Part 9

N.W. Tossing ten at night. God send a good passage. Forty-two sail, including the convoy.

_August 10, Wednesday._--Off. St. Albans barely in sight. Foul wind. At the old work--toss, tack, toss, toss, tack toss, toss tack. Stercoraceous smells under my berth; porter used to be stored there; a chance fracture stains the straw and accounts for it.

_August 12._--A very numerous fleet under the land, sailing up Channel. Breeze freshens. Cool dry weather. An Italian tailor told me to-day that the English have good pay, but that in five weeks in London he spent all he had gained in the rest of the year. When mirth sat in the heart and money lay in the pocket he could not resist it, he said; and what with dances, coaches, dresses, and feasts, guineas flew out like dust, and he was forced to come to sea again!

Breeze increased at about 11 P.M.; blew very hard; short high sea; signal to veer, and sail on starboard tack.

_August 13, Saturday_, 2 A.M.--A gale S.W. very high. Suppose at daylight he will run for Plymouth. _Rendezvous_ signal. Plymouth Sound. Anchor outside the Drake Islands at 8 P.M.

_August 14, Sunday._--Weigh and get within the bight. Write letters.

PLYMOUTH SOUND, “PENELOPE” BRIG, _August 14_.

SWEET SISTER--Encountering a S.W. gale has led us a sad rakish life. We were glad to put in here to-night, an operation which the thickness of the weather rendered very bothering.

As the wind may blow contrary some time, write to me here, directed Army under Sir H. Burrard, Plymouth, or elsewhere.

Chickens all well, but Jack and I cannot get the ducks to eat now; they waddle about and crack their toes. Jack’s great delight (Jack is the cabin boy, my only companion) is my solicitude about the ducks, and I thought he never would have done laughing when I told him to clean away some tar from the coop because it made them sneeze; and when we turned them out to exercise the other day, one tried to quack and could not, so Jack said, “He’s speechless, sir.” We anchored at eight o’clock--sad, sad work. Should have been half way to Lisbon.--Ever yours,

CHARLES.

_August 15, Monday._--French prize brought in yesterday, a fine brig of war of eighteen guns. She was in company with a corvette and another brig of equal force. They gave chase to an English twenty-gun ship, which disguised herself and stopped her way. The brig that was taken outsailed the other and began to engage the Englishman, upon which the corvette and other brig crowded sail and made off, while their more honourable companion, after fighting thirty-five minutes, was taken.

_August 19, Friday._--Wind fresh, six knots, smooth water. At evening a bird flying like a duck met the ship, and lighted on the foretopsail yard, where he began looking up and down and all about, peering, as it were, with his long flexible neck and long beak. When it became dark, Antonio, a cunning, merry Italian, went aloft to try to catch him, at which everybody cried, “Fool!”--As he perched with his face aft, the man got on the foreside the sail (they wondered how the devil he managed it), and we could see his hands glide under the yard until they laid hold of the animal, which he brought down with him upon deck, the enraged creature snapping at him all the time with great dexterity.

He was very savage and the size and colour of a large goshawk, but a much slimmer-bodied bird; his pinions, plumage, tail, and standing position of his body like a hawk; his head but very slightly deviating from the bulk of his neck; sleek appearance; his long beak hooked at the end of the upper limb; his eyes, light blue, yet wild, ardent, and piercing, were placed close to the sit of the beak; his legs short and thick, of a black colour; his feet large, long, and triangular, the webs white, and claws at the ends of the toes.

Unfortunately and thoughtlessly Antonio’s wish to have his wing cut was complied with, and he would not eat.

_August 20, Saturday._--At 6 P.M. land discovered well on the larboard bow; supposed neighbourhood of Cape Ortegal. Blowing exceeding hard, heavy sea, eight knots. Bird won’t eat.

_August 21, Sunday._--3 A.M. wind drops. Eight o’clock thick fog; not yet weathered Cape Finisterre. Having seen the land at no great distance, and the strange bird refusing all food, I proposed to liberate him, thinking that of two chances for his life that was the least desperate, namely, his being able to row to some land where he might seek his food unassisted by flight. Accordingly the string was taken from his leg and he was left at large. After walking about a bit, he came in sight of the water through the door of the gangway that had been opened for him. He immediately perched upon the edge of the vessel, looking earnestly about as if to discover land, tried his wings, seemed sensible of the defect, but at last he stooped and soon reached the water.

We had endeavoured to palliate the injury by cutting the other wing exactly in the same manner as the first, not pinioned, merely the ends of the feathers taken off. When he reached the water he rowed from the ship with amazing swiftness and began to wash himself and play with infinite delight, plunging his head into the water, and seeming in complete enjoyment. The ship was stealing on about a mile and a half an hour, and we had lost sight of the bird, when, to our great surprise, he hove again in sight, and seemed pulling after the ship as hard as he could. There was a very heavy swell, and we could see him dive up hill and down, and gain upon the ship astonishingly fast. We still could hardly think he wished to come on board again, until he came close alongside, and kept close to the gangway (where he had gone from the ship), looking up with anxiety. A man was then let down to the water’s edge, when, instead of pulling off, the bird came to him with open mouth, clapping its wings, and showed the utmost impatience to be taken up. When he came on board he was much fatigued and his plumage was wet. He still refused to eat, but a little fish and water was put down his beak, which he swallowed. He seems weak and ill, and I fear will die before we are able to relieve him. He is become tame, however, and has his liberty about the deck, and he knows he may go when he likes, which I hope comforts him. I would give two guineas at this moment (and I have but six) to restore him those bits of feathers of which he was robbed; but, at any rate, he is no longer disgusted with the nastiness of the ducks, with whom we put him at first, in hopes they might get acquainted and induce him to take pot-luck with them; but he treated them with the most scorning contempt, and seemed to think them most filthy companions, and the devotion and animation with which he cleansed himself from their filth when he got into the water was quite beautiful to see. At twelve it cleared up so as we could see the land--Cape Finisterre. Light breeze. Fog gone.

_August 22, Monday._--This morning the strange bird at four o’clock leapt again from the side and pulled from the ship with a swift and steady course until out of sight. He kept up his looks amazingly well, and probably the fish and water stuffed down his throat sustained him, and, as if aware that he had exhausted himself before, he never stayed to wash or amuse himself. Fare him well.

_August 24, Wednesday._--Fogs, foul wind, good breeze towards evening. Land ahead. Signal made for Mondego, and bear away accordingly.

_August 25, Thursday._--A nice breeze at 12 A.M. and very clear. Sandy shore, sand hills, north of Mondego. Lay to for three ships astern.

_August 26, Friday._--Breeze blowing right out of harbour. Very angry at the wind; expect not to get in to-day. At half-past nine boat alongside. Onions, pears, apples, apricots, bread. Learn from them that the great fleet is gone to Lisbon, and am then sure that we shall follow. Soon after signal to steer W.S.W.

_August 27._--Dead calm, fog, rain, heavy sea.

Foul breeze.

Sad work.

_August 31, Wednesday._--At 5 A.M. Rock of Lisbon in sight. Pass through Sir Harry Burrard’s fleet on their way to England. When we come abreast of the Rock, seven o’clock, we soon hear from the agent that the army had made a bad business of the landing, which took place on the Maer, many lives being lost. It was supposed that we were either to land in the same place, should the wind favour, or return to Mondego.

An action had taken place, in which Sir H. Burrard was in person. 5000 French taken, 800 British lost. The British forces said to consist of Sir A. Wellesley’s expedition. Stand in at ten o’clock for the Rock of Lisbon. Come in sight of the Tagus blockading fleet, under command of Sir Charles Cotton. Bring to, then go on the starboard tack, and God knows when or where we shall land. _Eurydice_ leaves us for Halifax.

_September 1._--Still tacking for Lisbon. I go on board--the commander of the convoy, Captain Mayne--_Primrose_ brig sloop.

Tell him that, being astray, I was just now particularly anxious to get to the army, as I supposed the Engineers might possibly be actively employed. He then told me that the game was up, that Junot was allowed to return to France with his troops and plunder, but that the English had told the Russian Admiral that he must either surrender or fight; that Sir J. M. and Sir A. W. were raving at Sir H. D.[19] and Sir H. B. on account of the terms allowed to General Junot, and that we should go in to-day or to-morrow. Stand out till twelve. Wind blowing very hard.

_September 2, Friday._--Signal to anchor. Beat up towards an anchorage near the Rock of Lisbon, where the _African_ and convoy had brought up last night. At nine o’clock see a Russian flag of truce go to the British Admiral.

Come to an anchor off Cascaes at two o’clock. Go on shore. See Captain M’Leod of the _Barfleur_. Find on inquiry that it is not known where the army was. It had been at Mafia, but it appeared that it was moving. The 42nd Regiment, commanded by Colonel Stirling, had taken port at Cascaes. The Colonel despaired of getting important despatches to Sir Henry, so I determined not to set out for the army until their situation is known. Write home.

OFF CASCAES, _Sept. 3, 1808_.

MY LOUISA--After the most tedious and provoking passage we came to an anchor yesterday noon off the fortified town named in the date, at the entrance to the Tagus. Things are in this situation, General Junot having lost a battle, much to the glory of Sir A. Wellesley and his army, in which the enemy were nearly two to one. Sir Henry Dalrymple, by terms which at the first view appear unaccountably favourable to the French, has induced him to capitulate, and he, with his troops, are to be sent in our transport to Rochefort, and the Russian fleet on the Tagus, we hear, is to be taken to England under Russian colours, to await the event of negotiations with the autocrat.

In pursuance of this treaty, Fort São Julião, and all the works and places more remote from Lisbon, are already under English colours, and it is expected that to-day or to-morrow the embarkation of the French will take place. Sir Harry Burrard, they say, arrived himself just before the action commenced, having landed at Mondego, but left Sir A. Wellesley to carry through the plan of battle, which was fully designed. The event was that the enemy were amazingly beaten.

Just as the French had fallen back on their entrenchments, it is said that intelligence was brought of Sir J. Moore having arrived with 14,000 men, which new situation of things and proportion of armies relatively convinced Sir Harry Burrard that the enemy must capitulate, and although (it is said) Sir A. Wellesley did all but _kneel_, saying that unless he was permitted to follow up the glory of the day that of the army would be tarnished, Sir H. B. persisted in putting a stop to hostilities, and a capitulation has been finally entered into by which the main point is carried, but in which the pride of the army and the wishes of the Portuguese do hardly appear to have been sufficiently considered. The enemy was at our feet, and after very hard fighting the army had a right to conquest, and after being ground by their oppressors, the Portuguese should have been allowed the natural triumph of seeing the objects of their abhorrence humbled.

I went yesterday to Cascaes, with intent to join the army, but the commanding officer (colonel of the 42nd) knew not where it was, and could not forward despatches of importance to the General. To-day I shall go to the Fort São Julião and make a stout attempt to get to them, but all fighting is over here. Farewell, own lass.

CHARLES.

_September 3, Saturday._--_Penelope’s_ boat lands us at Fort São Julião at one o’clock. Go to Colonel Blunt (commanding 3rd Buffs). Very civil man. Sends his orderly with us to Ociras to point out the road to Cintra, where the army is. At Ociras, a mile from Fort São Julião, get animals. Arrive at the Palace of Cintra, occupied by Sir Henry Dalrymple. Get an excellent bed, the inn kept by an Irishwoman. A romantic spot. The mountains of Cintra part of the range of the Rock of Lisbon.

_September 4, Sunday._--See Squire, Lord W. Bentinck, and Burgos. Walk with Burgos towards English camp. Meet mules. Return with him and ascend the mountains of Cintra. Meet General Moore--bon! Reach the top, crowned with a convent, continuing the very highest peak of the Rock. Noble view from thence. Take many angles with a righted compass. Go west over the mountains to a reputed curiosity, which Mulcaster calls the convent of cork. Find it lined with cork--cork door and cork ceiling, etc., to keep out damp. Go into refectory; drink and eat. Table hewn out of the top of an enormous pebble, whose bottom formed the ceiling of the church. Find Williams and Drevil at the inn, having come from Sir A. W.’s army. Williams and I sleep at the inn. In the morning army to move towards Fort São Julião.

_September 6._--Dine with General Moore--bon! Ordered to hold myself in readiness for Elvas.

_September 10._--Buy two horses at 18 guineas each. Dine with Squire. Fletcher arrives and tells me I march at four o’clock the following day.

_September 11._--Pack up till two. Row servant. Send artificer off with baggage and start myself. Arrive at General Moore’s quarters. Go to Lisbon to embark the horses.

_September 13._--March with regiment and arrive at Vendas Novas, passing through uninteresting country. Here is a palace belonging to the Prince capable of containing 10,000 men, stables for 500 horses, adequate kitchens and water. Beastly contrived, great staring barrack rather than palace, and the French had torn down wainscoting and false doors in search of treasure.

Proceed over like country until within five miles of Montemor o Novo, when it becomes more rich and wooded; indeed, all along the beautiful foliage of the cork trees greatly relieved the sandy sterility of the way.

Arrive at Montemor o Novo. Regiment camps out. Get good billet. Wall round the castle. Examine the position. Sup and sleep excellently. Silver ewers and covers.

_September 14._--Re-examine position. Nuns of the castle send to say glad to see us. Breakfast--tea, coffee, bread, butter, honey, eggs, sweetmeats, oranges--latter sent by the nuns. The Prioress from St. Domingo--the colour of gold. Eat cakes and see the ravages of the French in search of money.

Regiment marched through this morning at five o’clock.

Start for Arrayolos, distance twelve miles.

_September 15._--Arrive at Venda do Dogue, apparently a poor farmhouse, and we found that the farmer was a Captain. I observed that the Captain was a sensible man, preferring to gain bread by open honest industry to starving his wife and family by a strained support of gentility; and on asking whether we might not venture to offer some sort of compensation for what we were supplied with, my servant told me they were the richest people in the country; that this was their place of retirement from their palace in the city! We had a sumptuous breakfast, with sweetmeats. Started at twelve and reached Estremoz at four--a walled town with a citadel. Here we find the regiment. Get a billet on Adjutant Gaze and find that the Spaniards are before Elvas. Propose to Colonel R. to go forward to reconnoitre. Regiment encamp a league beyond the town.

_September 16._--At six o’clock start for the camp, and find I had better not go forward, as Cockburn, who was gone to Lisbon, had brought intelligence that the Frenchmen had required an officer from Junot to authenticate the orders of surrender, and a suspension had been entered into between all parties for six days; also the fort had made a convention with the town--one not firing, the other not supplying or admitting the Spaniards. Therefore he thought the appearance of an Engineer might excite jealousy, etc.

Get permission to go on.

Bring Elvas and Fort La Lippe in view. Arrive at the first post of cavalry in rear of the Spanish camp. Sent from one camp to the other, till at last, about two o’clock, we reach the Colonel’s tent off Badajoz. We step into the tent and join the Colonel and other officers at dinner--a most excellent mess of rice and salt fish, in a camp kettle, and first-rate sausages. We get on most merrily. I give the health of Fernando Septimo. The jolly Colonel roars. Replies the thundering tent, and the whole camp resounds. Bon!

Conducted to the General. He doubts our errand, and bids us wait the return of a British officer from Badajoz. This was O’Brien, who had been sent on before with a communication to the fort.

We said No; if the General would not give us permission to see the batteries, we would go to Elvas.

The General’s aide-de-camp said that we could not go to Elvas because of the Convention.

I asked if there was a Spanish guard over the gates. “No.” “Then pass us through your camp.”

An officer conducted us through the greater part, and pointed out the road to Elvas and left us.

We were brought up by the advanced posts, commanded by a Colonel of Cavalry--true Spanish face. He made some difficulty, but passed us at length, and we arrived at half-past four at the gates of Elvas, where we sent in for permission to enter the town.

While we were waiting in the sun, sufficiently vexed at our occupation, up came two Spanish dragoons and said that by order of their Colonel we must go back with them.

Finding that we were two armed to two, we refused compliance with their arbitrary message; but soon four more arrived, and intimated that they were prepared to enforce it. I then desired that we might wait the answer from within the town, Bernardo damning them into compliance. The gates at length opened, and a Portuguese officer and guard appeared, when we were admitted in pomp, and the poor dragoons refused a hearing. We said we were far from wishing them to enter, and Bernardo set up a loud laugh. We then went to the General, who took us to the Bishop--a good man, trembling at the critical situation of his town.

I explained what had happened, and he rather wished our return. I said we could go there to-morrow on our way home.

He then offered us his country house, and we were taken to the Junta, of which the Bishop is the head, and it was resolved there that we should stay. The Bishop told them what I had told him, that there was no doubt of the French surrendering the town, because the whole French army was in our power, and it would ruin them if the Convention was broken. Lodge at the house of a jolly, hospitable Major de bon Cœur.

_September 17._--Start for the Spanish camp at nine o’clock, having procured credentials from the Judge. Visit the cavalrymen’s tent. Nothing passes about yesterday. Rains excessively hard. Conducted to the General; find O’Brien there. Now well received. Get permission to see the batteries--four 24-pounders and 6 guns,--and am set down to a ham, the finest I ever tasted.

Return to Estremoz. I, a Christian, talk much by the way to O’Brien, a sceptic. Agree on poetry. Lose our way five times. Pass through Borba, the prettiest Portuguese place yet seen. Arrive at Estremoz, and get some dinner at Colonel R.’s.

_September 18, Sunday._--Seek for breakfast. Find in a coffee-house a nauseous party of Portuguese officers, who gamed and drank and smoked and stank. The dignified commander of cavalry--a yellow individual covered with dirt and stars--undertook to ask for what we wanted, as he spoke French. I told him we wanted bread, honey, coffee, and boiled eggs. I watched his interpretation to the women. He said these gentlemen want “bread, honey, coffee, and eggs, all boiled together,” to explain which he made a motion with his hand to stir it about. The woman looked petrified, and we roared, and the cavalier was confounded. Swallow our breakfast. Get another billet.

Colonel R. has a field day in the square, to show the people how to do it, which went off admirably.

_September 19._--Colbourn returns at 5 A.M. with a French officer, a nice little fellow with a red face, much tired by attending Colbourn’s rapid steps from Lisbon. We arrived at the camp, and at the General’s found some difficulties--no admittance to the fort without communicating with Badajoz. A messenger was despatched, and we said we would go to Elvas. That could not be permitted. They begged we would remain with the General until the return of the messenger, which would be at six o’clock. Colbourn said first of all, “Very well”; but upon consulting, we agreed it would be better to go to a village about a league off and return at six. We communicated this to the A.D.C., who seemed much troubled, and said his General understood we should remain, and would be much better pleased if we did.

“But we have changed our minds.”

“Ah! but I don’t know whether the General will permit it.”

“What! would he keep us prisoners here?”

“Oh, no.”

Upon which he ran to the General and returned with answer, “That we must do as we pleased.”

We then went to a house about a league off, ate some bread and fruit, and returned at 6 P.M. to find the messenger not returned, nor post horses from Elvas arrived.

The having the French officer with us in the Spanish camp, where every one was ready to cut his throat, gave us some uneasiness, for we witnessed in the Spanish, officers and all, a hatred not to be overcome for a moment. The Adjutant-General came to me and whispered, “Is that an Englishman?” “No,” said I, “French.” He started away, and the effect it had on him immediately called to my mind the case of a man with hydrophobia at the sight of water. They would offer him nothing to eat, although they saw him sinking for want of refreshment and rest. So whatever they gave us we offered to him before we would touch it. Even the old cook who filled my glass with a smiling face settled his countenance into a solemn gloom as he transferred the mouth of the bottle to the Frenchman’s cup.

This sort of thing made us determine to decline the entreaty of the General and to sleep in a small town called Bersim, in which Colbourn knew a house where our charge would be secure.

“Et me voilà à cheval encore,” said he as we left the camp. Our kind demeanour to him contrasted with the Spanish scowl; our jokes, loud laughter, and general merriment seemed to give him the utmost confidence in our protection. He was about seventeen years old, with a florid countenance and slight form; a page to Napoleon and a lieutenant in the 1st Regiment of Dragoons.