and flotilla at Boulogne.
Invasion threatened and precautions taken by Sir John Moore. The
Duke of York reviews the troops at Shorncliffe. Sudden order for our
regiment to embark for the West Indies. Unfortunate occurrence on
the march from Shorncliffe to Portsmouth. Remarks thereon. Embark
and sail for Barbadoes. Tremendous storm. Various occurrences on the
voyage. Arrive at Barbadoes. First impressions as to climate, &c.
Death of the Commander-in-Chief of the West Indies. We proceed to
Antigua. The harbour and dock-yard. Disembark at midnight. Lose my
baggage. Scarcity of fresh water in Antigua. The regiment suffers
dreadfully from yellow fever. Its losses. Hurricane. Officers’
funerals. The military governor and his brigade-major die. A receipt
for yellow fever. Dancing and other gaieties. Death of Sir William
Myers, the new Commander-in-Chief in the West Indies. Terrible
mortality in his family. Death of the new Governor of Antigua. Great
mortality in the 96th regiment in Antigua. A French squadron.
Dominica is attacked. The French are repulsed by the 46th regiment.
We expect a visit from the same squadron at Antigua. Preparations
for its reception. We are reinforced. Long marches. Sudden death of
several soldiers from excessive heat. The 68th regiment is sent to
Antigua. Its immense losses by climate. Horse-races and balls at St.
John’s. More funerals. Lord Nelson arrives in search of the French
and Spanish squadrons. He returns to Europe. My health begins to
suffer. A medical board orders me to Europe for its restoration. My
own ideas as to _slavery_. Take my passage for Europe. Sail to
Tortola. Large homeward-bound fleet. Dreadful gales, and other
mishaps on the voyage home. Anchor in Dublin Bay. Quarantine. Land
at Dublin. Proceed to England.
The same year in which the British army gained never-fading laurels in
Egypt, I obtained a commission in the 70th regiment, and shortly after
seeing my name in the Gazette, was ordered to join in the island of
Jersey. I felt that delight which I fancy is experienced by most
youngsters, on making an escape from school, putting on a scarlet coat,
epaulet, cocked hat, and a tremendously long feather, to say nothing of
the false queue affixed to a head of hair plastered with pomatum and
well powdered (the custom of those days), together with sundry et
ceteras too well known to military men to need a further detail.
The regiment had recently returned from service in the colonies; the
officers in general were very young; and the soldiers, with the
exception of a small number of old hands, were recruits, and on the
whole a very fine body of men.
Jersey is rather better known than either the interior of Africa, or New
Holland. A description of it would, therefore, be superfluous. During
the eleven months which I spent in it, I made a tour round the island
with some of my brother-officers, and we had every reason to be
satisfied with our excursion. The roads, at the time I mention, scarcely
deserved that name; but I understand that very excellent ones have been
since made, in various directions.
Towards the end of October, 1802, the 3d regiment, or Buffs, arrived
from England to relieve us, and we sailed in ships of war to Deal, where
we disembarked, and marched to Dover Castle, in which we remained three
weeks, and from thence proceeded to Chatham. The garrison consisted of
my own regiment, the Royal Staff corps, and the first and second
battalions of the 52d regiment. Sir John Moore commanded here.
To the winter which we passed in Chatham, with little to vary the scene
except dock-yard guards, main guards, and sundry other guards, on which
I constantly found myself posted, I do not look back with any
particularly pleasurable recollections.
In the early part of the spring of 1803, Sir John Moore picked and
culled the finest and most effective men of the two battalions of the
52d regiment, the first of which Lieutenant-Colonel Kenneth M’Kenzie was
appointed to command, and to organise as Light Infantry. The second
battalion was then gazetted as the 96th regiment, and almost immediately
afterwards sent to Ireland, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel
Conran.
The new system of drill which Lieutenant Colonel M’Kenzie introduced at
this period, and which has been adopted by other light infantry
regiments, it will scarcely be denied by the most prejudiced persons,
has been attended with the most complete success. I allude to the ease
and correctness with which the regiments drilled according to that
system marched and manœuvred ever after.
In the month of June, 1803, we found ourselves encamped on the heights
of Shorncliffe, in Kent, under Sir John Moore’s command, the following
regiments composing the brigade: the 4th or King’s Own, the 52d Light
Infantry, the 59th, the 70th, and five companies of the 95th Rifle
Corps, with two pieces of light artillery. Every one knows, or ought to
know, that at this time Bonaparte threatened our shores with a visit
from his numerous army and flotilla, which were in and about Boulogne.
We had no difficulty in seeing the immense mass of white tents on the
French coast, when the day happened to be clear. Whether Sir John Moore
entertained the same apprehension of invasion which the majority of the
nation did, it is not for me to decide; but certain it is that every
precaution was taken at night, by patrolling constantly along the beach
until morning,—and by having the quarter and rear guards under arms one
hour before day-break, and remaining so until we could clearly ascertain
that our French neighbours had not ventured on the high seas with their
flotilla. We were constantly practised to strike and pack our tents at
the shortest notice, and occasionally to load the bât horses with them,
and to make every preparation for a march. Thus passed the summer and
autumn. The Duke of York reviewed the brigade on the heights of
Shorncliffe in the course of the summer.
Towards the end of October, a sudden, and, on our part, unexpected order
arrived for our regiment to march immediately to Portsmouth, to embark
for the West Indies. This intelligence caused some long faces among a
few of our old hands who had previously served in that part of the
world; but the greater part of us being young and thoughtless, the order
for moving, being a novelty, was received with pleasure rather than
dislike.
We reached Portsmouth early in November, but not without an occurrence
having taken place on the march thither, which I have never forgotten.
We halted one night at Battle, in Sussex. Some time after midnight, the
officers were called out of their beds in consequence of an affray
between some of our soldiers and a party of artillerymen; but before we
could reach the small public-house in which the disturbance had arisen,
most unfortunately two artillerymen were shot by our people, and another
was bayoneted in the body. A corporal and two soldiers, who had
committed this act, were left in the hands of the civil power. They were
subsequently tried and acquitted; it having been proved that they used
their muskets and bayonets in defence of their lives, which must have
been sacrificed had they not done so, as the artillerymen, in great
numbers, attacked them with bludgeons, and had already broken open the
door of the public-house in which they were billeted. The three men in
question joined us in the West Indies twelve months after. Some dispute
as to the respective merits or demerits of certain regiments, led to
this unhappy affair. A more dangerous subject cannot possibly be
agitated by any military men, from the drum-boy to the commandant of a
regiment. No man is worthy to wear the uniform of his corps, be that
corps what it may, who is not as tenacious of its good name as of his
own individual character, and as ready to stand forward in its defence.
Early in November we embarked at Portsmouth in the Pandour (an old
Dutch-built tub of a 44, armed _en flute_, and fitted up as a troop
ship) and in the Comet transport. The Alexander transport also sailed
under our convoy, taking out detachments for different regiments in the
West Indies. A few days after our departure from Portsmouth, we
encountered, in the skirts of the Bay of Biscay, a most tremendous gale,
which lasted without intermission three days and nights, during the
greater part of which the helm was lashed down; every stitch of canvass
which we attempted to carry was torn to atoms in an instant—the pumps
were choked—several feet of water were in the hold—and we had an
accumulation of other nautical grievances and disasters, so numerous as
to baffle a landsman’s description of them. On the morning of the fourth
day the gale abated considerably, and land was discovered; but, as no
observation had been taken for several days, it seemed a matter of doubt
what land it was. It proved to be the Start, or the Bolt, or one of the
other iron-bound headlands eastward of Plymouth. The wind having come
fair, we stood on again for the West Indies, although our commodore had
it in contemplation, at one time, to put into Plymouth, and repair the
damages sustained in the late gale.
Who does not know, that on reaching certain latitudes, one falls in with
sharks, dolphins, flying fish, and various other kinds both of fish and
birds, not found in the colder regions? I used to sit hour after hour
endeavouring to harpoon the dolphins and other large fish, but generally
with indifferent success. Somewhere between Madeira and Barbadoes we
caught a large shark, to the infinite delight of myself and the other
youngsters who had never previously navigated those seas. The operation
of ducking, shaving, &c. &c., so scrupulously observed by the sailors in
passing the tropical line, we avoided, by a liberal donation of rum to
the sea-god.
In the course of the voyage, the old Pandour chased, brought to, and
examined several vessels, all which proved to be Portuguese. One of them
was a large and beautiful ship, bound from Lisbon to the Brazils, which,
on first discovering her, was pronounced by our naval men to be a
frigate. Our ship was cleared for action; the grenadier company was
posted on the forecastle, and the light company on the poop; the
remaining companies were ordered below, until they should be called up
to board our supposed antagonist; but, after a chase of many hours, she
turned out to be a neutral, and all our golden dreams of prize-money
vanished in an instant.
Once fairly in the trade winds, we glided smoothly along day after day,
at six, seven, and eight knots an hour; nor did any thing occur worthy
of notice until two or three days before arriving at Barbadoes, when a
suspicious-looking, schooner-rigged vessel was discovered far to
windward, on which our little convoy closed, by signal, to the
commodore. The schooner followed many hours in the wake of the Pandour,
but with a certain degree of caution. We had been running the whole day
directly before the wind, and our commodore, getting tired, at last, of
having this wasp of a vessel hovering about him, without being able to
shake her off, or to put his paw on her, suddenly hauled the Pandour to
the wind, as near as she could lay, which manœuvre the schooner
performed as rapidly as ourselves, flew away into the wind’s eye, soon
distanced us, and put all chance of coming up with her out of the bounds
of possibility, unless we might, by some good chance, injure her masts
or rigging by our fire, which we kept up as long as any chance remained
of its being effectual; but, as she outsailed us, we soon gave up the
chase, and stood on our original course. All this was quite new, and
very interesting to the fresh-water sailors on board.
After a six weeks’ voyage from Portsmouth, we anchored on Christmas-day
in Carlisle Bay, Barbadoes. The sky was cloudless, and the heat
sufficiently intense to satisfy a salamander. We could scarcely, at
first, be reconciled to the idea of its being Christmas, with such a
blazing sun over our heads; every tree and plant seen on the island
being as green as we have them in England at Midsummer; and, above all,
the total absence of snow, frost, and the dark and lowering clouds
emblematic of that season in Europe. The Commander-in-Chief of the
Windward and Leeward Islands, General Greenfield, died whilst we were on
our passage out.
During the few days which we passed at anchor in Carlisle Bay, parties
of our officers went ashore at Bridgetown, where we were hospitably
entertained at the mess of the 64th regiment. Between the noise of
lizards, musquitoes, and other tormenting devils, which sing and bite
throughout the night, and unite all their efforts to destroy one’s
slumbers, I got but a small allowance of sleep, in spite of the liberal
potation of old Madeira imbibed at the 64th mess. I may here remark,
that during the whole of my stay in the West Indies, I suffered less
than the generality of my brother-officers from the bites of musquitoes,
although their eternal singing has tired my patience many a night.
Every thing which met the eye on our landing was, of course, quite new,
and, for a time, interesting to the _Johnny Newcombes_ of the regiment;
but the novelty soon wore off, and I cannot say that any thing I saw,
with the exception of the fine, bold, and striking scenery which many of
the West India Islands present in passing them at sea, (or, in the
nautical phrase, running down the islands), excited much interest in my
mind. The 87th regiment, which was stationed at St. Kitt’s, was ordered
home on our arrival.
We sailed from Barbadoes about the 28th or 29th of December, and on the
evening of the 31st anchored in English Harbour, in the island of
Antigua. Entering this harbour from the ocean, by an extremely narrow
and rocky passage, the effect is quite magical, as you instantaneously
find your ship in a calm and well-sheltered basin, surrounded by high,
rocky hills, studded in various parts with the houses and wigwams of the
blacks and coloured people. The king’s dock-yard is at the inner
extremity of the basin. Soon after midnight we commenced disembarking in
the dock-yard, from whence we marched to the Ridge and Shirly Heights
Barracks, which we reached soon after day-break on the 1st of January,
1804. We relieved a detachment of the 64th regiment, which embarked a
few days afterwards for Barbadoes. By the negligence of the guard left
in charge of the baggage at the dock-yard, or by some other mishap, I
lost every article of my baggage except one portmanteau. Few subalterns
possessed a better kit than that which I lost on this occasion; but I
never could gain any intelligence of it, nor was any remuneration
allowed me to replace it. This was an inauspicious commencement in such
a climate, where an abundance of linen and wearing apparel is so
desirable.
It is singular that in the island of Antigua there is not one spring of
fresh water. Consequently the inhabitants are dependent for their supply
of this necessary article on the rains, which fall at certain periods in
torrents, and are caught in tanks, with which the barracks, as well as
the generality of the better class of houses, are provided. From January
until June 1804, scarcely a drop of rain fell; so that for many weeks we
were on an extremely small allowance of water. Even this would have been
still more limited, had not several sloops been constantly employed,
during this drought, in bringing barrels of water from the neighbouring
island of Montserrat, and thereby replenishing the tanks. Although the
members of the corps to which I had the honour to belong, were by no
means addicted to the use of water as a beverage, we nevertheless
suffered severely from its scarcity.
During the first five months after our arrival, the regiment continued
comparatively healthy; but in the month of June we were suddenly visited
with an attack of yellow fever, that eternal curse and scourge of
Europeans, which in a few days filled the hospitals to such an excess as
has, perhaps, never been exceeded in any regiment, and but rarely
equalled. Between the months of June and October we buried two-thirds of
the officers who came out with the regiment from England, six of whom
were captains. The ravages occasioned by this infernal pestilence
amongst the soldiers, their wives, and children, bore a full proportion
to that of the officers; nor did there appear any symptom of the fever
subsiding, until the islands were visited, in the month of October, by
one of the most violent hurricanes which had been experienced for many
years. Intermitting fevers and agues now took the place of the yellow
fever, which seemed to have nearly expended its fury. In short, by the
end of 1804, the regiment was a perfect skeleton, and could with great
difficulty furnish men to perform the regimental duties.
We buried also, at this period, the military governor, General Dunlop,
and his brigade-major, Captain Vans, both of whom came out with us from
England in the Pandour. The deaths were so frequent, that General Dunlop
directed the procession and forms usually observed at military funerals
to be discontinued, and that the coffins of officers deceased should be
carried to the grave on the shoulders of the soldiers, without band or
drums, and without a party to fire over them. This I have ever thought a
most prudent order; for what can so much tend to depress the spirits as
the constant recurrence of that imposing ceremony. The general expressed
a wish that, in the event of his own death, he should be buried
precisely in a similar manner. This order was obeyed to the letter; and
both he and his brigade-major, who died within a few days of each other,
were taken to their graves in a light waggon, attended by the few of our
officers and soldiers who were able to do duty, and by a small party of
artillerymen.
As a proof that this dreadful fever visits Europeans newly arrived with
tenfold virulence, the three companies of the 37th regiment, in garrison
with us at this time, had not more than two or three men in hospital,
whilst our men were dying at the rate of eight and ten daily. The 37th
had been several years in Trinidad and other islands, and were seasoned
to the climate. In 1805, the survivors amongst us were, in some measure,
seasoned, and the deaths consequently were not so frequent.
For the benefit and edification of the faculty, I must commit to paper
the following fact, for the accuracy of which I pledge myself, although
I fear there are but few living witnesses to bear me out in my
assertion.
At the time when almost every officer was on the sick-list, and the
fever raged with the utmost fury, I felt every symptom which I had heard
described by so many of my friends who had been attacked, and had fallen
victims to the disorder. Violent pains, flushed face, my eyes burning as
if ready to start from their sockets, excessive languor and thirst, made
me think it more than probable that my turn had at length arrived to be
carried to the little town of Falmouth, and my bones to be deposited in
the churchyard. This attack, which took place in the evening, was
extremely sudden, for I was in rude health two hours before. I instantly
went to bed without consulting any one, ordered my servant to bring me a
jug of boiling Madeira, which I swallowed, and soon fell into a sound
sleep; from which I did not awake until six or seven hours afterwards.
The fever had entirely left me, but I was so debilitated as not to
recover from its short attack in less than ten days or a fortnight. I
must endeavour to throw a light on this case of mine, by explaining to
my medical friends, that I attribute the preservation of my life to the
boiling Madeira, inasmuch as it produced a most violent perspiration,
which, with my youth and a strong constitution, proved an overmatch for
the fever, and rescued me from its grasp. It was a kill or cure
business, and worthy only of a wild youth, who, in after-years, has
often looked back with astonishment at his folly, and at the success
which attended his mad-brained remedy. If a constant exposure to the sun
in shooting, boating, riding, &c. &c., contrary to the repeated advice
of old and experienced West Indians, were causes likely to produce
effects fatal to a newly-arrived European, I most certainly did deserve
to suffer.
West Indians are proverbially fond of dancing, and are not satisfied
either with a moderate allowance of it. Often have we retired at
day-break from private dances, bathed, and dressed for parade, without
attempting to procure a moment’s sleep until the following night. Such
frolics as these, aided by liberal potations of sangaree, cold punch,
and other fluids, throughout the evening, cannot long be played off with
impunity, even in climates less destructive than the one in question.
Sir William Myers, the Commander-in-chief of the Windward and Leeward
Islands, came out to take the command whilst I was in the country; and
out of fifteen or sixteen members of his family, including servants, who
accompanied him from England, eleven, besides himself, died at Barbadoes
in an incredibly short space of time. Brigadier-general Vandeleur, who
came out from Ireland in 1804, and was appointed to command the troops
in the Island of Antigua after General Dunlop’s death, survived but a
few months. The mortality in the 96th regiment, which arrived at Antigua
from Ireland in 1805, was quite dreadful; and perhaps but little less so
than that of our own corps the preceding year. Antigua was at this
period, indeed, almost a certain grave for newly arrived Europeans. Bad
as it still is, however, it cannot be doubted that the troops stationed
there of late years have suffered in a comparatively trifling degree.
About this period a French squadron appeared in those seas with some
thousand troops on board. They disembarked in considerable force at
Dominica; but the Governor, General Prevost, repulsed them in various
engagements, and finally compelled them to re-embark with loss, and to
return to Guadaloupe or Martinique. The conduct of the 46th regiment
throughout the whole business was particularly gallant.
At Antigua we were for some time afterwards in expectation of a visit
from the French squadron, and every preparation was made for its
reception which our slender means afforded. We were reinforced by the
flank companies of the 11th regiment, from some of the neighbouring
islands: we made several long marches and counter-marches, from one part
of the island to another, in consequence of various false alarms; but
the enemy never landed. Five of our soldiers died on the road from _coup
de soleil_, during one very long march in the heat of the day. Their
deaths were almost instantaneous. My servant, a young, active, and
healthy man, was one of those who died in this manner.
The 68th regiment was sent to Antigua in 1805, with its ranks sadly
reduced by the climate. It had arrived in the West Indies about five
years before, with two battalions, each 1200 strong; and I have
understood from their officers, that they had buried in those five years
2400 men and sixty-eight officers. The regiment had, of course, received
repeated drafts of men from England during that period.
Towards the end of October 1804, the air being somewhat cooled by the
rains which fell during the hurricane, several days were devoted to
horse-racing, in the vicinity of St. John’s, the principal town of
Antigua. The course is circular, and not bad. A little thorough-bred
chestnut English horse won every thing, and found no difficulty in
beating all the American and Creole horses which started against him.
The amusements of the day were followed by balls at night, which were
kept up until day-break each morning. Two officers of our regiment died
in consequence of having partaken too freely of the gaieties of the race
week. They were remarkably fine-looking men, and both grenadiers. One of
them was a most intimate friend of mine, and I have ever regretted his
loss.
In June or July 1805, Lord Nelson arrived in the West Indies, in pursuit
of the combined French and Spanish squadrons, and remained for some
hours off the island of Antigua. That he instantly returned to Europe,
not having found the object of his search in those seas, is well known;
as is also the terrible example which he made of the combined fleets a
few months afterwards off Trafalgar.
The effects of constant exposure to the sun, with other peccadilloes not
warrantable in a climate such as this, having begun to shew themselves
on me in the shape of a slow and debilitating fever, a medical board,
which assembled to consider my case, decreed that an immediate removal
to Europe was the only chance of my health being re-established.
Before I bid adieu to the spot where so many of my earliest and
much-valued military friends and companions were taken prematurely to
their long homes, I must say a word or two on the idea which I formed of
the system of slavery. I am well aware that different persons look at
this question in different points of view; but I am willing,
nevertheless, to believe, that the numbers in England who view it with
the same degree of indignation, horror, and disgust, which I ever have
done, preponderate beyond all comparison; and that the time is not far
distant, when the voices of those will be silenced who are not ashamed
to declare, that an unfortunate negro, writhing under the lash of the
merciless slave-driver, for laying aside his spade for a few minutes in
the heat of a tropical sun, or for some offence equally trivial, is
infinitely better off, decidedly more happy, and in a more enviable
situation, than the labouring peasant in the mother country. Facts are
stubborn things; and although many years have rolled over my head since
I left the West Indies, I have not yet forgotten what the system of
slavery was in 1803, 1804, and 1805. The first exhibition of the kind
which met my eye a few days after landing in Antigua, was a huge
slave-driver flogging most unmercifully an old decrepit female negro,
who appeared bowed down with misery and hard labour. I know not what her
offence was, but she was one of a gang, as they are termed, of negroes
of different sexes and ages, working with spades under a mid-day
tropical sun. A brother-officer, who was with me on a shooting
excursion, felt as astonished and indignant at this unnatural and
inhuman proceeding as myself; and our first impulse was to threaten to
shoot the driver if he did not desist. I am not ashamed to say, that,
after drawing off to such a distance that our small shot could not
seriously injure the vagabond, we peppered his legs pretty handsomely.
That we should have adopted so summary a mode of punishment, had we
lived twice as long in the world, I will not say; but my conscience has
never reproached me for the steps which we took to shew our
disapprobation of the diabolical act. I adduce this as only one of the
numerous instances of flogging which I had ocular demonstration of. I
have too often witnessed the application of the lash to old and young,
male and female, and have too frequently heard their cries and
lamentations, ever to forget it:—nor shall I ever cease to hold in utter
detestation and abhorrence this infernal system. I have several times
been on board vessels laden with slaves from the coast of Guinea; and I
have no hesitation in saying, that the most highly coloured description
of this vile traffic ever given, falls short of the reality of the
sufferings of those cargoes of ill-fated human beings. Emancipation of
the negroes must necessarily be gradual; but I am one of those who hope
most sincerely that it will in due time be effected.
Having taken my passage with two officers of the 18th and 96th
regiments, in a merchantman, bound to Dublin, I bade adieu to Antigua,
and sailed under convoy of the Netley schooner to Tortola, the grand
rendezvous of the homeward-bound fleet, which amounted to 260 sail. Here
we remained at anchor two or three days, and then took our final
departure for Europe, under a strong convoy of ships of war. It was a
magnificent sight, when the whole of this immense fleet weighed and
stood out of the harbour. In consequence of adverse winds, constant
gales, and so forth, our passage home occupied thirteen weeks, which was
more than double the time we were in making the passage out from
Portsmouth to Barbadoes in 1803. This unusually long and tedious voyage,
in a dirty old sugar-ship, during the last five weeks of which we were
on an extremely short allowance of fresh water and provisions, was
unmarked by any occurrence worthy of notice, except that, somewhere
about the latitude of the Western Islands, we encountered a terrible
storm, which lasted two days, during which seven vessels of the fleet
foundered, and three individuals only of all their crews were saved, who
were picked up by the Ramillies, 74, clinging to a piece of a wreck. One
note more on the disasters of our tedious voyage, and I have done with
the subject.
In the month of September, about two hours after midnight, it blowing
very fresh, we were almost thrown out of our berths by a sudden shock,
as if the ship had struck on a rock. In an instant we bolted on deck,
where all was dismay and confusion. A vessel, considerably larger than
our own, had run aboard us, and the two ships were hanging together by
the yards and rigging, as if they had been lashed for the purpose of
boarding; nor did any chance appear of their being extricated. Every
swell of the sea caused the ships to thump against each other, and to
give such frightful shocks, as can only be fully understood by those who
have been in a similar situation. I confess, that when I saw the master
of our ship, who was a Catholic, on his knees crossing himself and
giving up all for lost, instead of stimulating his crew, as his mate
fortunately did, to make some efforts to cut away parts of the yards and
rigging, in order to disengage us from our unwelcome neighbour, I
thought I might just as well have left my bones in Antigua, as become a
prey to sharks. Thanks to our mate and the exertions of our little crew,
the vessels at length got clear of each other. We sustained serious
injury in the rigging, yards, &c., and had our jib-boom carried away. In
addition to these disasters, a leak was sprung, which kept our pumps
constantly going during the remainder of the voyage; and every one on
board, passengers and all, was obliged to take his turn. One of the
frigates seeing our signal of distress flying at day-break, sent an
officer, with a party of men and some carpenters, to repair our damages,
who remained with us two days.
In the winter of 1805 we anchored in Dublin Bay, the beauties of which
are universally known and acknowledged, and have been a thousand times
described by far abler pens than mine. Had we not been doomed to perform
quarantine in this magnificent bay for many days, I believe my
retrospective view of it would have been infinitely more pleasing. To us
landsmen, after a three months’ voyage, wishing the yellow flag at the
devil, and looking wistfully at the shore without being permitted to
land, it was no small delight to be informed, after six or seven days’
penance thus performed, that we were at liberty to go ashore.
I spent several days very pleasantly at Dublin, with the two officers
who came home with me from Antigua. One of them returned to the West
Indies the following year, and fell a victim to the climate; the other
was promoted into the 45th regiment, and died in Portugal some years
afterwards.
I embarked in the packet, and reached Holyhead after a stormy passage of
thirty-six hours, and proceeded to my home, from which I had been absent
four years.