CHAPTER XIX.

WE AGAIN ADVANCE INTO SPAIN.

Next morning at dawn we commenced our second campaign in Portugal. Crossing the Tagus, we continued our route through the Alemtejo, and arrived at Villaviciosa on the 10th. Here we joined our 2nd Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Abercrombie. It was the first meeting of the battalions since our separation at the Curragh of Kildare in 1805, and was very interesting. The old veterans of the 1st Battalion with measured phrase recounted their feats in Denmark, Sweden, Holland, Portugal and Spain, cunningly leaving many a space to be filled up by the warm imagination of their excited young auditors. On the other hand the gallant striplings of the 2nd Battalion, with that fervent and frank ingenuousness so inseparable from youth and so rare in advanced manhood, came at once to the bloody fight. They long and often dwelt upon the glorious battle of Albuera; they told of the Spaniards coming late; that Blake would neither lead nor follow; of brigades being cut up through the over-anxiety of their commanders; of colours being taken; in fine, of the battle being all but lost, until their brigade, commanded by their gallant Colonel Abercrombie, in conjunction with the brave Fusiliers, came up and by a combined and overwhelming charge bore down all opposition and tore away the palm of victory already twining round the enemy’s standard.

The two battalions had been so severely cut up, particularly at Barossa and Albuera, that one battalion alone remained efficient for service. All the men of the 2nd were transferred to the 1st. Their officers and sergeants returned to England; but since Colonel Belson was obliged to go home for the benefit of his health, Colonel Abercrombie was retained. And now, and contrary to my wishes, the colonel appointed me to the command of a battalion company; but he pledged himself that whenever the regiment should be about to come in contact with the enemy, I should have it at my option to join the light company.

We shortly afterwards removed to Portalegre, General Hill’s headquarters. Here we remained some time enjoying all the luxury of campaigning, inviting even to the most refined cockney, keenest sportsman, or most insatiable gourmand. Races were established, partridge-shooting was good, and General Hill kept a pack of foxhounds, and entertained liberally. He felt equally at home before a smoking round of beef or a red-hot marshal of France, and was as keen at unkennelling a Spanish fox as at starting a French general out of his sleep, and in either amusement was the foremost to cry, “Tally ho!” or, “There they go!” As his aide-de-camp, Captain Curry, was married, the amiable Mrs. Curry always dined at the general’s table, so that we neither forgot the deference due to beauty nor the polished manners of the drawing-room.

[Sidenote: ADVANCE OF GENERAL HILL.]

But a union of so many sources of happiness is transient in the life of a soldier. Towards the middle of October a division of the French 5th Corps, commanded by General Gerard, moved through Estremadura to collect forage and provisions for the army at Portugal, crossing the Guadiana at Merida, and approaching the Portuguese frontier near Caceres and Aliseda. In consequence the British troops marched out of Portalegre on the 22nd, and the head of our column reached Albuquerque in Spain on the evening of the 23rd. General Hill was here informed that the enemy had retired from Aliseda to Arroyo de Puerco, and that Aliseda was again in possession of the Spaniards. However, to secure that country, Aliseda was entered on the night of the 24th by a British brigade, some Portuguese artillery, and a portion of cavalry; whilst at Casa de Santillana, about four miles distant, a similar force was stationed. The enemy’s advanced guard were driven out of Arroyo de Puerco on the morning of the 25th by the Spanish cavalry, commanded by Count Penne Villamur; the fugitives moved upon Malpartida, their main body being still at Caceres. The British and Portuguese troops following the route of Villamur’s cavalry, after a forced march which continued throughout the night of the 25th, arrived on the morning of the 26th at Malpartida; and here we learned that the enemy had during the night moved upon Caceres. During this morning General Hill was informed that Gerard, with the main body of his troops, had moved from Caceres, but in what direction none could tell. In this uncertainty, together with the inclemency of the weather and the fatigue caused by our previous night’s forced march, the general judged it expedient to halt for the day. The Spaniards however moved on to Caceres. Towards night the general having received positive information that the French had directed their course upon Torremocha, we were put in motion at three o’clock on the morning of the 27th; but during our march we were informed that the foe had evacuated Torremocha that very morning, with the avowed intention of occupying the town of Arroyo Molinos for that night. All our information seemed to be at variance; yet all was perfectly correct. General Hill now bent his line of movement, and by a forced march arrived late that evening at Alcuescar, unperceived by the enemy. Both armies marched nearly in parallel lines during the greater part of the day, and not very far asunder; but intervening mountains and a thickly wooded country prevented each from seeing the other.

We now felt certain that the enemy, whom we had so ardently and arduously sought, were at length within our reach. Our advanced post was not above two miles from Arroyo Molinos, where Gerard rested in fancied security, flattering himself that he had deceived us by his movements, and that we were then at Caceres, toward which we had bent our course in the morning.

[Sidenote: AN ANXIOUS MISSION.]

On arriving at Alcuescar we were all excessively fatigued from our forced marches; but while we were pitching our tents and anticipating some repose, I received an order to proceed to San Antonio, between six and seven miles distant, to carry despatches to General Hamilton, who commanded a Portuguese brigade halted at that place. I strongly remonstrated, pointing out that during a halt of some hours by which the whole army gained some repose, I had been sent far into the country to collect information from the peasantry; that carrying this despatch did not fall to me as a regular tour of duty; and above all, that I felt excessively unwilling to proceed to the rear at that late hour, knowing that the army were to move during the night and would more than probably be engaged before the dawn. However all my remonstrances were vain. Lieutenant Bailey, then on the quarter-master-general’s staff (now commandant in the Island of Gozzo), told me that I was particularly selected by General Hill to carry the despatch; that his orders were peremptory; and that not a moment should be lost in communicating its important contents to General Hamilton. Bailey then read the despatch, which imported that, from the position which the British army occupied, the enemy could not possibly escape except through San Antonio. General Hamilton was therefore directed to place every car and cart in his possession, and everything which he could collect in the place, as an obstacle across the road, and in every way to impede the enemy’s progress, should they attempt to pass him during the night, and thus to give time to the British troops to come up on the first alarm. The despatch was read to me with the view that, should I be pursued by any French cavalry patrols, I should tear it, and if I fortunately escaped, deliver its contents verbally, or if I were driven out of my road, communicate its import in Spanish to any peasant I might meet, who could perhaps creep his way to San Antonio, although I should not be able to get there. I had an order from General Hill to the Spanish General, Giron, to furnish me with a party of dragoons. The Spanish general offered me three men when like Phocion I remarked that for the purpose of war they were too few and for any other purpose too many. I therefore took only one man, strongly recommended as a guide, and set off in very threatening weather for San Antonio.

Arriving there without any adventure and safely delivering my despatches, I immediately wheeled round to regain the camp, when, in addition to the lateness of the hour and the difficulty of finding my way through a dense forest, the darkened clouds suddenly burst and torrents of rain poured down, accompanied by a tempest of wind so furious as nearly to blow me off my horse. All traces of our route having disappeared, I called to the dragoon to go in front and point out the way, upon which he very coolly but respectfully replied that it was for the first time in his life he was there. My rage and consternation at this astounding declaration was such that I could have shot the fellow. I asked him how he could think of coming as a guide through a thick forest, and over ground with not one foot of which he was acquainted, beset too by the enemy’s patrols; and expressing my conviction that he must be a countryman of mine, I asked him if he were born in Ireland. The man replied that he was not selected as a guide; that he and the other dragoons, whom I had declined taking, were simply warned as an escort, but the word guide was never mentioned. As to his place of birth, he, after appropriate adjustment in his saddle and assuming true quixotic mien, announced himself a “Castillano puro”; but judge my mortification at his asking me, with simplicity apparently genuine, if Ireland was in Portugal! I indignantly darted my spurs into the flanks of my unoffending high-spirited Andalusian steed, which, although never attached to the commissariat, I had selected from the breed of Bucephalus or bullock-headed, still common in Andalusia, and remarkable for the bones which protrude above the eyes and resemble stumps of horns.

[Sidenote: A NIGHT ADVENTURE.]

We still moved forward and after wandering some time in the dark perceived a fire. This was cautiously approached. The dragoon, being in front, was challenged by a sentry, whom he declared to be French; and instantly turning we both galloped off. We were wandering to and fro, scarce knowing where we were; but the Sierra Montanchez, rearing its head high above the trees and appearing black amidst the dark clouds, prevented us at least from turning our backs to the place we sought, and warned us not to approach too near lest we should come upon the French army. Again we discovered a fire, which we conjectured to be that of a piquet. It rained torrents; the wind blew furiously tearing the trees from the roots. Troops of howling wolves stalked around; and although they sometimes passed nearly between our horses’ legs, we durst not fire even in our own defence, lest in so doing we should awaken the attention of a more formidable foe.

Soaked through with rain, not knowing where I was, I struck my repeater, which I never failed to carry, and found that the army would be in motion in little more than an hour and a half. I became desperate; I resolved at all hazard to ascertain our true position. With this determination I alighted, leaving my cloak on the saddle, since it was too heavy to support from the quantity of rain it had imbibed; my pistols I carried in my breast, to keep the locks dry. The Spaniard I prevailed upon to remain behind, between thirty and forty paces distant from the fire which burned in our front, with orders not to move unless he should hear a shot fired, when he should take it for certain that I was attacked; then he was to ride forward at full speed, taking care not to leave my horse behind. All thus arranged, with doubtful step I approached the fire. My preceding the dragoon arose neither from personal bravado nor from want of full confidence in the Spaniard, who, I felt convinced, would do his duty gallantly: in fact, I had some difficulty in prevailing upon him to remain behind; and he anxiously pleaded to accompany me, although he still felt offended at being taken for a Portuguese-Irishman. My taking the lead was in consequence of the haughty Castilian having been too proud to learn any language but his own; and I happened to have had a tolerably good acquaintance with the languages of the four nations whose troops were in the field, English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. Silently and cautiously I moved forward, until I arrived within a few yards of the fire; then lying down flat on the ground, and forming a kind of funnel with both hands close to the ground and laying my ear thereto, I now plainly heard words which I joyfully discovered to be Portuguese. Getting on my legs I approached the fire with confidence. A Portuguese sentry, lowering his bayonet, demanded who I was; this being soon explained, I holloaed out to Don Diego, the Spanish dragoon, who instantly galloped forward with his sabre drawn, but not forgetting my horse. Upon asking the Portuguese corporal, who commanded the piquet, where the English were encamped, I was much astonished at his replying, “Here.” I could discover no sign of an army or a camp, until moving forward about forty yards in the direction which the corporal indicated, I came upon the very spot upon which my own tent had been pitched. Here I found Lieutenant Huddleston, of the company, lying under the folds of the tent, which had been blown down. I asked the cause of the darkness which reigned around and which was the chief cause of my wandering for some hours close to the army without being able to discover it. He told me that immediately after my departure a general order was issued that not a light should be lit, except one in the commissariat tent, and that only while they served out an additional allowance of rum, granted in consequence of our long march and the dreadful state of the weather; and that the furious tempest, which I must have encountered in the forest, blew down almost every tent, which added to the obscurity.

[Sidenote: A SILENT CAMP.]

I had still upwards of two miles to ride through incessant wind and rain to reach the village of Alcuescar, where the generals took up their quarters with the light companies of the division and some Spanish cavalry. Immediately on arriving there I reported to General Hill my having executed the duty with which I was entrusted. This report I made through Captain Clement Hill, the general’s brother and aide-de-camp. He told me that the general felt excessively well pleased at my having succeeded, wondered at my having returned so soon, or at all, in such dreadful weather, and directed that I should not depart until I had dined (rather a fashionable hour, past one in the morning), adding with his usual urbanity that he regretted not being able to see me, as he was engaged with two Spaniards, who were making communications of a very important nature.

Having swallowed some cold roast beef and a tumbler of port, I retired to the next house, where fortunately the light company of the 28th Regiment were stationed. Here I procured food for my wearied horse; but, although steeped with rain, I could make no change in my dress, my baggage being upwards of two miles in the rear, where the regiment were encamped. Change of stockings I could procure, but my boots teeming with water I durst not take off, knowing that I should not be able to draw them on again.

Shortly afterwards the army from the camp came up and joined us. Company states being collected, the adjutant told me that the colonel remarked that No. 1--the company to which I had been attached--was not signed by me. I had previously fallen in with the light company. I immediately signed the state and fell in with the battalion company. I perceived that the colonel rather avoided me.

[Sidenote: AGAIN WITH THE LIGHT COMPANY.]

All being prepared, the light companies of the brigade were ordered to advance. I could restrain my feelings no longer, and went to the colonel, reminding him of the promise which he made when I was unwillingly appointed to the command of a battalion company in Portugal; and repeated what I then said, that since October 14th, 1808 (the day we marched from Lisbon under Sir John Moore), to the present time the light company, although they had been innumerable times in fight, had never fired a shot nor seen a shot fired when I was not present, and I trusted that I should not now be left behind. “Oh! there it is, Mr. Blakeney--every one wishes to leave me. You are more respectable commanding a company with the regiment than 2nd in a company detached.” Being rather hurt at the (for the first time) cool manner in which he addressed me, I merely bowed and said that with whatever company I was ordered to serve I hoped to be able to do my duty. The colonel rode away, but immediately returned and said: “Blakeney, I very well recollect my promise, but thought you would never mention it. I wished to have you near myself. However I now speak to you as your friend: do as you please; either join the light company or remain, but do not hereafter say that I marred your prospects, which on the contrary I pledge you my honour I would most willingly advance.” Encouraged by the colonel’s friendly and sincere manner, as well as by the kind regards which he always showed towards me, I felt emboldened to express my sentiments freely; and although I held Colonel Abercrombie in the highest estimation, as indeed did every officer in the regiment, I told him candidly that I wished to join the light company. Shaking me cordially by the hand, “God bless you, my honest fellow!” said he, “and may every success attend you.” Another officer was appointed to command the battalion company; and mounting my horse I soon overtook the light bobs, who greeted me with a cheer, saying that they knew Mr. Blakeney would not remain behind. This anecdote, in itself of no consequence, I introduce, as it gives me an opportunity of doing justice to the noble feelings of the gallant generous Colonel Abercrombie, of whose disinterested friendship I soon had a still stronger proof.