I may here recount an instance of the folly and foolhardiness of youth,
and the recklessness to which a long course of exposure to danger
produces. When Bayonne was invested, I was one night on duty on the
outer picket. The ground inside the breastwork which had been thrown up
for our protection by Burgoyne was in a most disagreeable state for any
one who wished to repose after the fatigues of the day, being knee-deep
in mud of a remarkably plastic nature. I was dead tired, and
determined to get a little rest in some more agreeable spot; so calling
my sergeant, I told him to give me his knapsack for a pillow; I would
make a comfortable night of it on the top of the breastwork, as it was
an invitingly dry place. "For heaven's sake take care, sir," said he;
"you'll have fifty bullets in you: you will be killed to a certainty."
"Pooh, nonsense," said I, and climbing up, I wrapt myself in my cloak,
laid my head on the knapsack, and soon fell into a sound sleep.
By the mercy of Providence I remained in a whole skin, either from the
French immediately underneath not perceiving me, or not thinking me
worth a shot; but when General Stopford came up with Lord James Hay
(who not long since reminded me of this youthful escapade) I received a
severe wigging, and was told to consider myself lucky that I was not
put under arrest for exposing my life in so foolish a manner.
Among the many officers of the Guards who were taken prisoners in the
unfortunate sortie from Bayonne, was the Hon. H. Townshend, commonly
called Bull Townshend. He was celebrated as a bon vivant, and in
consequence of his too great indulgence in the pleasures of the table,
had become very unwieldy and could not move quick enough to please his
nimble captors, so he received many prods in the back from a sharp
bayonet. After repeated threats, however, he was dismissed with what
our American friends would be pleased to designate "a severe booting."
The late Sir Willoughby Cotton was also a prisoner. It really seemed
as if the enemy had made choice of our fattest officers. Sir
Willoughby escaped by giving up his watch and all the money which he
had in his pockets; but this consisting of a Spanish dollar only, the
smallness of the sum subjected him to the same ignominious treatment as
had been experienced by Townshend.
Among the numerous bad characters in our ranks, several were coiners,
or utterers of bad money. In the second brigade of Guards, just before
we arrived at St. Jean de Luz, a soldier was convicted of this offence,
and was sentenced to receive 800 lashes. This man made sham Spanish
dollars out of the pewter spoons of the regiment. As he had before
been convicted and flogged, he received this terrible sentence, and
died under the lash. Would it not have been better to have condemned
him to be shot?-- It would have been more humane, certainly more
military, and far less brutal.