CHAPTER XV.

WE ENTERTAIN RIGHT ROYALLY AT TARIFA.

On the day following that upon which we returned to Tarifa I was sent to Gibraltar with despatches giving an account of our late movements to the lieutenant-governor, who was much pleased with the conduct of the regiment in general, but particularly with that of Colonel Browne for the determined and judicious manner in which he conducted the whole of the operations, as was fully testified by General Beguines in a despatch written to General Campbell on the subject.

Rather excited than depressed by the failure of the intended sortie from Cadiz, General Graham, the resources of whose mind multiplied in proportion as difficulties appeared, still insisted not only on the local advantages to be gained by a sortie before Soult should return with reinforcements, but also that to boldly march out from the strongest hold in Spain and undauntedly maintain the war in the open field would inspire the nation with confidence and stimulate the whole population to the deeds of national glory which Spaniards were wont to perform. He contended that with such sentiments properly directed the Spaniards alone were an overmatch for any invading nation, and would shortly succeed in freeing their country and driving every Frenchman in Spain down the northern side of the Pyrenees. These arguments could not be opposed even by General La Peña, who opposed everything except the enemy. It was therefore arranged that seven thousand Spaniards and three thousand British troops should embark at Cadiz and sailing to Tarifa there descend, since that was the nearest place which the allies possessed in rear of the enemy’s lines. To facilitate this enterprise General Graham made a sacrifice not easily paralleled. He ceded the chief command to his ally, thus patriotically giving up the certainty of personal fame as a leader for the honour of his country’s arms and the prosperity of the general cause; and such was the confidence he felt in the valour of the British troops under his command and in the happy results, if La Peña would only do his duty towards his country, or do anything except what was glaringly wrong, that he condescended to serve under the Spanish general, and that too against the opinion of Lord Wellington, who recommended him never to move out of Cadiz to execute any movement except in chief command. The duke well knew by dearly bought experience of what leaven Spanish generals were moulded. He knew that it required the utmost exertions of a British general to persuade those of Spain to save their own corps, without calculating on more. Of this Cuesta gave convincing proof by his movements before the battle of Talavera, by his inertness and incapacity while the battle raged and above all by his disgraceful conduct after the battle was fought, on account of which his lordship felt compelled for the safety of his own troops to separate from the Spanish army, bidding them farewell with feelings of respect for the gallant soldiers, of contempt for the vanity and ignorance of their commanders, and of distrust of the government who would have devoted their allies and compromised the honour and independence of their country for personal ambition and mean self-interested motives. Spanish character in the different branches was discovered rather too late for his advantage by Sir John Moore, who portrayed it in its true colours for the information of His Majesty’s counsellors and the guidance of his successors in Spain.

It was now agreed that Generals La Peña and Graham should march immediately after disembarkation against the rear of the enemy’s lines, force a passage to the continental bank of the Santi Petri River, and by dislodging the French from the posts which they there occupied cover the construction of the bridge and the sortie from the Isla de Leon. The Spanish general, Zayas, who was appointed to the command at Cadiz during La Peña’s absence, was directed to second the project if the opportune moment should arrive.

[Sidenote: GRAHAM SAILS FROM CADIZ.]

All being now ready, General Graham with the British troops sailed from Cadiz on February 21st for Tarifa. This place presenting only a roadstead and the wind blowing fresh on the 22nd, when the general came before it, a descent was found impracticable, and he therefore proceeded to Algesiras, where he landed, and marching over an excessively bad road arrived on the evening of the 23rd at Tarifa. The weather continuing boisterous, the troops halted to await the Spaniards; and Major Duncan’s brigade of guns, which had been disembarked at Algesiras, had to be put on board again and brought by water to Tarifa on account of the state of the road, over which a wheelbarrow could not be rolled without disaster.

At Tarifa the 28th Regiment were garrisoned under the command of Colonel Belson, who had rejoined a few days previously from England. General Graham being well acquainted with the old corps, particularly during the campaign of Sir John Moore, requested General Campbell’s leave to lead it during the expedition, which was granted; but the lieutenant-governor, not forgetting Colonel Browne’s eminent services during his long command at Tarifa under many critical circumstances, sent the flank companies of the 9th and 82nd Regiments from Gibraltar, which, together with those of the 28th Regiment, were to be placed under the command of Colonel Browne, thus giving him an independent flank battalion, subject to no orders but those coming direct from General Graham.

[Sidenote: GUESTS GALORE.]

During the few days which the British troops spent at Tarifa our time was passed in that jovial conviviality always to be observed among British soldiers on the opening of a campaign. This formed a remarkable era in the history of the 28th Regiment, never equalled in any other corps. They formed the proper garrison of Tarifa, and having been quartered there for some time were the only regiment which had an established mess. The town furnished but one posada, or inn if it may be so called; and this afforded but little accommodation to so large a concourse as that now assembled. Upwards of a hundred and fifty officers dined at our mess daily; those of the regiment, together with those of the flank companies sent from Gibraltar, who were of course honorary members, amounted to nearly fifty, for the officers of the 28th Regiment, never being much addicted to depôt duty, always mustered strong at headquarters.

Our mess-room was very spacious, and at either end was a room which entered into it; not only these three, but in fact every room in the house, had tables put down; and many there were who felt glad to procure a dinner even in the kitchen. The draught on our cellar was deep, and profiting by the experience of the first day of the jubilee, on the second day, the 24th, we passed a restriction act limiting each officer to a pint of port and half a bottle of claret; but notwithstanding this precaution, we ran a pipe of port dry in less than four days. Porter and brandy, being easily procured, were not subject to restriction; a great part of these was disposed of in the kitchen and the small rooms by the mess-man as his private speculation. It was calculated that, including port claret brandy and porter, two thousand bottles were emptied in our mess-house within the week. Our wine accounts, as must be evident under such circumstances, were much confused and difficult to keep, since it was no easy matter to ascertain with whom each visitor had dined. The mess waiter was sent round daily to ascertain this fact, so necessary for the guidance of the wine committee. Discrepancies not unfrequently occurred between the highly favoured host and the too obliging guest. I recollect the mess waiter telling Colonel Belson one day that Lieutenant-Colonel A----n said he dined with him, upon which Belson remarked to the guest, loud enough to be heard by many, “A----n, you do not dine with me.” The other very humorously replied, “Oh, I beg pardon--I made a mistake; now I recollect, it was for to-morrow I was engaged to you.” “There you are mistaken again,” said Belson; “it was for yesterday, when you did not forget.” These circumstances I recollect well, as I happened to be president of the mess for that week. Colonel Belson would not allow me to cede the chair, and always sat on my left hand. Our mess-man, a sergeant of the regiment named Farrel, although he piqued himself on an acquaintance with algebra, yet with all the aid of the assumed numbers, A B C, could never discover the unknown quantities consumed. He went into the field at Barossa, but was never heard of afterwards. Among the slain he was not; and, enquiries being made at the French headquarters, he was not one of the few prisoners taken with a part of our baggage which fell into the hands of the enemy previous to the commencement of the action, “when the Spaniards in their way lived to fight another day.” It is more than probable that in the annals of warfare no regiment has ever had an opportunity of enjoying themselves to such an extent as the 28th Regiment while General Graham’s army remained at Tarifa. We were happy to see our friends, who, to do them justice, waiving all ceremony showed us extraordinary attention.

Even the sergeants contrived to procure a room, where they enjoyed themselves as much as the officers in the mess-room; and their jokes, if not equally refined, were not the less entertaining. Being a member of the mess committee, my avocations obliged me to keep a vigilant look-out through all parts of the house, which gave me an opportunity of hearing unobserved many of the jests and repartees which took place in the sergeants’ room, or debating society, as it was termed. But although these were at times rather sharp, still perfect good-humour prevailed throughout. The principal spokesmen, if my memory fail not, were a Sergeant Turnbull of the Guards, and a Sergeant O’Brien, of the 87th Regiment. They were most determined opponents, and each had a bigoted attachment to his own country, in support of which he poured forth witty and pungent repartees to the great entertainment of the auditors.

On one occasion, while I was on my way to our cellar, which was fast falling into consumption, my steps were arrested by loud bursts of laughter issuing from the debating-room. The first words which I distinctly heard were, “O, O, O! You are all ‘O’s’ in Ireland!”

[Sidenote: SERGEANTS IN DEBATE.]

This remark evidently came from the Guardsman, when O’Brien drily replied, “‘O’ means ‘from,’ or ‘the descendant of’; therefore I am not surprised at its being ridiculed by persons of your country, where long line of descent is so difficult to be traced.”

“And pray, Mr. O, from whom are you descended?”

“From Bryan Boro, the Great Boro.”

“And surely ‘Boro’ must be a corruption of the Spanish word ‘Burro,’ which signifies ‘an ass’?”

Then Pat grew eloquent on the deeds of his great ancestor, who at the age of eighty gained a most glorious victory over the invading Danes on the celebrated plains of Clontarf. Equally eloquent was he also on the demerits of the Englishmen of that ancient time, until cried out the British sergeant with a fine scorn:

“I like to hear a fellow of your kind, with your beggarly Irish pride, talking of records and historical facts! Look to the history of your own country to learn its disgrace. What have you ever done or achieved except through murders, robbery, cruelty, bloodshed and treachery? Have you not always been fighting amongst yourselves, or against your masters, since we did you the honour of conquering you?”

“If we compare notes about murder and treachery, you need not fear being left in the background,” retorted the Irishman; “and as to the honour of being conquered, faith! I cannot cope with you in your dignities there, for I cannot deny that you have been honoured in that way by Romans, and by Danes, and by Saxons, and by Picts, and by Scots.”

“Your arguments,” at last said the Englishman, after some further exchange of historical fragments, “might pass without contempt had they not been delivered with such a disgusting brogue. I should recommend you to go back again to some charity school--I mean, in England.”

“If I intended to go to a charity school, it should certainly be in England. In my country it is only the destitute who go; but in yours it is the rich men who send their sons on to the ‘foundations’ of the public schools which were originally intended for the education of poor clergymen’s sons. With respect to my brogue, which you civilly term disgusting, it is our national accent and not disgusting to native ears, although to us the language is foreign. But I should like to know with what accent your countrymen spoke bastard French when it was crammed down their throats with a rod of iron for upwards of three hundred years?”

“A language does not go down the throat,” said the Englishman; “it comes up, at least in every other country except Ireland. I make you a present of the bull, although there is no necessity for the donation, for all bulls are Irish.”

“How are all bulls Irish?”

“Because England, your mother-country, has ceded all bulls to you as being legitimately Irish.”

“I don’t understand how you make out England to be our mother-country. Step-mother is the proper term to give her; and, faith! a true step-mother she has proved herself to be.”

Thus raged the fight amid the laughter and encouragement of the hearers, until, being president of the mess, I was reluctantly obliged to return to the mess-room.

During the stay of the British army at Tarifa strong working parties were constantly employed in levelling the roads, which the French engineers had frequently reported impassable for artillery; however, profiting by our exertions in the present instance, they subsequently brought guns against Tarifa.

The stormy weather having somewhat abated, the second division of the fleet, laden with La Peña and seven thousand Spaniards, arrived off Tarifa on the morning of the 27th. It still blew fresh; but owing to the indefatigable exertions of the navy the astonished Spaniards found themselves all disembarked before the evening. Again they were startled at the activity of the British general, who would have marched that night. The forward state in which the British were induced the Spaniards to proclaim their army also in movable condition. La Peña and his troops thus prepared and the roads made passable for artillery, the march was announced for the morrow.

[Sidenote: JOVIAL PRELUDE TO WAR.]

The night of the 27th being the last jovial one the army were to pass at Tarifa, one hundred and ninety-one officers dined at the mess. The exhilarating juice of the grape was freely quaffed from out the crystal cup, and the inspiring songs of love and war went joyfully round, and the conclusion of each animating strophe was loudly hailed with choral cheers; for such is the composition of a soldier that the object of his love and his country’s foe alike call forth the strongest and most indomitable effusions of his heart, so closely allied is love to battle. Hilarity and mirth reigned throughout. Lively sallies of wit cheerfully received as guilelessly shot forth added brilliancy to the festive board. Officers having entered their profession young, mutual attachment was firmly cemented, genuine and disinterested. Each man felt sure that he sat between two friends; worldly considerations, beyond legitimate pleasures and professional ambition, were banished from our thoughts. The field of glory was present to our view and equally open to all; none meanly envied the proud distinctions which chance of war fortunately threw in the way of others. Oh, what an odious change I have lived to witness! But the days of our youth are the days of our friendship, our love and our glory. A fig for the friendship commenced after the age of sixteen or seventeen, when the cool, calculating and sordid speculations of man suffocate the fervid and generous feelings of youth!