January, 1812. We were in advance, covering the operations against
Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos. We had a most fatiguing spring, marching and
counter-marching between Merida and Almandralajo. We were first marched
to Merida, but Dombrossky fled with the utmost precipitation. We then
marched against Drouet, who was at Almandralajo; but he likewise set off
for Zafra, leaving his stores and ammunition to us--a welcome gift. The
weather was so wet, the very shoes were soaked off our feet; and many
were the contrivances we fell upon to keep them on.
Almandralajo is a low swampy place, the worst town I ever was in in
Spain: our men called it Almandralajo Craco, (cursed.) Seldom a day
passed but we had a skirmish with the enemy at Merida or Almandralajo.
In the month of March we got the route for Albuera, where we formed our
lines, and were working at the batteries day and night. An alarm was
given three different times, and we were marched on to the position; but
nothing occurred, and we fell back. When I first came upon the spot
where the battle of Albuera had been fought, I felt very sad; the whole
ground was still covered with the wrecks of an army, bonnets,
cartridge-boxes, pieces of belts, old clothes, and shoes; the ground in
numerous ridges, under which lay many a heap of mouldering bones. It was
a melancholy sight; it made us all very dull for a short time.
The whole army receiving orders to advance, we moved in solid columns,
cavalry on right and left. The enemy fell back as we advanced. Our
brigade was marched up a hill, where we had a beautiful view of the
armies, threatening each other like two thunder clouds charged with
death. Shortly after we were marched into the valley, the enemy fired
two or three round shot at us, which did no harm. We were encamped till
next day at noon, when we set off, pursuing them for two days, and were
then marched back to Almandralajo Craco, where we lay till the beginning
of April.
Next we advanced to cover the operations against Badajos, which
surrendered on the 6th, the day of our arrival. Next morning the band
played _The Downfall of Paris_. We remained until May, when we were
marched to Almaraz, where the French had two forts which intercepted our
supplies, as they commanded the bridge over the Tagus. Our brigade,
consisting of the 50th, 71st, and 92d Regiments, set off and marched all
day until noon. On the second day our officers got orders that every
person in the village of Almaraz should be put to death, there being
none but those belonging to the enemy in it. We marched all night until
break of day next morning, when we halted on a height opposite the large
fort, just as they fired their morning gun. As the day broke up, they
got sight of our arrival, and gave us a shell or two, which did us no
harm. We were moved down the hill out of their view. Then we were
marched to the height again, where we stood under arms for a short time,
until we were ordered to pile arms and take off our packs. We remained
thus until twelve o’clock, when we got half an allowance of liquor: oxen
were brought up and killed on the spot;, each man received two pounds of
beef in lieu of bread. We got this for three days.
On the evening of the third day, General Hill ordered our left companies
to move down to the Valley, to cover his recognisance. When he returned,
the officers were called. A scaling-ladder was given to each section of
a company of the left wing, with the exception of two companies. We
moved down the hill in a dismal manner; it was so dark we could not see
three yards before us. The hill was very steep, and we were forced to
wade through whins and scramble down rocks, still carrying the ladders.
When day-light, on the morning of the 19th, at length showed us to each
other, we were scattered all over the foot of the hill like strayed
sheep, not more in one place than were held together by a ladder. We
halted, formed, and collected the ladders, then moved on. We had a
hollow to pass through to get at the battery. The French had cut a part
of the brae-face away, and had a gun that swept right through into the
hollow. We made a rush past it, to get under the brae on the other side.
The French were busy cooking, and preparing to support the other fort,
thinking we would attack it first, as we had lain next it. On our
approach the French sentinel fired and retired. We halted, fixed
bayonets, and moved on in double quick time: we did not receive above
four shot from the battery until we were under the works, and had the
ladders placed to the walls. Their entrenchment proved deeper than we
expected, which caused us to splice our ladders under the wall, during
which time they annoyed us much by throwing grenades, stones, and logs
over it; but not a Frenchman durst be seen on the top, for we stood with
our pieces cocked and presented. As soon as the ladders were spliced, we
forced them from the works, and out of the town, at the point of the
bayonet, down the hill and over the bridge. They were in such haste they
cut the bridge before all their men had got over, and numbers were
either drowned or taken prisoners. One of our men had the honour to be
the first to mount the works. Fort Napoleon fired two or three shot into
Fort Almaraz. We took the hint from this circumstance, and turned the
guns of Almaraz on Fort Napoleon, and forced the enemy to leave it. It
being a bridge of boats, two companies were sent, with brooms, to burn
and cut it away: but the enemy being in superior force upon the other
side, compelled them to retire under cover until reinforced. We moved
forward to the village of Almaraz, and found plenty of provisions, which
had been very scarce with us for some days. We filled our haversacks,
and burned the town; then encamped close by it all night; and marched
next morning, leaving a company of sappers and miners to blow up the
works. We marched back to our old quarters, and continued marching up
and down watching the motions of the enemy.
On the night of the 22d July, when we were in a wood, we received the
joyful news of the defeat of Marmont at Salamanca, and got a double
allowance of liquor. Colonel Cadogan took the end of a horn, called a _a
tot_, and drank, “Success to the British arms.” Some of us had money,
and sent to the village for liquor. We made a little treat in the best
manner we could, and passed a joyful night.
We advanced to Aranjuez, where we lay for some time. It is a palace of
the King of Spain. The whole country is beautiful; fruit was very plenty
and of all kinds. We were eight days in the Escurial, and continued to
watch the motions of the French alongst the Tagus, skirmishing almost
every day. Individuals of the 13th and 14th Light Dragoons used to
engage in single combat with the horsemen of the enemy. Often whole
squadrons would be brought to engage by two men beginning. We remained
thus skirmishing till Lord Wellington raised the siege of Burgos, when
we fell back to the Iacamah on the beginning of November, then on Alba
Tormes, where we skirmished two days and two nights. A part of us here
were lining a wall, the French in great strength in front. One of our
lads let his hat fall over when taking cartridges from it, laid his
musket against the wall, went over to the enemy’s side, and came back
again unhurt. At this very time the button of my stock was shot off.
The short time we remained at Tormes we were very ill off for
provisions. One of our men, Thomas Cadwell, found a piece of meat near
the hospital on the face of the brae: he brought it home and cooked it.
A good part of it was eaten before one of the men, perceiving him, said,
“What is that you are eating?” Tom said it was meat he had found. The
others looked and knew it to be the fore arm of a man; the hand was not
at it--it was only the part from a little below the elbow and above the
wrist. The man threw it away, but never looked squeamish; he said it was
very sweet, and was never a bit the worse.
The French left strong picquets in front, stole down the river, and
crossed, hoping to surprise us and come upon our rear. We immediately
blew up the bridge and retired. Many of our men had to ford the river.
We left a Spanish garrison in the fort and retired to the heights. There
was a mill on the river side near the bridge, wherein a number of our
men were helping themselves to flour during the time the others were
fording. Our Colonel rode down and forced them out, throwing a handful
of flour on each man as he passed out of the mill. When we were drawn up
on the height, he rode along the column, looking for the millers, as we
called them. At this moment a hen put her head out of his coat-pocket,
and looked first to one side and then to another. We began to laugh; we
could not restrain ourselves. He looked amazed and furious at us, then
around. At length the Major rode up to him, and requested him to kill
the fowl outright, and put it into his pocket. The Colonel, in his turn,
laughed, called his servant, and the millers were no more looked after.
We moved along the heights for two or three miles towards the main body
of the army, and lay down in column for a few minutes, until Lord
Wellington came up and reconnoitred the movements of the enemy, when we
immediately got orders to follow the line of march. We continued to
follow for some time, until we came to a place covered over with old
ammunition barrels and the wrecks of an army. This was the ground the
battle of Salamanca had been fought on. We got not a moment to reflect.
The word was given, “Fix bayonets, throw off all lumber;” and we were
moved up the hill at double quick time. We pushed up as hard as
possible, reached the top almost out of breath, and met the enemy right
in front. They were not twenty paces from us. We gave them a volley. Two
companies of the German Legion were sent to keep them in play whilst the
lines were forming. Two brigades came up at double quick time. We formed
in three lines, and forced them to retire. They lost in their flight a
great number of men by the fire of our cannon. After dark we withdrew
our lines and encamped in a wood. We were in great want of necessaries,
having very little bread or beef amongst us, and no water. I set off in
quest of some, slung round with canteens belonging to the mess. After
searching about for a long time, faint and weary, I was going to give up
in despair, and sat down to reflect what I should do. Numbers were
moving around looking anxiously for water of any kind--quality was of no
moment. I thought I heard a bustle on my right. I leaped up, ran towards
it; I heard voices and the croaking of frogs. Tempting sound! I stopped
not to reflect. As I drew near, the sound became more distinct; I heard
the welcome words, “Water, water.” In I ran, up to the knees amongst
mules and men, and putting down my head, drank a sweet draught of it,
dirty as it was; then filled my canteens and came off quite happy. The
croaking of the frogs was pleasanter music at that time and more welcome
than any other sound. When I came to the camp ground I was welcomed
with joy. We got our allowance of liquor, and mixed it with the water,
then lay down and slept till an hour before day, when we moved on to our
old position on the hills. The French lay in column close by Salamanca.
We remained there till Lord Wellington perceived the French were
endeavouring to get into our rear, to cut off our communications, they
being very superior in force. The army received orders to draw up in
column and move off in brigades, each brigade in succession; leaving the
71st for the rear guard. I, at this time, got a post, being for fatigue,
with other four. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord
Wellington’s hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the
time, as we got our own fill while we broke the biscuit, a thing I had
not got for some days. When thus engaged, the prodigal son never once
was out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the dogs, over my humble
situation and ruined hopes. As we followed the army, Colonel Cadogan
made us halt in a plain upon ploughed land, where he began to drill us.
We were wet and weary, and like to faint with hunger. The ground was so
soft from the rain, we could scarce keep the step. The French were
coming down from the heights. “Now,” says he, “there they are; if you
are not quicker in your movements, I will leave you every one to them.”
At this moment General Hill’s aid-de-camp rode up, saying, “Move on and
cover the brigade of artillery, by the General’s order, or you will be
all prisoners in five minutes.” We immediately left off drill, and
marched on until dark, under a heavy rain and over miserable roads, one
shoe in our hand, the other on our knapsack. As we entered a wood we
were agreeably annoyed by the grunting of hogs and squeaking of pigs.
“There is a town here,” says my comrade. We all longed for “pile arms.”
At length the word was given, and cooks ordered to cut wood. More cooks
than one turned out of each mess, and went in different directions in
search of forage. All this time the whole wood resounded with the
reports of muskets. It resembled a wood contested by the enemy. At
length our cooks returned, one with a pig, another with a skin of wine,
or with flour, and we made a hearty supper, and lay down happy and
contented. Next morning we continued the line of march under a heavy
rain; the horses were scarce able to drag the cannon through the mud. We
marched thus, about eight miles, and halted at a village, where we
encamped and cooked the remains of our pork. Every one was engaged
cooking or cutting wood, when the French made their appearance on the
opposite heights. The bugle sounded to fall in; immediately we formed
square to receive cavalry. They galloped down close to our square. We
had not time to load our pieces; and many of us were only half
accoutred, they had come so quick upon us. Many of them were very much
in liquor: three or four galloped into the centre of our square; we
opened to receive them. A brigade of guns coming to our relief, they put
to the right about and fled. We stood under arms for some time. A
brigade of French infantry was drawn up on the opposite heights. It
being only their advanced guard, Lord Wellington gave orders to pile
arms, but to remain accoutred. We stood in this position, the rain
pouring upon us, until we were forced to lie down through fatigue. Day
at length appearing, we got orders to move on after the army in
sections, the enemy having retired through the night. We had not moved
thus two miles, until the French advance came down upon us, picking up
every individual who fell out. The cries of the women and children were
dreadful as we left them. We were retiring in square, playing a howitzer
from the centre, to keep their cavalry in check. We continued to move on
in this manner, sending out the left company to fire and retire. The
rain poured; the roads were knee-deep; when one had to stop all were
obliged to stop. Each of the enemy’s cavalry had a foot soldier behind
him, who formed when they came close. When we were halted, and advanced
to charge, they mounted and retired. At length we forded the Agueda, and
encamped on the opposite side. Rear-guards and quarter-guards were
immediately sent out, and picquets planted. We were not an hour and a
half encamped, when a dreadful firing commenced on our left. We were all
under arms in a moment. The firing continued very severe for the space
of two hours. We then piled arms, and began to cut wood to lay under us,
that the water might run below, as the rain continued to pour in
torrents. We might as well have lain in the river. We were up an hour
before day, and wrung out our blankets, emptied our shoes of the water,
each man trembling like the leaf of a tree. We followed the line of
march for about four leagues, and encamped in a plain, expecting to be
attacked every moment. The French did not advance this night. Next
night we were marched into a town. Serjeants were called out for
quarters; and we were put in by sections into the best quarters they
could find. This town we called the _reeky_ town; it was the most smoky
place I ever was in. The serjeants got two months’ pay for each man;
every one had a little. Canteens were immediately in requisition; wine
and _accadent_ were the only words you could hear. Three dollars for
wine, and one for accadent, made a joyful night and a merry mess. We had
no care; the song went round: we were as merry as if we had not suffered
in our retreat. The recollection of our wants made our present
enjoyments doubly dear. Next morning we did the best we could to clean
ourselves, but we made a very shabby figure. Our haversacks were black
with grease: we could not get the marks of the pork out, all we could
do. Here we remained eight days, then marched to Porto Banyes, where we
received a draught of 150 men from England, and staid about eight days,
then marched to Monte Moso. We got here a new kitt. Before this we were
completely in rags; and it used to be our daily labour to pick the
vermin off ourselves. We were quartered in the villages until Colonel
Cadogan arrived from England, who inspected and reviewed us in our new
clothes. We looked very well. The Colonel told us “we were as fat as
fowls.”
During the time the 50th were in Boho, the French made an attempt to
surprise it. We were marched up to it at double quick time. We ran up
hill for four miles, and were formed in the town, and marched up to the
walls, making as great a show as possible. The French stood in column
on the opposite side of the town. We had picquets of the 50th posted on
the outside. Boho being a town of great trade, the French hoped to get a
supply of clothing; but finding they could not succeed they retired, and
we went back to our old cantonments. In a few days we relieved the 50th,
and marched into Boho; at which place we remained all winter, and until
the month of May 1813, when the campaign commenced. I got a most
excellent billet; everything was in plenty; fruit in abundance. I was
regarded as a son of the family; partook with them at meals; and, if any
thing was better than another, my part was in it. I amused myself, when
off duty, in teaching the children to read; for which my hosts thought
they never could be grateful enough. I have often thought the Spaniards
resembled the Scots in their manner of treating their children. How has
my heart warmed, when I have seen the father, with his wife by his side,
and the children round them, repeating the Lord’s prayer and the 23d
Psalm, at evening before they went to bed! Once a week the children were
catechised. When I told them they did the same in Scotland, they looked
at me with astonishment, and asked “If heretics did so?” The priests
often drew comparisons much to our disadvantage from the conduct of our
men. They even said every heretic in England was as bad as them.
One afternoon I had walked into the churchyard, and after having
wandered through it, I lay down in the shade of the wall, near a grave
that appeared to have been lately made. While lying thus, I heard a sob:
I looked towards the place whence it came, and perceived a beautiful
female kneeling beside a grave, devoutly counting her rosary--her tears
falling fast upon the ground. I lay, afraid to move, least the noise
might disturb her. She remained for some time, absorbed in devotion;
then rose from her knees, and, taking a small jar of holy water,
sprinkled the grave, and retired undisturbed by me. I mentioned the
circumstance to no one, but, day after day, I was an unperceived witness
of this scene. At length she saw me as she approached, and was retiring
in haste. I came near her. She stood to let me pass. I said, “My
presence shall give you no uneasiness: Adieu!” “Stay,” she said, “are
you Don Galves’ good soldier?” I replied, “I live with him.” “Stay, you
can feel for me: I have none to feel for, nor advise me. Blessed Virgin,
be my friend!” She looked to heaven; her eyes beaming resignation and
hope, the tears dropping on her bosom. I stretched out my hand to her:
my eyes, I believe, were wet. I did not speak. “None,” she said
mournfully, “can again have my hand: I gave it to Francisco.” “‘Tis the
hand of friendship.” “I can have no friend but death.--You do not pray
for the dead; you cannot pray with me.” I said, “I will listen to
your’s.” She then began her usual prayers; then rose and sprinkled the
grave with holy water, I inquired, “Whose grave do you water?” “My
mother’s.” “How long has she been dead?” “Five years.” “Five years! have
you done thus so long?” “Alas, no! my mother had been released[8]; but
five weeks ago my mournful task again began; ’tis for Francisco: Adieu.”
She sobbed and retired with a hurried step. I dare not embellish, lest
this incident should not be credited; but I feel this is a cold account
of what passed. I have not taken away, neither have I added a word that
did not pass between us. From Galves I learned that Francisco had fallen
in a Guerilla party. It is the belief in Spain, that every drop of holy
water sprinkled upon the grave, quenches a flame in purgatory.
We had passed the winter in the most agreeable manner: we lived well.
The inhabitants were on good terms with us: we had every thing in
abundance; and amusements were not wanting. We had bull fights, at which
we used to exhibit our powers. Several of our men were hurt. Our
horsemen were particularly good bull fighters; and the women used to
give them great praise. Often we had dancings in the evening: sometimes
we got two or three of our band; and then we had dancing in style. Wine
and mirth we never wanted: Music was our great want. The peasants used
to dance to the sound of their rattles, consisting of two pieces of hard
wood, which they held between their fingers, and by shaking their hands,
kept time in the same manner as the boys, in Edinburgh and other parts,
play what they call, “_cockledum ditt_.” They call them _castanetts_.
They have one dance which I never saw in any other place: they call it
_fandango_. I can hardly say it is a dance, for it is scarcely decent.
The dancers first run to each other, as if they are looking for one
another; then the woman runs away, the man follows: next he runs, and
she follows. This they do alternately; all the time using the most
expressive gestures, until both seem overcome; when they retire, and
another couple take their place. This dance had a great effect upon us;
but the Spaniards saw it without being moved, and laughed at the quick
breathing and amorous looks of our men.
The winter in Boho was the shortest I ever passed in Spain; yet we
remained in that town until May 1813. The only disagreeable thing was,
that the wolves, which were very numerous, used to visit us at our
advanced posts, when on duty through the night. One night, while on duty
at the bridge, I thought I was to have fallen a prey to a very large
wolf. My orders were, to be on the alert, and if I heard the least
sound, to place my ear upon the ground, to distinguish if it were the
tread of men or of horses, and give the alarm. The night was starry, and
a little cloudy, when, about half past one o’clock, I could distinguish
the tread of an animal. I believed it to be a stray mule, or ass; but at
length could distinguish a large wolf, a few yards from the bridge, in
the middle of the road, looking full upon me. I levelled my piece, and
stood, my eyes fixed on his: I durst not fire, lest I should miss him,
and give a false alarm. I expected him every moment to spring upon me.
We stood thus looking upon each other, until the tread of the serjeant
and guard to relieve me were heard, then the beast scampered off, and
relieved me from my disagreeable situation.