Highlanders, and all the light companies moved off double quick, and the
ravines among the hills rang with the clank of accoutrements and the
tramp of their feet. These auxiliaries scrambled directly up the face
of the hill, and the 50th regiment, moving to the front, opened a deadly
fire on Gazan's left, while his troops were making ineffectual attempts
to recover the heights on their right.
Exposed thus to a fire on their flanks, and galled in front by a cloud
of sharp-shooters, who were scattered among the rocks and
bushes,--bolting up every instant to fire, and then ducking down to
reload, the French began to retreat down the hills towards France, but
slowly, and keeping up their fire with gallant yet singular
determination.
The coolness displayed by the light infantry in this skirmish was truly
astonishing. To them it appeared like ordinary shooting,--a mere
amusement. The Highlanders and the cacadores were seen scampering
hither and thither, leaping from rock to rock, firing and kneeling, or
throwing themselves flat on the earth, laughing and jesting in a manner,
which none but those that have been eye-witnesses of such an affair can
imagine. Even the deep groan, the sudden shriek of anguish, as some
comrade when struck by a French bullet tossed aside his musquet and
heavily fell prone on the earth, wallowing in his blood, did not cool or
restrain them; and thus they continued to advance for several miles,
strewing the ground with dead, and peppering the retiring foe from every
available point.
Gazan threw out a body of chasseurs to cover the retreat of his forces
down the mountains, and with them an irregular fight was maintained the
whole day. Night scarcely put an end to the contest, and allowed the
jaded French to find a shelter in their own country. The night was
excessively dark, and yet the firing continued for nearly two hours
after the gloom had fairly set in, and only ceased when friends became
confounded with foes. Seaton narrowly escaped being bayoneted by two of
his own favourite light-bobs. Several of the French went the wrong way
in the dark, and, falling among the British, were captured and sent to
the rear. The effect of the midnight firing was peculiarly fine, in
such a wide wilderness as the Pyrenees. Several thousand musquets
flashing incessantly through the gloom, and wakening the myriad echoes
of the mountains and gorges, presented a very singular sight, the
pleasure of viewing which was considerably lessened by the continual
whistling of shot; until the bugles on both sides called in the
stragglers, and the British, giving one hearty cheer of triumph and
defiance, withdrew to their main body.
The lines of the latter were now established along the heights of Maya.
The whole of the mountains were enveloped in a dense fog; a tremendous
storm of rain succeeded, but the troops, the unhappy out-picquets
excepted, were snug under canvas. But there were exposed the hundreds
of killed and wounded, who could neither be sought nor attended to then,
and who lay scattered over miles of contested ground, under all the fury
of the pitiless elements. For the dead it mattered not; but many of the
wounded expired during the raging of the storm, which accelerated their
end.
Seated in his tent, on the sloping sides of which the rain was rushing
down, Stuart wrote letters for Inchavon-house and Lochisla. He found
their composition no easy task, as the candle, which was stuck in a
bottle, flickered in the wind, and sputtered with the rain-drops which
oozed through the canvas sides of his bell-shaped covering. He held out
hopes of his speedy return,--but he had often done so before; for every
new victory was deemed by the troops a precursor of peace, and of return
to their native homes. * * * *
Having now gained the important heights of Maya, Lord Wellington retired
to join another part of his army. The celebrated pass was left to the
care of Fassifern with the first brigade, which encamped on the very
summit of the hills, where the high road from the fertile vale of El
Bastan descends to France.
The second brigade was posted in a valley to the right, and the
Portuguese of the Conde d'Amarante occupied a mountain in front of the
hamlet of Erraza, where a brigade of the same nation was quartered,
under the command of Colonel Ashworth. The 82nd (Prince of Wales's
Volunteers) occupied another part of the hills, about two miles off; and
to these troops was left the defence of the pass of Maya, for which they
were to fight to the last gasp,--orders which, when the time came, were
faithfully and nobly performed.
*CHAPTER VIII.*
*PASS OF MAYA.--PYRENEES.*
"Again the kelpie nichered loud,
And gloated o'er his prey;
And the victims in the mountain pass,
Like tigers, stood at bay;
The first fire thinned the Scottish ranks--
Childe Sinclair hit the ground,
And as his life-blood oozed away,
He moaned--"
_Massacre of Kringellan_:--Vedder.
A month elapsed without the sound of a shot being heard, and the troops
at the passes of Maya and Roncesvalles lay quietly encamped and
unmolested amidst the fine scenery of the Pyrenees. The weather was now
remarkably agreeable, and the officers procured plenty of wine from
Elizondo and other Navarese towns in their rear, and they were beginning
to be as comfortable as it is possible for troops to be under canvas.
But a cloud was gathering in the valleys of Gascony below them.
The great victory at Vittoria, and the important events which followed
it, had not failed deeply to interest and concern Napoleon, to rouse his
wrath and to wound his pride. That object, for which he had shed so
much French blood, was now completely wrested from his grasp, and France
herself remained in imminent peril while the armies of the conqueror
hovered on the mountains which overlooked her territories. Fresh
conscriptions were levied, and again France, in her folly, poured forth
another army, which directed its march to the Pyrenees, to fight the
battles of the insatiable Buonaparte. Soult was recalled from Germany
to place himself at its head, as the "Lieutenant of the Emperor."
Joining the French army on the 13th of July, 1813, he commenced
re-organizing and preparing for a second invasion of Spain, with an
energy and activity which restored the confidence and roused, as usual,
the arrogance of the French troops, who commenced their march with the
intention of driving the allies beyond the Ebro, and celebrating the
birth-day of the great Emperor at Vittoria.
At that time Lord Wellington's responsibilities and difficulties were
not of a slight nature, having to cover the siege of two strong
fortresses and defend the wide space between them, which compelled him
to extend and weaken his line. His skill was evinced in the
distribution of his army, which he posted in the best manner likely to
defend effectually the passes of the Pyrenees, and to cover the
investments of San Sebastian and Pampeluna.
To effect the relief of the latter was the first grand object of the
Duke of Dalmatia. From St. Jean Pied-de-Port, on the morning of Sunday
the 25th July, he marched thirty-five thousand men against the troops of
General Byng occupying the pass of Roncesvalles, which post they
completely turned in the afternoon, after a most desperate conflict,
from which the general and Sir Lowry Cole, who had moved up to his
support, were compelled to retire.
On the same day General Drouet led thirteen thousand men against the
right of Hill's position,--Cameron's command at the Maya pass, which he
had orders to force, as the Highlander had to defend it,--_at all
hazards_. At the time the attack was made no movement was expected, yet
Drouet found the British not altogether unprepared for such an event.
It was a beautiful Sunday, and the heat, even on the summits of the
Pyrenees, was intense. As it was not supposed that the enemy were near,
the tents were all standing, just as they had been for a month before;
and the camp and baggage-mules were miles away down on the Spanish side,
whither they were usually taken for grass.
Stuart on that morning had wandered from the encampment to some
distance, where he was enjoying the appearance of solitude, so like that
of his "Highland home," which reigned far and wide around him. The vast
hills rose on every side, heaving their green summits to the sky. A
death-like stillness prevailed, save when now and then broken by the
scream of a wild bird, the hollow flap of a partridge's wing, or the
faint and far-off tinkle of a mountain rill murmuring through some
solitary gorge, leaping from rock to rock as it descended to the bright
plains of Gascony or Bearn. For nearly an hour he had wandered about
there, when his solitary reveries were broken by the sound of a distant
shot, the echoes of which rang among the splintered rocks and grassy
peaks, recalling him at once to the present; and he hurried away to the
camp, where the brigade was getting under arms, the soldiers mustering
with their usual rapidity and coolness, without betraying the least
surprise or confusion. From an out-picquet the word had been passed
that the French "were in motion in front," and the fixing of fresh
flints, snapping of locks, unrolling and examining of ammunition, gave
token of every preparation being made to receive them with all due
honour. Nearly an hour elapsed, and no more was seen or heard of the
foe. All began to suppose it a false alarm, and many of the officers
went forward to the outposts to reconnoitre.
"Where are the enemy now, Armstrong?" asked Cameron of an officer of the
71st, commanding the picquet which had given the alarm. "In which
direction did you see them?"
"Directly north, and far down on the French side," replied the other,
pointing with his sword. "We distinctly saw a strong party pass yon
defile between the mountains: the glitter of their arms was apparent to
us all."
"I'm afraid their feet were cloven," observed Seaton. "I see nothing
but a herd of cattle crossing the defile you speak of."
"Horned nowte, just black short-legged Argyleshires," said Dugald, who,
as usual, was close to Cameron's skirts. "I see them plain aneuch
mysel, sirs; but the loons may be amang the hills for a' that." A loud
laugh arose at the old man's observations.
"Well, gentlemen," said Armstrong, while his cheek reddened with anger,
and he cast a furious glance on Dugald Mhor, "you are all at liberty to
think as you please; but I tell you that there are cattle among the
hills carrying bayonets on their horns, and that such is the fact, some
here may learn to their cost, ere long."
"What fire the borderer displays," said Ronald, as Armstrong left the
group abruptly; "and here is Alister his sub, quite fierce likewise
about the matter."
"Search round," chimed in Campbell, in the same tone of jest; "search
about, and probably we shall find the pig-skin at the bottom of which
they saw the enemy. I remember once in Egypt, that old Ludovick
Lisle--"
"What mean you, gentlemen?" said Macdonald, angrily; "do you take us for
fools? I believe we have seen the enemy often enough to know them."
"Halt, Macdonald; you take our jests far too seriously," said Stuart.
"If you saw the French, where are they now?"
"In front!" was the tart reply.
"They have been so, down in Gascony, for this month past."
"By all eternity! 'tis something new for me to have assertions doubted
thus," replied Macdonald, considerably ruffled, yet loath to have high
words with his old friend; and adding, "I will make no further
explanations," he turned and left them, following Armstrong, who was
reconnoitring intently through a telescope. While Stuart's cheek grew
red with anger at the contemptuous manner in which Macdonald took leave
of him, his sleeve was plucked by old Dugald Cameron.
"Dinna speak to him juist the noo," whispered that aged retainer
solemnly; "his birse is up, and it is an ill thing to warsle wi' a
Macdonald at sic a time. Dinna gloom wi' het faces at ane anither, for
I tell you one will no behauld the ither lang, sae turn not the back o'
your hand upon him; he may be mixed wi' the mools ere the hills grow
dark wi' the gloaming, or redden again in the morning sun."
"What do you mean, Dugald?" asked Stuart, surprised at the Highlander's
manner.
"Sir, I am farer seen than maist folk, and so was my faither before me.
Baith loud and lang did you and Macdonald laugh ower your wine in the
cornel's tent last nicht, and every laugh o the puir lad gaed to my
heart. I kent by its hollow ringing he was _fey_."
"Fey?" replied the other, respect for Dugald's white haffets, alone
restraining a violent inclination to laugh; "fey, Dugald? How?"
"Loud laughter, I mean laughter such as his, aye portends sudden death.
Ony cailloch that ever wore a mutch, or ony giglet o' a lassie that ever
wore a snood, will tell ye the same thing, sir. Sae dinna girn at or be
thrawn gebbit wi' young Inchkenneth, for he'll no be lang amang us.
Mony heads will there be on the heather ere the sun gaes doon." Dugald
moved off, leaving Stuart considerably surprised at his superstition.
At that moment Alister rushed towards them, with his bonnet in his hand.
"Look ye now, gentlemen," he exclaimed, tossing his long feathers in the
direction of the winding way which led to France, "what call you these?"
Even while he spoke a dense column of French infantry appeared in the
defile between the mountains, and a cloud of others, battalion after
battalion, with their tri-colours fluttering in the breeze, advanced in
succession, until thirteen thousand bayonets were gleaming in the light
of the noonday sun. It was the whole of General Drouet's division.
"There is nae heather here, but I thocht and I said there would be mony
a head on the green swaird ere the hills grew mirk in the gloaming,"
muttered Dugald ominously, as he viewed the advance of the French with
kindling eyes. With the first blast of the bugle the troops were again
under arms, and marched to the front of the pass to stem the approaching
torrent; and, resolute as the soldiers were, they knew that the attempt
to keep their position against such an overwhelming power was vain,
unless Lord Wellington, who was distant at San Sebastian, could by some
means succour them. But obedience is the _first_ duty of the soldier,
and their orders were to defend the passes and fight to the
last,--orders never yet mistaken by British troops.
The out-picquets first opened their fire upon the advancing masses, and
although seconded by a body of light troops, were forced of course to
give way. The 28th and 39th regiments, from Wilson's brigade, moved off
to support the picquets on the right. With courage and resolution
unparalleled these corps sustained the onset of their opponents, whose
tremendous fire however compelled them to waver and recoil. The 34th or
Cumberland regiment, with the 50th, came to their assistance. These
last, forming a junction, rushed upon the French while exposed to the
deadly fire of their extended front, and with unexampled intrepidity
charged them with the bayonet, giving a check to their progress up the
mountains. The French returned the charge, but at the same time made a
flank movement, which their great numbers enabled them to do easily, to
surround and cut off their rash assailants, who were at once placed in a
critical position.
It was at that moment that Cameron brought up his Highlanders, and
restored confidence to the regiments which had been falling into
confusion. It is impossible to describe the scene which the Maya
heights presented at that time. The deafening roar of the
musquetry,--the driving clouds of smoke,--the tumultuous yells of the
French, who were fierce, wild, and eager to wash away in British blood
the disgraces of Vittoria, almost confounded those who were then for the
first time under fire. The advancing enemy continued to shout more like
savages than European soldiers, but their tremendous shower of shot was
fast mowing down the little band which so gallantly endeavoured to
resist them. Like a hail-shower the heavy leaden bullets were falling
everywhere, and tearing up the turf even after they had passed through
the bodies of the soldiers,--so close had the contending parties now
come together.
The British had stood firm without flinching an inch; but the French,
who were now fighting in a great disorganized mob, had continued to
advance, by the rear men pushing on the _front_, until within thirty
paces of the British line; and at so short a distance it may easily be
supposed that the shot on both sides told with fearful effect,
especially among the dense masses of the French, before whom, in five
minutes, arose a pile of their own dead and wounded like a breast-work.
Beyond this ghastly line they would not advance an inch, nor could they
be prevailed upon to do so even by the most strenuous exertions of their
officers, who, whenever the smoke cleared away a little, were observed
brandishing their sabres, waving their colours and eagles, and
enthusiastically crying, "_Vive la France! Vive l'Empereur! Vive la
Gloire!_" But their soldiers heeded them not, and continued to load and
fire with the utmost _sang froid_, but would not be led to the charge.
The brave 71st Highland Light Infantry, after fighting with their usual
obstinacy and intrepidity, had been compelled to give way, by which
three Portuguese pieces of cannon fell into the possession of the
French. To recapture these, a desperate attempt was made by Lieutenant
Armstrong, who, at the head of eight private soldiers, as brave and as
rash as himself, rushed furiously on the enemy. With his sword in one
hand and his bonnet in the other, the gallant Borderer was seen amidst
the smoke leading them on; but all perished under the leaden shower,
within a few feet of the French bayonets. After being reduced to half
its number of officers and men, this fine regiment began to retire in
disorder. The 34th and 50th were in the same perilous predicament,
owing to the front and flank movements of the enemy, when Fassifern with
his Highlanders entered the bloody arena. As the battalion moved in
open column of companies, along the hill-top from the camp towards the
pass, Cameron addressed a few words to them, exhorting them to fight to
the last man, and maintain the ancient fame of the north. He reminded
them that they were not fighting merely for the defence of Spain, but of
those homes where their kindred dwelt. His voice became drowned in the
din of the conflict which rolled along the face of the hills, and Stuart
heard only the concluding part of his address, and part of it was in
Gaelic. "Highlanders! we shall have a bloody sabbath here to-day; but
we go forth to shed our blood that the sabbath-bells may ring in peace
at home, in those green straths and wooded glens where many a Scottish
heart is praying for us at this hour." The sound of the pipes, as the
piper on the flank of each company struck up "_On wi' the Tartan_," was
the only reply. What a gush of indescribable feeling came through every
breast, when the blast of the pipe was heard at such a moment! Every
eye lighted up, and every cheek flushed: the effect of the sound of that
strange instrument on the sons of Caledonia is well known.
"In halls of joy and in scenes of mourning it has prevailed,--it has
animated her warriors in battle, and welcomed them back after their
toils to the homes of their love and the hills of their nativity. Its
strains were the first sounded in the ears of infancy, and they are the
last to be forgotten in the wanderings of age. Even Highlanders will
allow that it is not the gentlest of instruments; but when far from
their mountain-homes, what sounds, however melodious, could thrill their
hearts like one burst of their own wild native pipe? The feelings which
other instruments awaken are general and undefined, because they talk
alike to Frenchmen, Spaniards, Germans, and Highlanders, for they are
common to all; but the bag-pipe is sacred to Scotland, and speaks a
language which Scotsmen only feel. It talks to them of home and all
_the past_, and brings before them, on the burning shores of India, the
wild hills and oft-frequented streams of Caledonia,--the friends that
are thinking of them, and the sweethearts and wives that are weeping for
them there. And need it be told here to how many fields of danger and
victory its proud strains have led? There is not a battle that is
honourable to Britain in which its war-blast has not sounded; when every
other instrument has been hushed by the confusion and carnage of the
scene, it has been borne into the thick of the battle, and far in the
advance its bleeding but devoted bearer, sinking to the earth, has
sounded at once encouragement to his countrymen--and his own
coronach!"[*]
[*] Preface to Macdonald's "Ancient Martial Music of Scotland."
Ranald-dhu with his comrades strove to call up the "fierce native
daring" of the Highlanders, who continued to move quickly forward. The
balls now began to hiss and tear up the turf around them, now and then
striking down some poor fellow, who was left rolling on the ground in
agony.
"The battalion will form line on the grenadiers," cried
Fassifem,--"double quick!" The movement was performed with the rapidity
and precision of a home-review. As the covering-serjeant of the light
company took up the ground of alignement, holding his long pike aloft, a
shot struck him in the head, passing through his right eye, and he fell
dead. The line formed across his body, and the word of command from
Seaton, "Light company; halt,--front,--dress!" had scarcely been heard
on the left, before the orderly bugler, who stood by Cameron's side,
sounded to fire, and the hoarse braying _piobrachd_ now rang along the
line.
The first volley of the Highlanders gave a temporary check to the enemy,
and enabled the 34th and "old Half-hundred" to reform in order. The
French line was now, as I have said, within thirty paces, and every
lineament and feature of their dark and sallow faces could be distinctly
seen at so short a distance. They were now in the midst of all the
uproar, the smoke, the blood, the danger, the mingling of hideous groans
and cries,--in short, the hell upon earth of a hot engagement, in which
both parties became so heated by the slaughter around them, that all the
softer passions were forgotten, and they longed, with a tiger-like
feeling, to bury their blades in each other's hearts.
Ronald felt his pulses thickening, the blood tingling in his ears, for
the sound of the musquetry had deafened them to every thing else, and
his heart rebounded within his bosom until he could almost hear it beat;
but it was with feelings the reverse of fear,--a wish to leap headlong
among the enemy, to cut them down with his sword as he would whinbushes,
and to revenge the slaughter the terrible fire of so dense a column was
making among his gallant and devoted regiment. So thick was the smoke
become, that he could scarcely see the third file from him, and only at
times it cleared up a little. What was then revealed, served only to
infuriate him the more. The Highlanders were lying in heaps across and
across each other,--piled up just as they fell; while their comrades
fought above them, firing and reloading with all the rapidity in their
power, until struck by a shot, and down they fell to perish unnoticed
and unknown. Almost every shot killed; for the distance was short, and
the wounds were hideous and ghastly, the blood spouting forth from the
orifice as if through a syringe.
Now and then Ronald felt his heart momentarily recoil within him when he
beheld some poor soldier, while in the full possession of life and
energy, toss aside his firelock, and fall suddenly backwards across some
heap of corpses--stricken dead. But a battle-field is no place for
sympathy, and the feeling lasted but for an instant.
"Shall we never get the word to charge?" cried Seaton fiercely. "O
Stuart! this is indeed infernal work,--to be mauled thus, and within a
few feet of their muzzles."
"A charge would be madness, and our utter destruction. A single
regiment against thirteen columns of Frenchmen--"