Part 3

You will have heard of our glorious defence against the usurper. We shall not grudge our sufferings if the example of Saragossa do give heart to the other great cities of my poor country so distracted. For she will need indeed all her strength, all her courage, all her heroism, in the storm which is now to burst upon her. Alas! I can no longer hope to be of any service; my strength fails fast; I am old; I die. For myself, I do not repine, but I am full of fear and trouble for the safety of my poor Juanita, the little playmate whom I am sure you will not have forgotten quite. I have done my all to provide for her, but who can see through the clouds of war? We know not what may come in a day. And the danger is not to be feared only from the outside. In a letter to your father I have told him of what I have done. One thing is needed to finish the things I tell him, and that is in the six words--mark you--Palafox the Man, Palafox the Name. I beg you commit these words to memory, and burn this letter the moment after you have read it.

I hope I may yet see you again before I die, but if it is not so be, I say God bless you, and write myself for the last time

Your old friend, FERNAN ALVAREZ.

_P.S._--Remember always: Palafox the Man, Palafox the Name.

"Palafox the man, Palafox the name!" said Jack half aloud. "What does he mean? Did General Palafox send a message with this, sir?"

"No. I understood that the writer was a friend of his and yours."

"He is a friend of mine. He is my father's partner. But I don't understand the letter. It appears to hint at something which he does not care to express clearly. And he speaks of a letter to my father. Have you that too?"

"No; I know nothing about that."

"Then it is probably with Don Fernan's agents in Madrid. But I am forgetting to thank you. Really, sir, it was very good of you to undertake this private errand when you must have been engrossed in public affairs. We were just going to have supper; will you honour us by joining our mess?"

"I am very tired, and not at all in company trim; in fact, I had just declined a similar invitation from Sir John; but--"

"You will, then? I am very glad. We will not keep you late."

"I must first go and give a coin to the boy who showed me the way here--a little gipsy fellow who said he knew you."

"Pepito! Let me deal with him, Mr. Vaughan; he has an extraordinary knack of turning up just when he can make himself useful. You'll find a towel there; I'll go and settle with Pepito, and you will follow me, won't you? Our fellows will be delighted to meet you."

And Jack left his visitor to his ablutions.

There was much curiosity among the subalterns as to the identity of Jack's visitor and the subject of their private interview; but Jack volunteered no information, merely telling them, as he passed through the room on his way to find Pepito, that Mr. Vaughan would join them at supper.

"So you boys will have to mind your p's and q's," said Captain O'Hare. "No antics now. Some of these politicals are very starchy."

Consequently it was a quiet group to whom, in a few minutes, Mr. Vaughan was introduced. They were all hungry, and Jack apologized for the plainness of the fare.

"You see, sir," he said, "Sataro, our Portuguese contractor, has failed, and we all have to get what food we can."

"You won't find me fastidious," replied Vaughan. "I could almost eat my boots, I think."

"Mr. Vaughan has just ridden five hundred miles on end," explained Jack.

"By George!" exclaimed Dugdale.

"Five hundred, bedad!" said Captain O'Hare. "If they were like the miles round Salamanca, sure you must have come through a power of mud!"

"How long did it take you, sir?" asked Shirley.

"Six days."

There was a cry of astonishment.

"Gad, that beats Bagster of Trinity!" said Dugdale. "Backed himself to ride sixty miles and eat sixty oysters in a hundred and sixty minutes; lost by six oysters, and always vowed he could ha' done that if the vinegar hadn't run short!"

There was a general laugh.

"I could have done with the oysters--even the six," said Vaughan, who was tickled by Dugdale's whole-hearted enjoyment of his recollection.

"And why did you pelt along so terrible hard, may I ask, Mr. Vaughan?" said the captain.

"It'll be common property to-morrow, so I may as well tell you. I have been for some time with the staff of General Palafox in Aragon. Six days ago General Castanos was totally defeated at Tudela."

"Good heavens!" cried Pomeroy; "another defeat! It was quite time we turned up to help the Dons."

"What a cowardly crew!" added Smith. "They run at the sound of their own guns. Bang! whizz! and Vamos, they cry, which Lumsden will tell you means: 'Let us skedaddle'."

"We mustn't be too hard on them," said Mr. Vaughan quietly. "They used to fight well, by all accounts. There were good men in Alva's time--not to go back any further. All they want is proper leading. Their generals happen to be no match for the French marshals, and unlucky to boot. A little British discipline would work wonders. Well, as I happened to be with the Spanish army, I rode off to Madrid at once with the news, and our minister there sent me off with despatches to Sir John."

"Lucky you were on the spot, sir," said Smith, "or we might have waited till doomsday. The villainous way we are served with intelligence is the common talk of the army."

"I judged as much. The fact is, the Spaniards think they can do the whole thing unaided; you gentlemen are mere interlopers. They'd like to have the French all to themselves."

"Well, they've had a lesson at Tudela," said Pomeroy. "Who had the presumption to beat them there? Was it Marshal Ney?"

"No, a Marshal Lannes. It's rather curious how he managed to take the command, seeing that as he rode across the mountains a fortnight ago his horse fell with him over a precipice, and every bone in his body appeared to be broken. But a clever surgeon named Larrey mended him in some ten days--how do you think? He stitched him up in the skin of a newly-flayed sheep!"

"A wolf," said Shirley, "a wolf in sheep's clothing; and the British dogs of war'll soon be at him."

"How does this defeat affect us, sir?" asked Jack.

"That depends on how the French follow it up. Bonaparte may--"

"Oh, I say, sir," cried Dugdale excitedly, "is old Boney himself in Spain?"

"Didn't you know? He crossed the border three weeks ago. He may swoop down on Madrid, for, except Heredia and San Juan, there seems to be nobody to bar his way."

"Bedad, sir, but there's a certain General Sir John Moore, to say nothing of the 95th," said Captain O'Hare with a laugh; "though, to be sure, 'twas Soult we were to tackle first."

"Won't this defeat bring the French on our flank?" asked Smith, already showing the strategical perception that distinguished the victor of Aliwal.

"It certainly seems likely. I found Sir John terribly distressed at his imperfect knowledge of the French position, and at the sluggishness of the Spaniards. The proud Dons seem to have no plans, and to be perfectly content to drift along. But that won't do against soldiers like Bonaparte and his marshals."

"Do you know how many the French number, all told?" asked Jack.

"I don't, and I'm sure no Spaniard does. I heard 80,000 given as one estimate, but I shall be much surprised if the total is not much larger than that."

"Whew!" exclaimed Dugdale. "And we've only a few thousand here at any rate. What's the odds! an Englishman was always worth ten Frenchmen, and I don't care if Boney comes with a million."

"I admire your confidence and spirit, Mr. Dugdale," said Vaughan dryly.

"Though I'm hanged if I know what we're fighting Boney in Spain for," added Dugdale. "Not that that matters."

"Indeed, but it matters a terrible deal," said Captain O'Hare earnestly. "We've crossed the mighty ocean--and mighty unpleasant it was, bedad!--to help a disthressed and downtrodden people; and sure 'tis we Irishmen can feel for the like o' them."

Dugdale, feeling out of his depth, was silent for a time while the conversation took a more serious tone, and turned on the chain of events which had led to the presence of the British army in Spain.

It was fifteen years since a little Corsican officer of artillery, named Napoleon Bonaparte, had first drawn attention to himself by his clever work at the siege of Toulon. In that time he had made himself Emperor of the French and dictator of Europe, and become one of the greatest figures in universal history. His ambition was insatiable and hitherto his success had been stupendous. Within a few years he had subdued Austria, humbled Prussia, hoaxed Russia, and plundered Italy. Alone of the nations, England had checked his series of triumphs by her victories at the Nile and Trafalgar; but even in England his name was held by the more timorous in awe, and caricatures represented him as a voracious ogre who made his meals of little children. He longed to have England also at his feet--a longing only intensified by the success with which she had hitherto defied his efforts cripple her trade.

Before he could subdue England, however, Bonaparte saw the necessity of adding Spain and Portugal to his tale of victims. Portugal was our ally, and he gave her the choice between breaking with us and fighting France. She held to her alliance, and was promptly overrun with French troops. Having crippled Portugal, he turned his attention to Spain. In that country the old King Charles had allowed the government to fall into the hands of his unscrupulous minister Godoy, who was universally detested. The greater part of the nation wished the king to abdicate in favour of his son Ferdinand, with whom he was constantly quarrelling. Taking advantage of these dissensions, Napoleon sent a French force to Madrid, with the intention, as the Spaniards believed, of supporting Ferdinand. But both Charles and Ferdinand were summoned to meet Napoleon at Bayonne; there they were in turn tricked into resigning the sovereignty, which the emperor at once bestowed on his brother Joseph. This was the signal for a great national rising, the first which Napoleon had yet encountered. The Spaniards were proud, high-spirited, and independent, and refused tamely to submit to this arbitrary interference with their affairs. In all parts of the country they proclaimed Ferdinand king, and when Napoleon poured his troops in an endless stream across the Pyrenees, their eyes turned to England as their only stand-by, and to England they sent for help. A British army under Sir Arthur Wellesley landed in Portugal, and defeated Marshal Junot at the battle of Vimeiro; but, ere the victory could be completed and followed up, the chief command was assumed in succession by Sir Harry Burrard and Sir Hew Dalrymple, who came out within a few days of one another. To Wellesley's disgust, they allowed the French, by the Convention of Cintra, to withdraw from Portugal with the honours of war. But their action aroused intense indignation at home; they were recalled, with Wellesley, to appear before a court of enquiry, and Sir John Moore was unexpectedly placed in command.

Meanwhile the French forces in the Peninsula had been continually increasing; the regular armies of Spain had been beaten on all sides; and instead of meeting, as he had expected, large forces, well equipped at English expense, ready to co-operate with him, Sir John found that he had to defend the Portuguese frontier and undertake offensive operations almost single-handed against a victorious enemy many times outnumbering his own army. Immense sums of money and stores of all kinds had been given to Spain by the British Government, but owing to the corruption of the Spanish officials, and the want of any real governing authority, the gift was virtually wasted. The Juntas, or committees, which had undertaken the government of the various provinces, were all acting, or rather talking of acting, independently, and were strangely blind to their deadly peril. They appeared to regard England as an unfailing source of money and arms, and in some cases actually resented the arrival of British troops, in a sort of blind confidence that they were able unaided to withstand the invader.

Mr. Vaughan had seen something of this during his stay with General Castanos, and his account of what had come under his own eyes kept his hosts interested to a late hour. At length he rose.

"I am very tired," he said, "and as I expect to have to ride again to-morrow, I know you gentlemen will excuse me for leaving you. Many thanks for your hospitality, and may we meet again!"

"I will see you to your quarters," said Jack. "Where are you staying?"

"At an inn in the Plaza Santo Tome. I shall be glad of your company, if the hour is not too late."

When Jack returned, half an hour afterwards, his man Giles handed him a note which had been left at the house by an orderly during his absence.

"The commander-in-chief", it ran, "presents his compliments to Mr. Lumsden, and will be glad to see him at his quarters at nine o'clock to-morrow morning."

"Another letter," said Jack to himself; "and almost as mysterious as the first. I wonder what it can mean!"

He read the note again, but finding himself unable to make any inference from the few simple words, he wisely resolved to allow the morning to bring its own solution. In the few moments that elapsed between his laying his head on the pillow and falling asleep, his mind see-sawed between the two letters. Now it was Sir John Moore's that was uppermost, now Don Fernan's; breaking the darkness of his room he seemed to see the phrases, one above the other, in letters of fire: "At nine o'clock to-morrow morning"--"Palafox the Man, Palafox the Name".

*CHAPTER IV*

*A Delicate Mission*

Sir John Moore--In the Dark--A Roving Commission--Maps and Plans--Camp Critics--An Hidalgo--Mystification--Exasperation--Pepito again--A Bargain--Force majeure

At nine o'clock next day Jack made his way through a crowd of officers congregated about the door of the archbishop's palace, where Sir John Moore was quartered. It seemed to be nobody's business to show him up, so he discovered for himself the room in which the commander-in-chief was, as he supposed, awaiting him. Entering at the door, and lifting a heavy velvet curtain that hung within, he found himself in a large chamber, at the other end of which stood a group of officers engaged in what was evidently a very animated discussion. He noticed the tall, handsome figure of General Sir Edward Paget, the commander of the reserve; near him was General Anstruther, a rugged, untiring Scot; in the centre of the group was Sydney Beckwith, Jack's own colonel, rough of tongue and unsparing in his demands on his men, but withal kind of heart and true as steel. He was at this moment eagerly pointing to a map which lay outspread on a table, over which bent several other officers, among them the commander-in-chief himself. Fine men as were all the soldiers gathered there, Sir John Moore was easily first among them. At this time forty-seven years of age, his tall graceful figure, crowned by a head nobly fashioned, with classic features, large lustrous eyes, and bright close-clustering hair, would have marked him out in any crowd as one above the generality of men. He was listening intently to what Colonel Beckwith said. His lips were firmly compressed; every now and then the fingers of his right hand restlessly tattooed upon the table. Suddenly he straightened himself and moved backward a pace; the hubbub of conversation ceased, and in the silence Jack heard, in Moore's clear and measured tones, the following words:

"Excuse me, gentlemen, I take the whole responsibility of my decision; and I only expect my officers to prepare to carry it into effect."

There was sternness, even a touch of irritation, in his accent. "There's something wrong," thought Jack; "I've no business here; I'd better make myself scarce."

He withdrew into the corridor, and began to walk up and down, with that curious feeling of excitement which takes hold of a boy when waiting for an interview on some unknown matter with his head-master. In a few minutes the officers left the room in a body, still talking with animation, and passed down the corridor, away from Jack, towards the street. Judging that Sir John was now alone, Jack returned to the room. The general was pacing the floor with long steps, his hands clasped behind him, his head bent forward in anxious thought. Jack hesitated a moment; then stepped forward. Sir John looked up, and stood with legs apart, evidently not for the moment recognizing his visitor. Then his brow cleared; his features softened in the kindly smile for which he was celebrated.

"Ah! Mr. Lumsden, I think," he said; "I am glad to see you. I fear I have kept you waiting. Yes, I see it is twenty minutes past the hour. Let me waste no time, then. Sit down at the table there."

Sir John seated himself at the opposite side of the table, gave the lad one quick glance, and said:

"Without beating about the bush, are you willing, Mr. Lumsden, to undertake an important and possibly dangerous mission?"

"Certainly, sir."

The answer came without a moment's hesitation, and the general seemed pleased. Then, observing a look of surprise on Jack's face, he went on:

"You wonder at my selecting you? I happened to overhear yesterday an eloquent address in Spanish by an officer of the 95th, and when I came to enquire of Colonel Beckwith, he told me that Mr. Lumsden's knowledge of Spanish had already proved useful. That is how it happened, Mr. Lumsden."

He gave the young officer a friendly smile, and Jack's cheeks flushed with pleasure as the general continued:

"You are the man I've been looking for. What I want you to do is out of your regular duty, but then a knowledge of Spanish is out of the usual officer's acquirements, more's the pity. Do you know French also?"

"A little, sir; just well enough to understand what is said and to make a shift to reply."

"That's well. Now I suppose you have some sort of notion of what my intentions were in marching from Lisbon, eh?"

"We've talked it over at mess, sir," said Jack with a smile.

"Naturally. Well, if you're to be of use to me, and I think you will be, I must take you into my confidence. What I want, Mr. Lumsden, is information--information that I can rely on." At this point he rose from his chair and resumed his restless pacing to and fro. "I started to join forces with the Spaniards, but they haven't put themselves into communication with me. I don't know their plans; I don't know what their Government is aiming at. I am in entire ignorance of the numbers or the situation of the enemy. The Spaniards seem to be living in a fools' paradise; talk very big about their own armies, and very small about the enemy; keep us short of supplies, and shorter still of news. I do know that a fortnight ago General Blake's Spanish army in the north was beaten, and now a Mr. Vaughan has brought me news that General Castanos has been routed at Tudela; which means that his co-operation with me is out of the question. Do you see what I am driving at?"

"You mean, I think, sir, that as the Spaniards are beaten, the French are free to attack you."

"Precisely. Now follow the positions on the map here and you will see more clearly what I want of you. Here am I at Salamanca; Sir John Hope, with the cavalry and guns, is marching to join me by Talavera and the Escurial--a roundabout route, you see, and a long march that might have been avoided if I could have been sure the mountain roads were passable for wheeled transport. All the guns might have come by Guarda and saved a hundred miles; but the Portuguese engineers assured me the road was too difficult. Farther north there is another division under Sir David Baird, who landed recently at Corunna, and is now at Astorga. You see the positions?"

"Yes, sir; of course your idea was to join."

"Exactly. But now you see that I dare not attempt a junction with Sir David. As long as General Castanos' army remained, there was a hope, but now that all the Spanish armies are beaten, the French are free to march against us. Their numbers, I believe, very much exceed my own, so that if they get between me and Sir David we shall be in an awkward hole. And therefore I have determined to retreat."

Jack opened his eyes. A retreat had never entered into his imagination. He understood now what had been the subject of discussion at nine o'clock, and suspected from the general attitude of the officers, and from the few words he had heard, that the decision to withdraw without firing a shot did not meet with the approval of the staff.

"I have already sent orders to Sir John Hope," Moore went on, "to retire by way of Penaranda and Ciudad Rodrigo, and Mr. Vaughan has been good enough to offer to carry a letter to Sir David Baird ordering him to re-embark at Corunna, and land his division at Lisbon. God knows I would have run great risks to help the Spanish cause, but the Spaniards have shown so little ability to do anything for themselves that I should only sacrifice my army, and do no good to Spain, if I attempted the impossible."

The look of anxiety and worry had returned to Sir John's face. It cleared, however, in a moment, and he continued brightly: "Now, Mr. Lumsden, you see the position. The questions are: Where is the enemy? and What is he going to do? The French were, a fortnight ago, at Valladolid; if they go north-west in force they will come across Sir David's division; if they come south, and are reinforced by the French from Tudela, they will threaten Sir John Hope's flank, and I must then do something to relieve the pressure. But any movement on my part would disclose my position and strength to the enemy, who, I hope and believe, at present know nothing about me. What I want then, Mr. Lumsden, is exact information of the enemy's whereabouts and numbers, and I think that you, with your mastery of Spanish, are the most likely officer to obtain it."

"I am ready to start at once, sir," said Jack.

"That's right. If you're the fellow I take you for, you won't want any further instructions from me. What means you use I must leave to your own discretion. I'll supply you with anything you require; money in moderation. I am terribly hard up; our Government showers gold on the Spaniards, but can't afford to pay my army. Now, before we settle the matter, it is only fair to warn you of the danger you run. If you are caught by the French within what they claim to be their lines, you'll be shot, as sure as eggs is eggs. Think of it then; you have free choice. Will you go?"

"I'll take the risk, sir," replied Jack instantly.

"It is confidential, of course," added the general. "You will report direct to me what information you obtain, or, in my absence, to one of my aides-de-camp or to General Paget."

"I am at liberty to employ messengers?"

"Certainly, but you will satisfy yourself that they are trustworthy."

"And may I have a map?"

"Of course. We haven't too many, and they are not particularly good, but send your man, and I will have one looked out within an hour. How long will it take you to make your preparations?"

"Not a minute longer than is necessary to get a Spanish dress and requisition a mule," answered Jack with a smile.

"You'll make a presentable Spaniard," said Moore, smiling back. "But wouldn't a horse serve you better than a mule? You were riding a good mount yesterday."

"A horse would attract too much attention, I think, sir. And I was used to riding mules when I was young."

Sir John laughed.