“Now?” he asked, and he handed me his field-glass.
With its aid I perceived a small mound or cairn upon the crest.
“What you see,” said the Marshal, “is a pile of logs which was placed
there as a beacon. We laid it when the country was in our hands, and
now, although we no longer hold it, the beacon remains undisturbed.
Gerard, that beacon must be lit to-night. France needs it, the Emperor
needs it, the army needs it. Two of your comrades have gone to light it,
but neither has made his way to the summit. To-day it is your turn, and
I pray that you may have better luck.”
It is not for a soldier to ask the reason for his orders, and so I was
about to hurry from the room, but the Marshal laid his hand upon my
shoulder and held me.
“You shall know all, and so learn how high is the cause for which you
risk your life,” said he. “Fifty miles to the south of us, on the other
side of the Tagus, is the army of General Clausel. His camp is situated
near a peak named the Sierra d'Ossa. On the summit of this peak is a
beacon, and by this beacon he has a picket. It is agreed between us that
when at midnight he shall see our signal-fire he shall light his own as
an answer, and shall then at once fall back upon the main army. If
he does not start at once I must go without him. For two days I have
endeavoured to send him his message. It must reach him to-day, or his
army will be left behind and destroyed.”
Ah, my friends, how my heart swelled when I heard how high was the task
which Fortune had assigned to me!
If my life were spared, here was one more splendid new leaf for my
laurel crown. If, on the other hand, I died, then it would be a death
worthy of such a career. I said nothing, but I cannot doubt that all
the noble thoughts that were in me shone in my face, for Massena took my
hand and wrung it.
“There is the hill and there the beacon,” said he.
“There is only this guerilla and his men between you and it. I cannot
detach a large party for the enterprise and a small one would be seen
and destroyed. Therefore to you alone I commit it. Carry it out in your
own way, but at twelve o'clock this night let me see the fire upon the
hill.”
“If it is not there,” said I, “then I pray you, Marshal Massena, to see
that my effects are sold and the money sent to my mother.” So I raised
my hand to my busby and turned upon my heel, my heart glowing at the
thought of the great exploit which lay before me.
I sat in my own chamber for some little time considering how I had best
take the matter in hand. The fact that neither Cortex nor Duplessis,
who were very zealous and active officers, had succeeded in reaching
the summit of the Sierra de Merodal, showed that the country was very
closely watched by the guerillas. I reckoned out the distance upon a
map. There were ten miles of open country to be crossed before reaching
the hills. Then came a belt of forest on the lower slopes of the
mountain, which may have been three or four miles wide. And then there
was the actual peak itself, of no very great height, but without any
cover to conceal me. Those were the three stages of my journey.
It seemed to me that once I had reached the shelter of the wood all
would be easy, for I could lie concealed within its shadows and climb
upward under the cover of night.
From eight till twelve would give me four hours of darkness in which
to make the ascent. It was only the first stage, then, which I had
seriously to consider.
Over that flat country there lay the inviting white road, and I
remembered that my comrades had both taken their horses. That was
clearly their ruin, for nothing could be easier than for the brigands to
keep watch upon the road, and to lay an ambush for all who passed along
it. It would not be difficult for me to ride across country, and I was
well horsed at that time, for I had not only Violette and Rataplan, who
were two of the finest mounts in the army, but I had the splendid black
English hunter which I had taken from Sir Cotton. However, after much
thought, I determined to go upon foot, since I should then be in a
better state to take advantage of any chance which might offer. As to my
dress, I covered my Hussar uniform with a long cloak, and I put a
grey forage cap upon my head. You may ask me why I did not dress as
a peasant, but I answer that a man of honour has no desire to die the
death of a spy. It is one thing to be murdered, and it is another to be
justly executed by the laws of war. I would not run the risk of such an
end.
In the late afternoon I stole out of the camp and passed through the
line of our pickets. Beneath my cloak I had a field-glass and a pocket
pistol, as well as my sword. In my pocket were tinder, flint, and steel.
For two or three miles I kept under cover of the vineyards, and made
such good progress that my heart was high within me, and I thought to
myself that it only needed a man of some brains to take the matter in
hand to bring it easily to success. Of course, Cortex and Duplessis
galloping down the high-road would be easily seen, but the intelligent
Gerard lurking among the vines was quite another person. I dare say I
had got as far as five miles before I met any check. At that point there
is a small wine-house, round which I perceived some carts and a number
of people, the first that I had seen. Now that I was well outside the
lines I knew that every person was my enemy, so I crouched lower while I
stole along to a point from which I could get a better view of what was
going on. I then perceived that these people were peasants, who were
loading two waggons with empty wine-casks. I failed to see how they
could either help or hinder me, so I continued upon my way.
But soon I understood that my task was not so simple as had appeared. As
the ground rose the vineyards ceased, and I came upon a stretch of open
country studded with low hills. Crouching in a ditch I examined them
with a glass, and I very soon perceived that there was a watcher upon
every one of them, and that these people had a line of pickets and
outposts thrown forward exactly like our own. I had heard of the
discipline which was practised by this scoundrel whom they called “The
Smiler,” and this, no doubt, was an example of it.
Between the hills there was a cordon of sentries, and though I worked
some distance round to the flank I still found myself faced by the
enemy. It was a puzzle what to do.
There was so little cover that a rat could hardly cross without being
seen. Of course, it would be easy enough to slip through at night, as I
had done with the English at Torres Vedras, but I was still far from
the mountain and I could not in that case reach it in time to light the
midnight beacon. I lay in my ditch and I made a thousand plans, each
more dangerous than the last. And then suddenly I had that flash of
light which comes to the brave man who refuses to despair.
You remember I have mentioned that two waggons were loading up with
empty casks at the inn. The heads of the oxen were turned to the east,
and it was evident that those waggons were going in the direction which
I desired. Could I only conceal myself upon one of them, what better and
easier way could I find of passing through the lines of the guerillas?
So simple and so good was the plan that I could not restrain a cry
of delight as it crossed my mind, and I hurried away instantly in the
direction of the inn. There, from behind some bushes, I had a good look
at what was going on upon the road.
There were three peasants with red montero caps loading the barrels, and
they had completed one waggon and the lower tier of the other. A number
of empty barrels still lay outside the wine-house waiting to be put on.
Fortune was my friend--I have always said that she is a woman and cannot
resist a dashing young Hussar. As I watched, the three fellows went into
the inn, for the day was hot and they were thirsty after their labour.
Quick as a flash I darted out from my hiding-place, climbed on to the
waggon, and crept into one of the empty casks.
It had a bottom but no top, and it lay upon its side with the open end
inward. There I crouched like a dog in its kennel, my knees drawn up to
my chin, for the barrels were not very large and I am a well-grown man.
As I lay there, out came the three peasants again, and presently I heard
a crash upon the top of me which told that I had another barrel above
me. They piled them upon the cart until I could not imagine how I was
ever to get out again. However, it is time to think of crossing the
Vistula when you are over the Rhine, and I had no doubt that if chance
and my own wits had carried me so far they would carry me farther.
Soon, when the waggon was full, they set forth upon their way, and I
within my barrel chuckled at every step, for it was carrying me whither
I wished to go. We travelled slowly, and the peasants walked beside the
waggons.
This I knew, because I heard their voices close to me. They seemed to me
to be very merry fellows, for they laughed heartily as they went. What
the joke was I could not understand. Though I speak their language
fairly well I could not hear anything comic in the scraps of their
conversation which met my ear.
I reckoned that at the rate of walking of a team of oxen we covered
about two miles an hour. Therefore, when I was sure that two and a
half hours had passed--such hours, my friends, cramped, suffocated, and
nearly poisoned with the fumes of the lees--when they had passed, I was
sure that the dangerous open country was behind us, and that we were
upon the edge of the forest and the mountain. So now I had to turn my
mind upon how I was to get out of my barrel. I had thought of several
ways, and was balancing one against the other when the question was
decided for me in a very simple but unexpected manner.
The waggon stopped suddenly with a jerk, and I heard a number of gruff
voices in excited talk. “Where, where?” cried one. “On our cart,” said
another. “Who is he?” said a third. “A French officer; I saw his cap
and his boots.” They all roared with laughter. “I was looking out of the
window of the posada and I saw him spring into the cask like a toreador
with a Seville bull at his heels.” “Which cask, then?” “It was this
one,” said the fellow, and sure enough his fist struck the wood beside
my head.
What a situation, my friends, for a man of my standing!