AFFAIR UPON THE COA.—FALL OF ALMEIDA.
Action of the Coa.—Almeida besieged.—Great magazine blows up.—Place surrenders.—Wellington falls back behind the Mondego.—Romana defeated by Mortier.
While the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo was in progress, the light division, under General Craufurd, after falling back on the fifth, took up a position on the line of the Azava. From the contiguity of the enemy, the greatest vigilance was necessary. The pickets extended from Carpia to the junction of the Azava and Agueda; and the outpost duty devolved upon the Germans, with a part of the 16th light dragoons. Craufurd was particularly directed to avoid a battle—and, in the event of Soult advancing, he was instructed to give way at once, and retire across the river. A strict obedience to the letter of his orders was not among the qualities for which Craufurd was remarkable; and whether he supposed from his position being under the guns of Almeida, that it would be respected by the French, or that he had determined to resist the forward movement of the enemy, although apprised on the 21st that the French were advancing, and that Fort Conception had been abandoned and blown up, he declined passing the Coa, and formed the light division in line, his left resting on Almeida, and his right and rear covered by the river.
At break of day on the 24th, an entire corps, amounting to eighteen thousand men, of whom three thousand five hundred were cavalry, with a powerful artillery, attacked the centre of the position.[104] The pickets between Villamula and Almeida were driven back—and retired before overpowering numbers, skirmishing in beautiful order, and disputing every inch of ground. An extensive plain stretched from Villamula to the Coa, intersected by walls and enclosures, and, of course, afforded a fine field for light infantry manœuvres. Of this advantage the British availed themselves; and every fence and hedge were obstinately maintained, until, oppressed by numbers, they were reluctantly yielded to the enemy.
The centre was now seriously attacked, and though the 95th and Portuguese caçadores fought gallantly, Craufurd perceived that he could not hold his ground, and determined to cross the river, beyond which his cavalry and guns had already retired. A bridge over the Coa was the only route by which he could retreat—and it lay completely exposed to a sweeping fire from the French artillery. However, there was no alternative; the infantry moved off in echelons by its left,—and though furiously assailed, succeeded in crossing to the other bank.
The irregularity of the ground, and the frequency and height of the enclosures, rendered an orderly retreat almost impracticable; but the operation was boldly and coolly executed. To prevent the French from forcing the bridge, and allow time for the regiments to reform, the 43rd and 95th were drawn up in front of the pass, and directed to oppose to the last every attempt that the French should make to cross it.[105] The enemy seemed equally determined; and having collected an imposing force, a fierce and well-sustained attack produced one of the most desperate and sanguinary encounters which the annals of modern warfare record.
“The French skirmishers, swarming on the right bank, opened a biting fire, which was returned as bitterly; the artillery on both sides played across the ravine, the sounds were repeated by numberless echoes, and the smoke, rising slowly, resolved itself into an immense arch, spanning the whole chasm, and sparkling with the whirling fuzees of the flying shells. The enemy gathered fast and thickly; his columns were discovered forming behind the high rocks, and a dragoon was seen to try the depth of the stream above, but two shots from the 52nd killed horse and man, and the carcases, floating between the hostile bands, showed that the river was impassable. The monotonous tones of a French drum were then heard, and in another instant, the head of a noble column was at the long narrow bridge. A drummer and an officer, in a splendid uniform, leaped forward together, and the whole rushed on with loud cries. The depth of the ravine at first deceived the soldiers’ aim, and two-thirds of the passage was won ere an English shot had brought down an enemy; yet a few paces onwards the line of death was traced, and the whole of the leading French section fell as one man! Still the gallant column pressed forward, but no foot could pass that terrible line; the killed and wounded rolled together until the heap rose nearly even with the parapet, and the living mass behind melted away rather than give back.
“The shouts of the British now rose loudly, but they were confidently answered, and, in half an hour, a second column, more numerous than the first, again crowded the bridge. This time, however, the range was better judged, and ere half the distance was won, the multitude was again torn, shattered, dispersed and slain; ten or twelve men only succeeded in crossing, and took shelter under the rocks at the brink of the river.”[106]
Night came—and the light division, after its heroic resistance against an overwhelming force, retreated, under cover of the darkness, to a position three leagues from Averca. The night march was made in perfect order; the artillery brought safely off; the field equipage removed; and though Massena, in his despatches, spoke of colours and cannon having been taken, not a trophy nor a gun was abandoned by Craufurd, and a loss fully as severe as what he suffered, was inflicted on the enemy in return. Colonel Hall, who had arrived but the preceding day from England to join the 43rd, fell in this affair—and about three hundred and fifty were returned as killed, wounded, and missing.
Never did British troops fight with more gallantry, and at a greater disadvantage; and if Craufurd—as it must be admitted by all that he did so—imprudently brought on an action, no officer, under more trying circumstances, could have fought himself more ably out of a scrape. That Craufurd was, in a military view, to blame, in permitting himself to be overtaken on the right bank of the river, is true; and to waste his strength in an unnecessary combat, from which no advantage could result, was equally injudicious. But no affair could have been more brilliant than the encounter on the Coa; and while a useless expenditure of life was to be deplored, night never fell upon a braver field, or closed more gallant efforts, than those made by the light regiments of the British throughout that long and doubtful day.
On the 25th and 26th, the French appeared on the left bank of the Coa—but it was doubtful whether they would sit down before Almeida, or merely mask it with a corps, and push forward at once into Portugal with all their disposable force. Lord Wellington, in consequence, decided on falling back to the gorges of the Estrella, where he could command a strong position, in the event of Massena’s advance forcing on an engagement. Orders were accordingly issued for the cavalry to move to Alverca; while the light division marched to Celerica, the first to Penhancas, the third to Carapentra, and the fourth continued on the Guarda, to keep the communication open with Hill’s corps at Alalay.
On the 14th of August, the French regularly sate down before Almeida, and broke ground on the ensuing day. On the 26th, at daylight, eleven batteries opened on the fortress, with a fire from sixty-five pieces of siege artillery. As Almeida was strongly garrisoned, well provided and stored, and under the command of an English governor, strong expectations were entertained that its resistance would far exceed that of Ciudad Rodrigo, which in every point was the feebler fortress of the two. But these high hopes were fated to be miserably disappointed.
On the evening upon which the French batteries had opened, in transferring ammunition from the grand magazine to the ramparts, a shell dropped into a tumbril that was leaving the door of the building, and igniting the powder with which it was loaded, the tumbril blew up, and most unfortunately communicating with the depôt, produced a frightful explosion. The loss of life was, of course, great—numbers both of the garrison and the inhabitants perished; half the guns were dismounted; the works shaken to their foundations; and the ammunition reduced to some fifty barrels of powder. Treachery also was at work; the Portuguese officers in a body, headed by the second in command, proceeded to the governor[107] and insisted that he should surrender; and the major of artillery, who had been sent out to propose terms, proved a traitor.[108] He acquainted the French marshal with the full extent of the misfortune occasioned by the explosion; and Massena, perceiving that Almeida was at his mercy, of course dictated what terms he pleased.
On entering the ruined fortress, the French general dismissed the militia to their homes, and having paraded the troops of the line, tendered them his protection, provided they joined the invading army, and took service under Napoleon. “To the eternal disgrace of the persons thus tampered with, all, both officers and men, embraced the proposal, and all passed over, without the slightest apparent reluctance, to the ranks of the enemy.”[109]
When the fall of Almeida was known, Lord Wellington, who had advanced when Massena broke ground, fell back to the position on which he had previously retired; and anxious to get into closer communication with General Hill, he retreated leisurely on Gouvea. By this movement he checked any attempt that might have been intended from Sabugal by Covilhos, and effectually secured the fortified position of Zezere from being turned.
Yet the situation of the allies was truly critical. The fall of Almeida permitted Massena to advance with confidence—while in numbers, the French marshal was immensely superior;[110] and of the allied force, a great portion of the Portuguese had never been under fire. The news of Romana’s defeat by Mortier, made matters still more alarming; as the latter might come up in sufficient time to threaten the right of the allies by Alcantara or Abrantes.
But Massena’s movements ended this suspense—and Wellington was about to achieve one of his most splendid victories.