Under England's flag

by Charles Boothby

Order from Headquarters

Mr. Boothby will be pleased to proceed this night by Castracontrigo, and endeavour to reach Sanabria to-morrow evening, or early on the following morning.

The object is to obtain correct information of any movements of the enemy from Benavente towards Orense, and to transmit the same by the most expeditious and secure route to Sir John Moore. Also to endeavour to induce the Spanish troops now at or near Sanabria to defend the passes as long as possible, and also to defend the fortress of Puebla and that of Monterey, and throw every impediment in the way of the advance of the enemy.

A detachment of the 76th is at Monterey, which must be ordered to retire in time to Orense, where it will find another detachment and wait for further orders.

Should there be any provisions at Monterey, and the Spaniards not be disposed to defend it, they must be, if possible, sent to any place on the road from Orense to Villafranca for the use of the column in that line of march, or else they must be consumed or otherwise destroyed to prevent their falling into the hands of the French.

Headquarters will be at Villafranca till the 3rd, and afterwards towards Lugo.

All intelligence must be also put to the column marching on Orense.

Guides must be procured this night, and whenever wanted, and care taken to get intelligence whether the enemy have pushed any parties of cavalry towards Sanabria.

Geo. Murray, Q.M.G.

Headquarters, Astorga,
December 30.

December 30.—Start at twelve o’clock.

December 31, Saturday.—Very cold, leagues infernally long (5 = 7), freezes very hard. Enter the mountains, my horse weak and broken down. Arrive at Castracontrigo at six o’clock, seven long leagues.

Hunt up the Alcalde, and desire to be taken to the curé’s house. He proposes our waiting till daylight.

Knock up the curé. Get fire and chocolate, and lie down at seven. Rise at ten. Breakfast and start again at twelve. Our guides tell us we shall not arrive at La Puebla till midnight.

This is all mountainous, and snow on the ground. Arrive at seven. Taken to the Governor’s, who secretly places a sentry over us, as I had not shown him my passport.

January 1, 1809, Sunday.—Go out to speak to the Governor. He is now very civil and frank, and tells me his intelligence, which I forward to headquarters.

Get a better house belonging to a man, who tells us afterwards that he has devoured at a sitting seventy-two eggs with their corresponding bread and butter.

Colonel Chabot, charged with despatches, arrives.

January 2.—Colonel Douglas, A.Q.M.G., and York and Hutchinson arrive on their way to the army.

I despatch spies to Benavente.

January 3.—Breakfast these people, and they start for Monterey. Go three leagues on the road to Monbuey. Hear a lie, that the French are at Castracontrigo.

Colonel Peacock comes in late, his party halting a league behind at Otero.

January 4.—A Spanish ensign endeavours to turn me out of my quarters. I turn him out instead.

The inhabitants of Otero send to beg the Spanish soldiers may protect them from the plunder of Colonel P.’s stragglers. I write to Colonel P. to apprise him of this.

Mr. Murray, Com. G., arrives.

Commissaries, officers and soldiers, mules and devilment arrive all day. Spies return.

January 5.—Mr. Murray departs. Conceiving my commission to be performed, I determine to start for the army to-morrow, and the Governor writes to Marquis Romano and encloses my despatch to Sir John. A Colonel of Spanish Artillery arrives with the cadets of Segovia in charge. Poor little fellows! he is to take them to Corunna.

Don Alonzo Gonzalis tells the people that the English are going to embark. They do not believe it. “What,” says he, “if the English have not so many men as the French that follow them, would you have the poor English stay and be destroyed?” “God forbid.” In the evening I go to the Governor’s, and find round the brazier many Spanish officers, principally Artillery. They talk of the destruction of the bridge of Benavente, and speak theoretically of the line of least resistance, etc., and I am asked if we do not carry with us some new and extraordinary machine of destruction. I cannot make out what they mean for a long time, so they send for the officer who had seen it.

He describes to the wondering circle a terrible machine, in which I recognise the wheel car! Then have we, is it true, an invention for carrying musketry to the distance of round shot? It was incredible. Describe shrapnel shells. A little black fellow starts up and swears it is no new invention. He is scouted and silenced. Take my leave.

January 6, Friday.—Start for Villarviejo. Freezes hard, and the ground is a sheet of ice. As the sun gets up, however, it thaws.

Pass numerous villages, and at three leagues encounter the first Portilia, where the road goes over a high mountain, which is sometimes impassable, and at this time bad and dangerous, not so much on account of the quantity of snow, but because the road, undermined by the run of waters in a thaw, becomes like the worst of rabbit warrens. And besides this, the beaten path is so narrow that two mules meeting could not keep it, and the one that leaves it flounders half buried in the snow. Pass the other Portilia, not in so bad a state, at six leagues, and reach Villarviejo, on the other side, at seven leagues. The general and busy run of waters, as if to their appointed stations, calls forcibly to my mind the description given by Milton of the assemblage of waters at the great command to let dry land appear.

Scenery wild and very high.

Get put up at the curé’s house, which stinks excessively.

While cooking in the kitchen the whole family assembled round the fire, pop on their knees as the curé rises, and say the Rosary aloud. “Santa Maria! Madre de Dios!” is chimed out at the beginning of almost every prayer.

Foster and I sleep in the same room with the curé, who blows like a whale.

January 7.—Start for Monterey. Excessive, heavy, and continued rain. Overtake Colonel Peacock, in charge of £130,000, about four leagues from Verin, which is at bottom, while Monterey is at top, almost adjoining. Converse a good deal with him. Arrive at Verin completely drenched.

These two days’ journeys, though each called seven leagues, are at the lowest calculation eight.

About a league from Verin we are on a hill commanding a complete view of it and the Valdi mountains, most beautiful and romantic, a fine winding stream with green meads, and in the midst villages, woods, groves, pastures, houses, gardens—the garden of Eden.

Find Mr. Murray at Verin. Consult. He has learned that the army was at Lugo on the 5th, on which same day the English entered Orense. It is therefore doubtful whether or no the English will be found there when we arrive, the distance being ten leagues.

Get billets on an apothecary and go to bed. Much disturbed. Knocked up. Sick and ill, and what rest soever my illness allowed was snatched away by voracious and innumerable jumpers that bit me in all directions, and where they did not bite they ran and hopped about my feverish body.

January 8, Sunday.

Because I dare not touch them for my life,

Enticing grapes and honey were produced,

And when my parched palate prompts my hand,

My qualmish stomach sends its veto up.

Baboon-faced John projects my certain cure,

And gives me burnt bread sopped in scalding wine.

I go to the Corregidor, and there

Find Murray’s information is confirmed.

I write to Colonel Peacock, and resolve

To take the shortest road to Vigo Bay,

Passing the Minho, by a ferry boat....

Engage a mounted guide, and disfatigue

Our weary bodies with two hours’ repose.

Then, rising in the dark of night, we go

And wonder how the practised guide can find

The labyrinthine way, how he can tell

The rocks and waters manifold (from snow

Just thawed, and pushing for the lowest place)

With such sure step to evitate at night.

At last a little village we descry, and thunder at a cottage door, but, alas! the inhabitants of this cottage persist in a death-like silence and a dread repose. Thus we remain, we know not where, in a very cold night. At length the guide goes to another house by himself, and gets a Galician with straw torches, which are very pretty and convenient.

The road is very dreary and unpleasant, and still three leagues to Villadita. On arriving we get a woman to show us the way to the Corregidor’s. It was three o’clock in the morning. Corregidor looks out of his window and says with a loud voice, “Alguacil.”[24] The old Alguacil leads to one and another, but we make him give us a smart-looking house with windows to it. The mistress makes a rail, but first the maid comes to the balcony and says, “Good morning, gentlemen.” “A curse, you ugly witch,” says Bernardo, “is this a time for the compliments of the morning?” When we get into this house it is so mouldy, forlorn, and faded fine that, late as it is, we try another, where we find a man in bed in every nook and corner. Get very comfortably lodged, and find that we are only nine leagues from Vigo.

January 9, Monday.—Get a most excellent breakfast, and, notwithstanding my increasing malady, I venture to swallow a quart of rich new milk, which I have not tasted for a long time.

The people come and bother and say, “Behold here are two dear Englishmen that don’t know what good news we have for them. The English, pursued by the French, have headed round at Betanzos and driven the French before them sixteen leagues, and orders are come to halt the troops at Orense that were going to Vigo.”

Although I did not think this account entitled to credit, coming from the Spaniards, who give and take lies with greater assurance and credulity than any other people, I thought that I might so far trust it as to the intelligence which respected Orense, only two and a half leagues distant; and they said the ferry across the Minho was not always passable.

Not feeling safe in the hands of the precarious, headlong Spaniards, I was rather anxious to get to a British column, as the circumstances of the evacuation would not be much longer in spreading, and who could tell the impression it might create.

[A break occurs here in the Journal, but we know that Captain Boothby was now on his way to join Sir John Moore at Corunna via Vigo Bay, and the next tidings we hear from him occur in the letters to his father and brother after the battle of Corunna.]

* * * * *

On Board the “Barfleur,” Jan. 18, 1809.

My ever dearest Father—I am very anxious that you should have a line from me as soon as you will hear of the action of the 16th, the result of which, had it not deprived us of Sir John Moore, would have been everything that could be wished. He was killed by a cannon shot early in the action, which tore away his shoulder. He, however, lived till nine o’clock, being perfectly collected, sensible, and great to the last.

The French in attacking us had at last complied with his most earnest wishes, and the battle had the effect which he foresaw, that of ensuring to us an unmolested and complete embarkation, which took place the night of the action and yesterday, the French contenting themselves with throwing a few shot among the shipping, which, operating on the fears of the masters, caused two or three transports to be lost. Otherwise it had the beneficial effect of getting the fleet under way most expeditiously.

The action was very obstinate and warm, and lasted three hours. It is the first I have been in. Our loss in killed and wounded, particularly in officers, has been very severe, considering the number of troops exposed to fire, which was not more than half the army.

I have no more time, as the bag is closed. God bless you,

Charles.

* * * * *

At Sea, 1809.

My dear B.—As my daily adventures just now would be rather disagreeable than interesting, I shall give you some account of the latter operations in Spain. As much as I can vouch for will be included in a relation of my own movements.

When the army arrived at Astorga, Sir John Moore sent me to La Puebla, the capital of Sanabria, a mountainous district in the kingdom of Leon bordering on Portugal. The place is in the direct but worst road from Benavente to Orense, and as it had been determined that a column should take a better though longer road to Vigo, the object of my mission chiefly was to give immediate intelligence to Sir John Moore should the enemy show any disposition (by taking the shorter route from Benavente or elsewhere to Orense) to cut off the retreat of the column marching on Vigo.

I was apprised of the time when our army would reach the different stages of its retreat, that I might judge where to rejoin it, having executed the service for which I was detached. Being satisfied on this head, I set out for Orense, making long journeys and sometimes travelling by night, the roads very bad and mountainous, rendered almost impassable by snow, but the scenery in many parts extremely beautiful and romantic, particularly in the neighbourhood of Monterey, an old mountain castle of, I believe, no military importance.

From the intelligence I procured at Verin, immediately below it, I thought it better to avoid Orense and proceed to Vigo by the shortest road, crossing the river Minho (over which there is a bridge at Orense) by a ferry.

The Minho at this place is a very rapid, turbid stream, carrying down with great velocity huge timbers and fragments torn by the waters from the mountain sides, or hurled from their tops by the fury of the winter blasts. The scenery is extremely rich and beautiful, having an inexpressible charm viewed from the stupendous heights, immediately impending the river, over which the road winds.

The rugged steepness of the roads greatly lengthens the leagues, and the journeys, which one laid down from the experience of other parts of Spain, are obliged to be most teasingly divided in Galicia, particularly irksome to me on account of the uncertainty there was of the light in which our retreat would be viewed by the barbarous, arrogant, and ignorant, though not ungenerous, Spaniards, for few of the most enlightened would be capable of exculpating me in any cause of anger they might imagine against my country. Having performed a hundred miles of this journey, I unexpectedly fell in with the column that marched upon Vigo, and having communicated with General Alton, I was confirmed in my determination to proceed to Vigo, as all communication between him and the main body of the army had for some time ceased. As it appeared that the enemy had not got scent of this small column, and there was not the smallest probability of anything interesting taking place at the embarkation at Vigo, it became a very earnest object with me to reach Corunna, where it did not seem likely that affairs would have so insipid a complexion. I was therefore very well pleased to find that my friend Burgoyne had been sent to Vigo, and was to wait there until the embarkation was effected. At this time it was pretty confidently believed at headquarters that I had fallen into the hands of the enemy. This left me fully at liberty to proceed with the transports to Corunna, and Sir Samuel Hood, whom I had formerly known in the Baltic, was so kind as to offer me a passage in the Barfleur. It would be needless to describe the anxiety I felt respecting what might be the state of affairs at Corunna, where I was sensible that the army must have been some days. I supposed and hoped that some natural advantages would enable them to repel for so long a time the forces of France, but this might not be the case, and when we arrived that beautiful army might be no more. I got into the harbour in the Minerva frigate on the evening of the 14th January. I went immediately to Sir John Moore, who received me most kindly, and notwithstanding the cruel anxiety he must have suffered, still supported that most engaging exterior so endearing to his friends and so prepossessing to strangers on whom he did not think proper to frown. I then sought out my friends and brother officers, and was greeted by them as one risen from the dead. I, too, felt inexpressible pleasure at getting again amongst my companions, and in feeling satisfied by the tranquillity at Corunna that things were not going on badly; to find my friend Lefebure, too, one of the party, and almost reestablished in health (for owing to excessive anxiety and fatigue in his attendance on the army of Blake, he was attacked and nearly carried to the grave by a fever) gave me the highest pleasure.

He spread a mattress for me on the floor, and I slept as undisturbed as if the French had not passed the Pyrenees. I found that the whole effective forces of the British occupied a position about three miles from the walls of Corunna, which they had held since the 12th, and where they had hutted themselves. This position in a military point of view was very bad, for it was immediately opposed to one of greatly superior strength and elevation, which ground the British, being the defensive and smaller force, could not possess, their object being to contract the front presented to the enemy, who had the power to attack with unlimited numbers. They were therefore obliged to relinquish the commanding ground to the enemy, and to make up by their superior firmness and courage the great defects of their position.

I know not if you understand plan drawing well enough to be assisted by a small hasty outline. The position of the British was bad because commanded by that of the enemy, but more especially because the right was liable to be turned—ⴲ. The hill itself, G, was very well against assault, because the side was very much intersected by steep banks and fences which, defended by our troops, could not be carried. The sketch I have given you is on the first impression of memory, and without the wish to be accurate, just to help you by a spilt-port-wine drawing to the sort of thing. The fortification of Corunna (xxx) was infinitely better than any entrenchment thrown up occasionally. It was much improved and strengthened by us, and though its being fatally commanded, without bomb proof, and many other faults and disadvantages, natural and incurred, would prevent its pretending to withstand a regular siege, yet as a barrier against assault for a certain time it was as good as could be; 1500 men might stand behind it and defy 20,000. Nothing, therefore, could be better to cover the tail of an embarkation. The outer position was maintained that the fleet might not be molested, which it might have been, for instance, from St. Lucia, etc., that the first business of the embarkation might be neither looked into nor molested, and that the tranquillity of the town might be as long as possible preserved. And now, after this explanation, I shall continue my narrative.

On the morning of the 15th, after breakfast, upon hearing some popping and that the enemy were making some demonstration, I borrowed Lefebure’s horse (having left both my own at Vigo) and rode to the English position.

View of the British and French Positions before Corunna, taken from the Citadel.

a b British Line. c d French Line. e Magazine blown up 14th Jan. 1809. f The village of Elvina. g g Heights occupied by the French on the morning of 17th Jan.

From an illustration in “Campaign of Lt.-Gen. Sir John Moore, K.B.” (1809).

The enemy were thrusting out their sharpshooters in all directions, a species of warfare or battle which they understand the best. Ours, however, were not backward, and gave them at least shot for shot. A distant cannonade was soon after commenced on both sides, the French firing at our groups of officers, and indeed at individuals, for I was honoured twice in this way, and my friend Lefebure’s horse had a narrow escape. They then made a parade of their force and several movements on their heights as if they meant something, but merely meaning, I fancy, to know if we still held our ground and with what force. Sir John Moore was out all day, and I followed in his suite over our whole position. He spoke to all officers as he went along, giving cautions, orders, and instructions, and looked wistfully at the enemy, apparently wishing with painful eagerness for a battle. Those who suppose these wishes were excited by any thought of his own fame, do not know Sir John Moore. He wrote to Sir S. Hood that he was anxious for an engagement, because he thought it would be the only means of securing an unmolested embarkation. The sharpshooting and cannonading continued throughout the day, but the number of killed and wounded on our side was inconsiderable, and probably was no greater on that of the enemy.

On the morning of the 16th no skirmishing was heard from the outposts, and everything wore the face of an understanding on the part of the enemy that it was now their business to fight us. As long as we remained embattled upon our position we thought it was not their business, and feared they waited a more favourable opportunity, which must soon be afforded them. For Sir John Moore was determined, much as he wished to give them a check, not to wait any longer, for every day, while it added to their strength, brought with it the chance of a foul wind, which could not be too much dreaded if it lasted long enough to drive us into the town, and to give time to the French to establish batteries on the margin of the harbour for the destruction of the fleet.

At one o’clock I was charged with the erection of a battery in the town and some other works on the ramparts. At about three o’clock we heard the firing begin, sharpshooting first, and then more general, and so much cannonade as convinced me it must be more serious than on the preceding day. Nothing I could say or do could prevail upon the soldiers to lay aside the air of the last extremity of fatigue which they had assumed. The shovel of earth approached the top of the bank as leisurely as the finger of a clock marches round the dial. I was therefore a good deal struck with admiration at their behaviour when at four o’clock an order came for them to join their regiments, which were marching to the field. They threw down their tools, jumped to their arms, hallooed and frisked as boys do when loosed from school, these poor, tattered, half-dead-looking devils. I was no less pleased to be left at liberty. An Engineer has no appropriate place or defined duty in an open battle, but he is always acceptable in the field if mounted, because he is generally a good sensible smart fellow that looks about him, and is trustworthy in the communication and explanations of orders.

What we generally do, therefore, is to offer our several services as aides-de-camp to the several generals whom we may pitch upon or fall in with; and had I been mounted I should have gone straight to General Moore upon finding myself at liberty. But now a horse was my first object. The firing rather increased than slackened. I had never been present at a general action, and I wished painfully for a horse. Thinks I, “I’ll walk towards the scene of things, and I may meet a horse that has lost his master.” I went a little way and overtook a gunner with a saddle on his back.

“What are you going to do with that?” said I.

“I am taking it to St. Lucia,” said he.

“What for?”

“It is there that all the artillery horses are.”

“Oh, ho!” A thought struck me, and I followed him. When I arrived I went straight to an officer of gunner drivers and explained to him my situation. The obliging fellow instantly ordered a horse to be saddled, to my great delight. I asked him, “What news from the field?” “General Baird is killed,” said he. I galloped off, and on my way up I overtook an artillery officer, who told me General Moore was dangerously wounded. I know not how it was, but I certainly galloped on with much less count of personal danger. The enemy had so placed two guns that the overshots invariably came whizzing down the road. As they passed one another I leaned on one side, and thought each destined for my head.

The object of my search now was General Hope. I spied a clump of officers standing just behind the two lines engaged. From the situation they had taken up I thought this group most likely to be General Hope and his suite, so I hastened to it, and was not disappointed. He was looking very attentively at the two uninterrupted lines of fire though he said hardly anything, just sent an order in a quiet way now and then, and whenever the fire immediately before him seemed to slacken, he appeared instinctively to potter down to some place where hotter firing was. I was very glad to find myself so little disturbed by the whizzing of balls. The fire was very hot, and several men and horses of our group were struck, but I was thinking more of the novel sight before me, and glorying in the brave obstinacy of our people, who after so furious and long-continued and unabated an attack still refused to yield one inch to the column after column, relieving each other, that assailed them.

When first indeed I reached General Hope’s party, I looked up at a clear part of the sky and silently begged of God that should a ball this day despatch me, He would forgive me my sins and take me to heaven, and after that I felt finely settled and elevated and indifferent to the event, while the cheering and volleying of our soldiers warmed my heart.

As it was growing dusk a roar of musketry was volleyed on the left, followed by a roar of huzzas quite as loud. General Hope asked, “What’s that?” “The 59th coming up fresh, sir.”

Colonel Graham came up and told him (the firing had almost ceased) that the enemy still possessed a village which was thought too near to us, and asked if it should be taken. General Hope desired that some companies of the 15th might take it, and soon after an officer came up and announced the capture. The firing had totally ceased. General Hope rode round the position, and then went to Corunna to make such arrangements as might be required. We got to the town about eight o’clock. I rode to Sir John Moore’s quarters, and going upstairs met Colonel Graham. He told me Sir John was lying on his mattress dying, that he heard him groan. Perhaps had I gone in, pressed his hand, and got a kind word from him, it would have been a source of pleasure to me now, but then I had no stomach for it. His shoulder and part of his left side were carried away by cannon shot. His great good spirit left his body at nine o’clock.

General Hope’s letter[25] is as accurate and chastely true as it is simple, elevated, and beautiful; so great a degree of accuracy one would scarcely have expected, or thought compatible with the elegance of the language, the smoothness and entireness of the narrative. I advise you, if you have forgotten it, or did not know that it was something more than a beautiful piece of writing, to read it again.

Our obstinate battle, the coming in of our wounded, and the melancholy death of our chief had a very great effect upon the feelings of the people of Corunna. “This is for us! this is for us! Poor English, they bleed for us!”

This sort of thing soon worked itself into a transport of generous enthusiasm, which was both beneficial and satisfactory to us.

At about four o’clock on the morning of the 17th, when my companions and I got up, we found that nearly all the army was embarked. The wind was beginning to blow very hard, which made the embarkation very difficult, but, thank God, it blew the right way. On the 16th Sir John Moore had desired Fletcher, chief engineer, to name the number of men he thought necessary to occupy the town line, and to furnish a minute distribution of them upon the different works.

This Fletcher did, and I went round with him and General Beresford (who was entrusted with the forlorn hope), that Fletcher might explain the distribution to him.

Had the French not been so severely cowed and beaten as they were, and had come on to the attack at dawn, Beresford with 1500 men would have held that line while the embarkation was completing, and probably at night have withdrawn to the citadel, protecting that and his own embarkation with a small portion of his force. Then these last would have rushed to the boats in waiting, jumped in, and trusted to the gates and ditches to keep out the enemy until they had shoved off from the shore.

But the impressive lesson the French had received rendered these operations unnecessary; and had not General Hope determined by doing things with the leisure he could command, to do them completely, the whole fleet might have been out at sea on the 17th before a Frenchman had ventured to show his nose.

But it was resolved to embark the sick and wounded, to bury General Moore, and therefore to keep the 1500 men upon the line until evening.

I went with Squire (a friend of mine in the Engineers) walking about the line, and at about seven o’clock we fell in with General Hope, and accompanied him all over the peninsula behind the walls of Corunna. He spoke with much satisfaction of the result of the battle. The troops, he said, had been withdrawn without the knowledge or suspicion of the enemy, deceived by their remaining fires.

At about ten o’clock, I think, a few Frenchmen appeared slinking into the houses near the walls of Corunna, and the Spaniards, acting up to the magnitude of their hatred to every Frenchman, banged at each individual with a 32-pounder. They were sharpshooting this way all day long, though at first we could not conceive the cause of such a heavy cannonade.

General Hope asked us to breakfast with him. “Squire, Boothby, will you come and have some chocolate?” were not unacceptable words. I have loved and admired this quiet, modest, superior being ever since I have known him.

I believe the Spaniards were entirely aware of our determination to embark, yet their enthusiastic blaze in the good cause continued to increase. “They would die in the ruins of their walls.” It even pervaded the women, who all day long were seen with cartridges and wads upon their heads for the service of the batteries.

They were jealous of our interference on the walls, which they wished to defend themselves, so that orders were given to our people not to appear on the walls, the portion destined for their defence being posted behind the ramparts, which were covered with all sorts and both sexes of Spaniards.

Everybody commanded, everybody fired, everybody hallooed, everybody ordered silence, everybody forbade the fire, everybody thought musketry best, and everybody cannon. In short, you have no notion of the loud misrule which prevailed.

However gratifying to us the display of such a spirit might be, or however beneficial to cover and complete our retreat, I believe a scrupulous care was had neither to promote nor increase it.

It was a spontaneous burst, coming up itself, and impossible to be checked—so much unexpected by us that arrangements were made for the last party to spike all the guns in the place. And while we could not but admire the honesty of their zeal, we lamented that it might increase the calamities of the capture, but this, I am happy to find, has not been the case.

It is said that the Governor candidly acknowledged that he should not attempt to stand a siege in so defective a place, but promised that as long as his walls gave protection to an Englishman or an English ship, he would never surrender.

The ground now in possession of the French would enable them to cannonade the shipping which still remained in the harbour as thick as a wood, although for the most part filled with troops.

The General had urged this point with Sir S. Hood, who urged it strongly to the Admiral, De Courcy. It is said that the transports did get the order to proceed to sea the moment they had received their complement of troops.

If so, they, with a degree of idiotic disobedience not unusual nor incompatible with the character of masters of transports, took no heed.

Certain it is that we in the town were rather longing to see a French battery open upon them, which we thought would make them get under way with a signal and beneficial expedition.

But the fact was that we did not despise them half enough, nor know of what extreme cowardice and rascality they were capable.

General Hope determined to be the last man on shore, and desired to have some Engineers remain with him, in which number I was. But at about two o’clock, when the General found that no preparations were making against our line, and that the enemy contented himself with preparing a battery on the top of the height overlooking the shipping, he expressed a wish that we all should embark, as at dusk the boats would be so much occupied that we might find it difficult to get off.

We therefore proceeded together in search of a bit of victuals into the inner town, induced the people to unlock a high tavern, and sat down to a plate of cabbage soup.

It was while thus employed that the French battery opened upon the shipping. It consisted of two field-pieces, which the fears of the French had situated in such a manner as to be as little hurtful as possible.

Instead of going to the top of the hill, had they ventured down to an old stone fort (which we had abandoned) with their guns à fleur d’eau, they would probably have hulled some ship or other every shot, but their plunging fire could only touch one spot, and if that spot were not a ship, the ball went innocuously to the bottom.

But the end which the caution of the enemy would not permit him to attain was effectually given to him by the cowardice of the masters of the transports. The wind was blowing very strong, and the first shot from the enemy was the signal for them to cut their cables. Thus, being all adrift at once, it is only wonderful that more did not strike upon the leeward rocks. Seven, I believe, struck, three were got off, and four, after being cleared, were burnt by us, and beautifully lighted the last of the embarkation. The transports that were got off had been previously abandoned by the masters.

A midshipman of the Barfleur told me that on going alongside of a transport on the rocks, the master threw his trunk into the boat, jumped in after it, and then, before a single soldier was out, he cried, “Shove off, or she’ll bilge.” He was knocked backwards by a sailor.

We got on board a man-of-war’s boat, which put me on board the Barfleur to get something I had left there. I was invited to go home in her, which I gladly accepted.

The embarkation being completed, General Beresford came on board at two o’clock in the morning, and when the fleet was collected it sailed for Old England....

After taking the trouble to write this very long letter, my dear B., shall you be able to get through it? I beg at any rate that you will not destroy it, as it completes my Spanish Journal, and I have no copy of this or any other narrative of that period of my proceedings.—Your most affectionate brother,

Charles.

Johannes Moore

Exercitûs Britannici dux præbio occisus