having formed a junction, advanced, under the command of the latter,
fifty thousand strong, from Valencia on Madrid, and in a short time
arrived within a few leagues of Aranjuez. Combining his forces with
those of Generals Elio and Freire, and with the Spaniards of Don Carlos
de Espagna, Sir Rowland Hill, at the head of forty thousand well-tried
soldiers, moved to meet them, commencing his march from Aranjuez on the
23rd of October. Many a sorrowful farewell was said that morning, and
many a bright eye grew dim as the retiring sound of the British drums
died away among the windings of the Tagus. Crossing the latter,
immediately below the walls of the palace, the division marched to
Colmenare de Orijo, a town of Toledo. Here different brigades were
posted at the several fords of the Tagus, by which Soult's infantry
might attempt to pass. That at Fuente Duenna fell to the lot of the
first brigade. On the second day after their bivouacking there, a party
of the enemy's cavalry were seen approaching the river, either to cross
or reconnoitre. The light company of the Gordon Highlanders, and
Captain Blacier's company of the German rifles, were ordered to receive
them at the ford. Unluckily for himself, Lisle accompanied "the light
bobs" on this occasion as a volunteer, in place of an officer who was
sick. Seaton commanded the whole, and he placed the companies in ambush
among some laurel-bushes, willows, and long reeds which grew by the
water-side, overlooking the place where the dragoons must cross if such
was their intention. The Highlanders knelt down on the right knee, but
the Germans, who were posted among the reeds, lay flat on the ground,
and levelled their short rifles over the glazed tops of their shakoes,
which they placed before them. All were ready to let fly a volley among
the unsuspecting Frenchmen, who came forward at a gallop with their
carbines unslung. The party consisted of nearly eighty heavy dragoons.
An officer of cuirassiers and two others in staff uniform accompanied
them. They drew their bridles at the brink of the river, and from his
place of concealment Stuart recognised his friend De Mesmai in the
cuirassier; and in one of the staff officers Monsieur Law, the Baron de
Clappourknuis, in the other their late host at Aranjuez, the Duke of
Alba de T----.
"Stuart," whispered Lisle, "is it possible, that the officer without the
epaulets is really the duke?"
"Without doubt 'tis he."
"How base and treacherous!"
"He will receive the reward of his treason instantly. It has always been
whispered that he was false to King Ferdinand and his allies. A base
wretch! to join the invaders of Spain when so many brave men are
struggling with heart and hand to free her from the grasp of the
Buonapartes. Evan, bring that officer down. Mark him when the word is
given to fire."
"Were he as fause as Menteith, an ounce o' cauld leed will settle him,"
replied Evan, blowing some loose powder from his lock. "I'll tak' him
canny, and wing him aucht inches below the oxter,--that's just in the
belt."
"No, no, for God's sake!" whispered Louis to Stuart. "He is the father
of Virginia de Alba, and were he as false as Judas that would save him."
"Hush!" whispered Seaton, in the same low tone; "they are conversing,
and I should be glad to hear the news from Valencia."
"_Monsieur le Duc_ will perhaps be so good as to inform us whereabouts
this infernal bridge of Fuente Duenna lies?" said De Mesmai.
"Ah!" chimed in the baron, in Spanish, "this is the place marked by the
marshal in his map."
"The bridge lies lower down the river," replied the duke; "but there is
a ford in this neighbourhood, which I will have the honour to show you,
senores."
"Do so, in the devil's name!" replied De Mesmai hastily, while he
surveyed the duke with an expression on his dark face which showed how
much he despised such an auxiliary, notwithstanding his rank. "We have
ridden quite far enough to see this ford, and when you have shown it to
the baron, I will condescend to thank you."
"De Mesmai!" said the baron, holding up his hand warningly.
"Bah! _Monsieur le Baron_,--I comprehend; the British may look for a
visit in the morning, which will yield them more danger than delight.
With your permission, Monsieur Law, after reconnoitring this ford we
will retire as soon as possible, because I little like riding here in
such open ground. These bushes opposite might contain a thousand
riflemen, or some of your bare-legged brethren, than whom I would rather
face the devil. I have provided a white stake to drive into the ground,
which will mark the ford for Lamorciere's chasseurs, who lead the way in
our attack on Hill's troops to-night."
"Colonel Lamorciere shall be welcome," said Seaton, as De Mesmai moved
his horse along the bank of the river, chanting gaily an old rondeau
beginning with,--
_"Pauvres Anglais!_
_Vous n'avez que de l'arrogance,_
_Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c._
At that moment the Highland bugle-boy, who knelt by Beaton's side,
sounded "_fire!_"
The bugle of the Germans answered on the left, and a deadly volley,
which enveloped the whole place in smoke, was poured upon the French,
nearly one half of whom fell from their saddles. Horses were seen
galloping off in all directions, dragging their riders by the stirrup,
or leaving them dead or dying on the ground. The traitor dashed his
spurs into his horse's flanks and fled at full gallop, followed by the
baron. But not so De Mesmai, whom this unexpected volley had filled
with the utmost astonishment and ferocity, although it struck a
temporary panic into the dragoons.
"Revenge! _mes camarades_. Follow me,--charge! By the name of the bomb!
I will cleave to the gorget the first dastard who attempts to fly.
_Vive l'Empereur_! Forward--charge!"
Animated by his example they crossed the ford at a gallop, dashing the
water right and left; and forcing their horses up to the bank, even
while exposed to a hot fire, they fell furiously with hoof and blade
among the scattered Highlanders. It was a piece of unexampled daring
for a few dragoons to cross a river thus, under a hot fire from
concealed musquetry.
"_Vive l'Empereur_! No quarter to the Germans!" shouted De Mesmai,
leaping his horse over the underwood.
"Form square!" cried the deep and manly voice of Seaton. "Rally--rally!
Quick, Highlanders, or you will be cut to pieces! Close to the centre,
Germans and all; blow 'the assembly,' bugler! Hurrah, my lads! Shoulder
to shoulder, Highlandmen! and give them the bayonet." With the speed of
thought a rallying square was formed. Blacier's Germans and the
Highlanders mingled, the long cross-hilted daggers of the former acting
efficiently as bayonets when fixed to the muzzles of their rifles.
Ronald, while dressing, as it is technically termed, one of the faces of
the square, narrowly escaped a cut aimed at him by a dragoon, who was
instantly shot by Angus Mackie, a private next to him; and Seaton had
the feathers of his bonnet sheered away by a stroke from De Mesmai's
sword. But the cavalry seldom came within a pike's length of them; the
stunted brushwood, the broken nature of the ground, and the prostrate
men and horses encumbered their advance, while the steady fire of the
little square disheartened and disconcerted them. After two brave
attempts to break the band of infantry, De Mesmai was compelled to
recross the ford, leaving sixty dragoons killed or wounded behind him.
Notwithstanding the hasty nature of their retreat, the twenty who
retired with him cut down and carried off several of the straggling
riflemen, dragging them across their holster-flaps by main strength of
arm. Some of these they were soon compelled to drop, when galled in
retreat by the fire of the victorious light infantry, who again lined
the bank, and kept blazing away so long as they were within range.
"Well done 60th!" exclaimed Seaton, as he mustered the companies
together. "'Tis hard to say whether the green jackets or the tartan
kilts have distinguished themselves most this morning. Lamorciere's
chasseurs will have need of other guides than the dragoons, if they
visit the ford to-night."
"Ech! Capitan Seetun, ve hab gibben dem _der teufels braden_ for
breakfast,--ech, ech!" replied Blacier, cramming a quantity of tobacco
into the bowl of a huge pipe, which he had pulled from the mouth of a
Serjeant and transferred to his own. "Someting more betterer dan
_wahr-sagen_ vill show dem de foord dis nicht,--de dragoons scarcely
vill."
"No; I believe not, Blacier, my old boy! I shall recommend you to the
notice of Sir Rowland in my account of this affair. You have long
deserved the brevet."
"_Der teufel hole dich_! I tink so. Much obleege--much obleege to
you."
The Germans had suffered a little in this skirmish, several having been
sabred by the French; but only two Highlanders were killed, and these by
carbine shots. Every where around the ground was strewed with helmets,
holsters, sabres, carbines, and the bodies of men and of horses, rolling
about in agony, or lying motionless and still in death. Sometimes a
head, a boot and spur, or a gauntletted hand rose above the clear
current of the Tagus, and then sunk for ever, as some wounded straggler
was swept down by the stream. All the arms and accoutrements lying
scattered about were, in conformity with the usual practice, dashed to
pieces and completely destroyed by the victors.
"We have escaped easily in this affair," said Seaton, as he mustered his
light company, "only a file of men killed; it might have been otherwise,
had we formed square less promptly. You have done well, my gallant
green feathers; you will get an extra ration of grog for this morning's
work!" The Highlanders responded by a cheer.
"The Germans have lost many; they lie pretty thick by the water-side."
"Owing to their own want of alacrity in answering the bugle-call. Many
of them have their heads cloven down, even through the thick shako."
"This will teach the survivors to be smarter in future. But where is
Lisle?"
"Stuart, by all that is sacred he has fallen into the hands of the
enemy!"
"He was close beside me at the moment the bugle sounded to form square,
and I have not seen him since."
"I am afraid, sir, Mr. Lisle is either killed or taen awa' prisoner,"
said Serjeant Macrone, whose bare knee was streaming with blood, which
he endeavoured to stanch by a piece of tartan rent from a plaid.
"I saw him stagger under the stroke of a sabre at the moment the
dragoons broke frae the bushes amang us," observed another serjeant,
advancing his pike.
"And has any man seen him since?" asked Stuart of the company
breathlessly. Angus Mackie and several others replied that they had,
but their statements differed so much, that it was impossible to come to
any conclusion. One declared he had seen him killed "by a cloure on the
croon, and that he never moved after it;" another stated that he slew
the dragoon who wounded him, but all agreed that he had never gained the
shelter of the rallying square. Evan Iverach declared, that "as sure as
death he saw puir Maister Lisle grippit by the craigie, and dragged awa'
by the officer of the cuirassiers." This last statement appeared the
most probable, as no traces of poor Louis could be discovered on the
ground save his sword and bonnet; and Stuart had a dim recollection of
seeing a red uniform among the few prisoners whom De Mesmai's dragoons
succeeded in carrying off amid the smoke and confusion.
From Villa Corrijos Ronald next day wrote to Alice, giving an account of
her brother's capture in the skirmish at Fuente Duenna; and while he
deplored the event, he said not a word of his fears that he was
desperately wounded. He had very little doubt that he must have been
so, otherwise De Mesmai, strong and muscular as he was, would have found
it no easy task to carry off Louis in the singular manner he did.
Sir Rowland Hill, on discovering that King Joseph and Marshal Soult were
manoeuvring to outflank him, prepared instantly to frustrate their
intentions, and give them battle. Making forced marches by day and
night at the head of the British, Spanish, and Portuguese troops he had
collected together, he skilfully took up a strong position in front of
Aranjuez, intending there to await the arrival of the enemy.
The troops passed the Puento Largo at midnight. A detachment of miners
were making preparations to blow it up, and their red lights, burning
under the ancient arches and twinkling on the sluggish waters of the
Jacama, presented a singular appearance as the regiments marched above
them towards the hills, where the position was taken before day-break.
But no battle ensued. A despatch arrived from the Marquess of
Wellington, saying that he had been forced temporarily to abandon the
siege of Burgos, and order an immediate retreat into winter-quarters in
Leon and Estremadura,--a sad and most unlooked-for reverse of fortune to
the army, who had driven the enemy before them into Valencia and the
northern provinces. Marching through the wide and fertile plains, in
the midst of which rises Madrid, the second division commenced its
retreat in obedience to this order. Passing close by the walls or
earthen defences of the Spanish capital, they bivouacked at the distance
of a league from it. There was no time to pitch tents, and the troops
lay on the ground without them, exposed to all the misery of a most
tempestuous night of wind and rain. Next night they were more
comfortably lodged in the village and spacious palace of the Escurial.
Ronald's light company were quartered in the royal chapel, a building
which contains the tombs of all the Spanish monarchs, from Charles the
Fifth down to the present age. Crossing the Guadarama, or sandy river,
at a village of the same name, the great mountain was ascended, through
which lies the famous Guadarama Pass, and from which an extensive view
of the surrounding country is obtained.
The mountains were growing dark as the setting sun, enveloped in dun
clouds, sank far behind them, and the effect of the scenery was
considerably heightened by the march of so many thousand men,--cavalry,
infantry, and artillery, up the winding pathway among the silent and
solitary defiles, disappearing, section after section, with colours
waving and arms glittering, down the deep pass of the Guadarama. Afar
off on the plains of Madrid, leagues in their rear, clouds of dust
rolling along the green landscape, marked where the pursuing squadrons
and battalions of Soult followed the route of Sir Rowland with precision
and rapidity.
On the 8th November, to cover the retreat of the whole army, and to stay
Soult's advance, the first brigade was ordered to defend, to the last
extremity, the town of Alba de Tormes, near the eastern borders of the
ancient kingdom of Leon; a forlorn sort of duty, when it is remembered
that so small a band were to oppose the concentrated French army, 90,000
strong, I believe. On being reinforced by General Hamilton's Portuguese
brigade, and two companies of Spaniards under the Conde de Truxillo,
every means were taken to render the place as strong as possible by
erecting trenches and barricading the streets,--almost useless
precautions, as the town, which lies low, is commanded by two adjacent
heights. Its appearance, when the brigade entered it, was indeed
miserable and desolate, having been completely deserted by the
inhabitants, into whose hearts the retreat of the British and the
advance of the French had stricken terror.
The soldiers had tasted nothing for thirty-six hours, and although
drenched with rain, and wearied by a hard and forced march, had to
remain under arms around the old and ruinous Moorish wall of Alba,
during a very chill November night. About dawn, as no enemy had yet
appeared, after guards had been posted, the troops were dismissed to
take up their quarters in the dreary and empty houses, where every thing
had been carried off or destroyed by the inhabitants before their
flight. The drizzling rain which had fallen during the night had
drenched them to the skin, but a dry article of clothing was not to be
had, as the baggage was far away on the road to the rear. However,
doors and shutters were torn down from the houses, and blazing fires
kindled on the tiled floors, around which officers and soldiers crowded
together without ceremony. Another day of starvation was before
them,--untold gold could not have produced an ounce of flour in Alba.
At night, by the great exertions of the commissary, some horse-beans
were procured, and a handful given to every man; but early next morning
some muleteers arrived from Corde Villar, bringing a few small bags of
flour, which were received with wild demonstrations of thankfulness and
joy by the starving brigade.
Every man who could bake was set to work, and the ovens were speedily
filled with tommies, as the poor fellows designated their loaves, and
expectant crowds, with eager eyes and hollow cheeks, stood waiting
around the bake-house doors.
The hot and smoking bread was scarcely brought forth for equal
distribution before the bugles sounded, and the distant reports of
carbines announced that the enemy were coming on; and the picquet of the
9th light dragoons, posted in front of the town, had begun to retire
before the heavy cavalry of Soult. "Stand to your arms!" was now the cry
on all sides, and a scramble and uproar ensued among the soldiers at the
ovens. The hot loaves were torn to pieces in handfuls and scattered
about, and many who had fasted for eight-and-forty hours, (the repast of
horse-beans excepted,) received nothing, while too much fell to the
share of others.
Ronald was unfortunately among the former, as it was impossible for an
officer to struggle for a mouthful of food among the men, and until that
day he never knew what it was to experience the utmost extremity of
hunger. But there was no help for it then; and venting a hearty
malediction on the Duke of Dalmatia, he joined the light company, which
lined a part of the Moorish wall facing the direction in which the enemy
were momently expected to appear. The trenches, barricades, and other
hastily-erected works were manned, and two hundred of the Highland light
infantry were placed in the ancient castle of Alba, a lofty round tower
built by the Moors. The rest of the troops, not engaged in lining the
walls, occupied those streets which would protect them from the view and
fire of the enemy; and General Howard ordered a part of the regiment of
sappers to undermine the bridge over the Tormes, which at Alba is both
deep and rapid, to the end that it might be blown up, to cut off the
pursuit of the enemy when the British were compelled to abandon the
town. The light dragoons, retiring through Alba, halted on the other
side of the river to await the event, and immediately afterwards Soult's
advance came in sight.
A company of infantry, the head of a column, appeared between the two
hills which overlook Alba. They were beyond the range of musquetry, and
halting there, they ordered arms and stood at ease. Shortly afterwards a
staff-officer, wearing a glazed cocked-hat and green uniform, and
mounted on a spotless white steed, descended at a trot towards the town,
and with the most perfect coolness walked his horse slowly before the
wall, which was lined by the 50th and Highlanders, riding within fifty
yards of their musquets, a distance at which, had they fired, he must
undoubtedly have been slain.
"A devilish cool fellow!" said Seaton. "He jogs easily along, looking
every moment as if he expected a shot was coming to spoil his
impertinent reconnoitring."
A murmur and cries of "Tak him doon! tak him doon! Gie him his kail
through the reek," arose among the Highlanders, who began to look to
their flints and priming.
"Weel would I like to gie that chield's pride a fa'!" said Angus Mackie,
cocking his musquet. "The blind hauf hunder' surely ha'na seen him.
Dearsake, Captain Seaton! just say the word,--will I fire?"
"Why,--I know no objection," said Seaton, looking inquiringly towards
Cameron, who was standing on foot near an angle of the trench, with old
Dugald Mhor beside him holding his charger by the bridle. "Colonel, some
of my fellows are anxious to fire; shall I permit them? I have some
deadly shots in the light company. Monsieur's reconnoissance will end
the instant Angus fires upon him."
"Shame on you, Highlanders!" exclaimed Cameron, his eyes beginning to
sparkle as usual when he was excited. "Would you fire on a solitary
individual, who cannot return you a shot? He is a brave soldier
although a rash one, and I will never permit such a deed to be done.
Keep steady, men; you will have firing enough in a short time."
The light company were abashed, and the life of the Frenchman was
saved,--a piece of generous clemency which Cameron soon had reason to
repent. The staff-officer, continuing at the same deliberate pace,
ascended one of the heights, where he was joined by an orderly on foot,
who by his directions was seen to place eleven stones, equi-distant,
around the summit. Descending past the head of the infantry column in
the valley, he ascended the other eminence, and there the same movements
were performed; after which they disappeared to the rear.
That French officer, who so narrowly escaped death, was MARSHAL
SOULT,--the great Duke of Dalmatia himself, as one of his own
despatches, which a few days afterwards fell into the hands of our
troops, sufficiently testified.
Scarcely had he withdrawn, before twenty-two pieces of artillery, each
drawn by four horses, ascended the heights at full gallop, and took
their ground at the several marks which Marshal Soult had laid. In an
instant the gunners leaped from their seats; the guns were wheeled
round, with their yawning muzzles pointed to Alba; the horses were
untraced, the limbers cast off, and with the speed of thought the
cannoniers, all stout fellows, wearing high grenadier caps, grey
great-coats with large red epaulets, were seen hard at work with sponge
and rammer, charging home the cannon. Their active figures were seen
more distinctly by the yellow light shed across the sky by the morning
sun, the rays of which shone merrily on the glistening Tormes, the brown
autumnal woods, the mouldering walls and desolate streets of Alba, where
soon the work of death was to begin.
"Well, colonel," said Seaton, "what think you of this gay preparation?
We shall have sixteen-pounders and long nines flying like hailstones in
a minute more. You will scarcely rejoice at allowing the white steed to
carry off its rider with a whole skin."
Cameron bit his lips, and his fiery eyes flashed; but he made no reply.
"Hech!" muttered an old Highlander; "it's a true sayin' at hame--Glum
folk are no easy guided. Ta cornel's been makin' a fule o' hersel the
day before the morn; hoomch!"
"Keep close under your walls and trenches, lads," cried Campbell, who
was watching the heights through a telescope levelled across the saddle
of his horse. "Keep close; but never duck down when a ball comes: as
old Sir Ralph used to say, 'it looks d--ned unsoldierlike.' Here comes
a shot."
A flash, and a wreath of white smoke, announced the first cannon-ball,
which, striking the wall of a house, brought a mass of masonry tumbling
into the street. Whiz came a second, and a third, and a fourth,--all in
quick succession. The French cannonade commenced then in good earnest,
and continued incessantly from ten in the morning until five in the
afternoon,--firing thirteen hundred round of shot and shell, and perhaps
to so hot a discharge of cannon so small a body of troops, in such a
defenceless place, were never subjected before. Without the least
intermission it continued for seven hours, and even then the enemy only
ceased to cool their guns, and await the completion of a plan formed by
Soult for surrounding and completely cutting off the defenders of Alba.
It was a miracle that every man in the place was not destroyed; but the
enemy chiefly expended their shot on a large empty convent, which they
supposed to be full of soldiers, and in consequence levelled it to the
foundations.
One sixteen-pounder came whizzing amongst the light company, and,
striking the breast-work of loose earth, buried Seaton and a section of
men under it; and a hearty laugh arose from the regiment, as they
scrambled out of the trench, shaking off the soil and turf which had
covered them up.
Although shot were crashing, shells bursting, and houses falling
incessantly for seven consecutive hours, only about fifty Highlanders
were killed. The loss of the other corps I have never ascertained, but
the streets were every where strewed with the dead. Many of the wounds
were beyond conception frightful, being all by cannon-shot or
bomb-splinters, tearing absolutely to pieces those they struck, and
shearing off legs and arms like withered reeds. Macildhui, a Serjeant,
was killed as Ronald was delivering some orders to him. His head was
carried away like an egg-shell, and his brains were spattered over the
pavement. Night was closing, and the enemy's guns were still in
position on the heights, from which another iron dose was expected in
the morning, when an aide-de-camp from Salamanca, covered from plume to
spur with dust, dashed into the town at full gallop, and informed
General Howard that 3,000 French cavalry had forded the Tormes some
miles above Alba, that his position was turned, and that the Marquess of
Wellington desired he would abandon the town without a moment's delay,
otherwise the first brigade were lost men. The order was instantly
given to decamp, and the place was quitted double-quick, the troops
moving through those streets which concealed their movements from Soult,
and forming in close columns on the other side of the Tormes to be in
readiness for the cavalry, should they make their appearance. To
deceive the French marshal, the sentries were kept on the walls until
the last moment; and Stuart, with ten light-company men, was sent to
"bring them off."
"Farewell, senor!' cried Truxillo, waving his sabre to Ronald over the
battlements of the ancient Moorish tower, which he had volunteered to
defend to the last with his two companies of Castilians, to cover the
retreat of Howard's and Hamilton's brigade.