ARROYO DE MOLINOS, AND SIEGE OF TARIFA.
Girard invades Estremadura.—Hill marches against him.—Surprises him at Arroyo de Molinos.—Spanish affairs.—Fall of Tarragona. Proceedings of the French.—Siege of Tarifa.—Total defeat of Laval.
General Hill had established his head-quarters at Portalegre, and cantoned his division in the surrounding villages. The position was well chosen; and while it enabled him to observe Badajoz closely, he had the power of concentrating his troops at the shortest notice; while no movement of any consequence could be made by the enemy without the knowledge of the English general.
After retiring from Ciudad Rodrigo, Soult had turned his attention against the newly-raised army of Castanos; and Girard, with a moveable column, was despatched into Estremadura, to narrow his line of action and cripple his supplies.
Girard’s presence was most injurious, and threatened the very existence of an army whose means of sustenance must be drawn from the country alone. Throughout the Peninsular war, the Spanish commissariate was but a name. Castanos’ support, therefore, depended on his own exertions; and it was absolutely necessary that the French should be driven from that portion of Estremadura, or the Spanish general could not subsist his raw and ill-appointed levies.
That task was consigned to Hill, assisted by some Spanish troops, under the command of Giron and Penne Villemur. Apprised of the advance of the allies, Girard fell back from Aliseda; and, after a cavalry affair with Villemur, he retired, first to Arroyo Puerco—and then, passing Caceres, marched on Tollemacha. Hill, on gaining correct intelligence of his route, proceeded by the shorter road of Aldea de Cano and Casa Antonio; while Girard, leaving a rear-guard at Albola, fell back on the morning of the 27th upon Arroyo de Molinos.
This little town stands at the base of a steep and rugged mountain, one of the extreme ridges of the Sierra de Montanches. The height that overlooks it is nearly inaccessible, forming a crescent behind the town, whose points are about two miles apart. Beneath the eastern point, the Truxillo road is carried; while that of Merida runs at right angles with that of Alcuescar—and the Medellin road between the former two. A plain stretches between Arroyo and Alcuescar, interspersed with a few patches of oaks and cork-trees. To occupy these several roads, and thus cut off Girard’s retreat, was Hill’s great object. By a forced march he reached Alcuescar in the evening, lay under arms for the night, moved at two in the morning, and, undiscovered, halted within half a mile of the French corps, who were leisurely preparing to resume their march, and little dreamed of his dangerous proximity. The bad roads, however, delayed Hill’s advance; and it was past six o’clock before the columns of attack were formed.
The first brigade, under Lieutenant-colonel Stewart, was ordered to attack the town. The second, under Howard, moved rapidly to the right of Arroyo, and occupied the Medellin road. Between these columns, the cavalry of Villemur was posted, to charge, if necessary, or support either corps that might require it.
The weather, though distressing to the troops, was favourable for a surprise. It rained heavily, and a storm of wind was raging. No enemy interrupted the allied advance—for their outlying picket had returned to the town, as Girard had ordered his division to march at daybreak.
When the attack was being made, the first French brigade were filing from the streets of Arroyo by the Merida road, under a perfect assurance that their march would be unmolested; when suddenly a dragoon galloped in, announcing that a body of men were marching rapidly towards the town, but the mist was too thick to permit their uniform to be seen.
Girard was convinced that these troops were Spanish, and jocosely remarked, that “Messieurs les Anglois lay too long a-bed, to be stirring by times on such a morning.” But a few minutes undeceived him,—a loud cheer was heard, and instantly the Highland regiments appeared, their bagpipes playing “Hey, Johnny Cope, are ye waking yet?” They entered with unloaded muskets—the bayonet was to do all—no prisoners were to be secured—they were directed to press on—bear down all resistance—and push directly for the point of the mountain.
The French corps that had already commenced its march, formed in squares of regiments outside the town, between the roads of Medellin and Merida, with the cavalry on the left—and Stewart’s brigade pressed forward through the streets, leaving to a wing of the 50th, the task of securing such of the enemy, as this sudden attack prevented from escaping with the columns. Finding the French in square, the 71st lined the fences, while the 92nd formed and opened its fire. The cavalry (Spanish), joined by a few English hussars, charged and routed the horsemen of Girard, just as Wilson’s Portuguese brigade broke through the mist, and appeared on the left and rear of this devoted band. The French cavalry instantly galloped off; and the infantry threw down their arms, and endeavoured to escape by the mountain. The paths over the Sierra, difficult at all times, were now a wretched route to retreat by,—the advanced British regiment was already mixed with the rear of the fugitives—and a scrambling pursuit succeeded. In a regular rout resistance is seldom offered; and a number of prisoners, the arms, baggage—in short, the whole matériel of Girard’s division, were taken by the victors with trifling loss.
After this successful expedition, Hill retired again to Portalegre; the troops took up their old cantonments—and for a time active operations terminated.
The success of the British arms had a very powerful effect in rousing the spirits of the Spaniards, whose armies had hitherto been so frequently and signally defeated. The irregular bands of guerilla leaders everywhere increased—and their activity and enterprise crippled the resources of the French, and caused them much alarm and embarrassment. Although generally unfortunate in the field, in desultory warfare the Spanish partisans were formidable; and in the south it required incessant vigilance on the part of the invaders, to secure their detached posts, and move their convoys through the country.
One of those fortunate affairs—few and far between—that shed a passing gleam of glory upon the Spanish arms, occurred at Vals, between Eugene and Sarsfield. The French were completely beaten, and Eugene himself killed.
Other operations of no great moment were attended with varied success. Suchet had succeeded Macdonald; and by his activity the province of Catalonia was overrun, the Spanish strongholds gradually wrested from their possession, and Tarragona regularly besieged.
From the strength of the place, and the number of the garrison, the city was obstinately held against the French. But one after the other, its defences were carried by storm—and as no quarter was given, scenes, too horrible for conception, were enacted. The men were savagely butchered,—the women exposed to the most dreadful indignities,—and in the annals of war, among many instances of frightful excesses perpetrated by an infuriated soldiery, those occurring at the storm of Tarragona[151] will be found the worst.
In the south of Spain, Ballasteros had been successful in some affairs with the French detachments; and the people of Ronda, a mountain district of great strength, were up in arms. In consequence, Godinot was despatched by Soult with a division against Ballasteros, who was eventually driven to the extremity of the Peninsula, and obliged to obtain protection under the guns of Gibraltar.
A corps of British and Spanish troops had, in this interim, been landed from Cadiz, and took possession of Tarifa, and Godinot put his division in motion to attack them. His line of march was by the coast—and some British vessels having been apprised that he was advancing, had anchored close to the pass of La Pena. On attempting to get forward, the ships opened their batteries, and swept the road with such excellent effect, that Godinot abandoned the route, and hastily retreated.
Soult, however, had determined that Tarifa should be reduced; and Laval, with considerable reinforcements, was directed to invest it without delay. Tarifa was a place of little strength—an old slight wall, connecting a number of towers, forming its whole protection. The town is traversed by a mountain river, whose entrance is secured by a tower and portcullis, while the bed of the stream was strongly palisaded. The outlet was defended by an old castle and tower called the Guzmans. Tarifa joins a promontory of small extent, by a sandy spot of land and a causeway; and on the highest sandhill, called Catalina, a field-work, armed with a twelve-pounder, had been hastily thrown up. The presence of a British line-of-battle ship and frigate in the bay secured the island, and prevented any operations from being attempted within the range of their powerful batteries.
On the 20th, the place was invested by Laval. The siege commenced with an evil omen; for on the next morning a French picket having incautiously advanced, was suddenly cut off by a party of the 11th regiment, and captured.
A daring sally was made next day. Some of the English garrison penetrated the French camp and seized a gun; of course they were unable to carry it away, but they managed to draw the enemy under the fire of the ships and tower, by which they suffered considerably.
On the 22nd, Laval broke ground, and pushed forward his approaches by the eastern front until the 26th. On the 29th, the French having received their siege artillery, the guns opened on the wall, while their howitzers shelled the island. A very few discharges shook the old and feeble masonry—and in a few hours it came down in such masses, as formed an enormous breach, and left the place equally open to assault or escalade.
The street of Tarifa immediately behind the breach was fourteen feet beneath its level. Every preparation was made to receive the assault, the houses that commanded the breach being fortified and garrisoned, the street effectually barricaded, and the troops carefully distributed. To the 47th and Spaniards the defence of the breach was entrusted—the 87th held the portcullis, tower, and rampart; while a rifle company connected the regiments with each other.
Although for sixty feet the breach was open, and offered an easy ascent, the French did not venture to storm. At night, salvos of grape were fired by the French batteries—but in the intervals between the discharges, the garrison cleared the foot of the breach, and enlarged their means of defence behind it.
On the night of the 30th, a tremendous rain increased the river to such a height, that the torrent, sweeping all before it, broke down the palisades and injured the portcullis. But this calamity did not daunt the British; they laboured vigorously all night, and by morning the defences were restored.
The mountain flood subsided quickly, and at daylight, a battalion of French grenadiers quietly approached by the river bed, and rushed forward to break down the stockade. Not a shot had been fired by the British, who waited their approach with perfect coolness; but when they touched the portcullis, a rolling volley was delivered with such terrible effect, that the head of the column was annihilated, and all that composed it perished, from the officer that led, to the poor drum-boy who beat the pas de charge. The river bed was choked with corpses—that approach was effectually barricaded by the dead,—while rushing up the banks, the French grenadiers opened their musketry, assisted by a fire from the trenches, and a number of pits in front of their lines, which had been dug by Laval to afford a cover for his sharpshooters. But the column had been too much shattered by the first discharge to recover its courage—a sustained fire of British musketry, closely and efficiently kept up, cut off the boldest of the French soldiers who still made any thing like an effort at advancing—while a six-pounder on the town wall, enfiladed the assailants at scarcely pistol distance, and kept up an unceasing torrent of grape, that tore up the masses of the enemy, and drove them once more for shelter to the hollow. It was hopeless to continue longer under this murderous fire—and the French retired at speed to their trenches, leaving the bed and banks of the stream heaped with corpses; while the cheering of the garrison, and the band of the 87th, as it struck up a national quickstep, strangely contrasted with the groans of dying men, and the still more harrowing outcries of the wounded.
Every kindness was bestowed upon these sufferers by their generous enemy. Those who could be carried off the field were brought through the breach and dressed by English surgeons, or allowed to be removed to their own camp. The weather became horrible—rain fell in torrents—the besiegers and besieged were equally inconvenienced—and on the night of the 4th, Laval having destroyed part of his artillery and buried the remainder, retreated, and abandoned the siege. During the time the French remained before Tarifa, their loss exceeded a thousand men, while the British casualties did not reach much above one hundred.[152]
The Spanish armies continued their operations, and generally with indifferent success. Blake and the army of Murcia were totally defeated by Soult at Lorca. The Spanish general afterwards assumed the command of the troops in Valencia—and Suchet entered that province in considerable force.
At Murviedro, the French marshal, attempting by a coup de main to carry the place, was repulsed with considerable loss; but, having brought up his siege artillery, he reduced the castle of Oropesa, and renewed his efforts with additional means and increased vigour. His first assault failed; and Blake advancing to raise the siege, Suchet determined to offer battle—and on the 24th the French and Spaniards made their dispositions, and formed in each other’s front. Early on the 25th, the latter advanced, and attacked their enemy. For a time the Spanish wings drove back the French, gained ground on either flank and carried an important height; but, unfortunately, they had endangered their centre by a too great extension of their line; and Suchet, bringing up his reserve, strengthened his left wing, and burst upon Blake’s weak point with a fury not to be resisted. The Spaniards were broken, their left wing cut to pieces in detail; while the right, by a gallant effort, retreated in good order by the Valencia road. The Spanish loss was estimated at seven thousand hors de combat; and Murviedro surrendered on the following day.
Blake, after his defeat, took a strong position under the walls of Valencia, threw up field-works, destroyed some bridges, and fortified the others; while Suchet established himself on the left bank of the Guadalavia, and waited for the reinforcements for which he had applied. On Christmas-day a strong corps arrived from Catalonia, and strengthened the French army by ten thousand men; and on the next morning Suchet crossed the river, drove the Spanish left from their intrenchments, and obliged Blake, with the remainder of his army, to shut himself up in Valencia.
Overburthened by a population and troops amounting to one hundred thousand souls, the city could not hold out long. Blake unsuccessfully endeavoured to force Suchet’s line, but was again driven into the town. A bombardment ensued; and on the 8th of January, a capitulation took place; the Spanish army becoming prisoners of war, and Valencia opening its gates to the conqueror.