This was the twenty-fifth of November, exactly two months from the date of the despatch sent by British Ministers, appointing Sir John Commander of the Forces in the Peninsula. Despatches in those days travelled slowly; and Moore had been terribly hampered. There was no organised Army Transport. There was no regular Intelligence Department. By far the greater number of his officers, however ardent in spirit they might be, had seen no active service. His Army, though it included some of the most splendid regiments in Europe, trained by himself in earlier years at Shorncliffe, included also large numbers of raw recruits, the latter having to be, almost in the face of the enemy, "drilled and rattled" into shape.
Yet, within three weeks of receiving the news of his appointment, Moore with his staff left Lisbon.
High hopes had been felt, resting partly on confident reports of Spanish enthusiasm and preparedness. Sixty or seventy thousand soldiers, it was said, under three Spanish Generals, burning with ardour to extinguish the French, waited to join the British Army, sent to their aid. The French, few in number and depressed in spirit, would be nowhere before these valiant warriors.
But such hopes as depended on Spanish valour were already waxing dim. News had filtered round to Salamanca of advancing French, and of retiring Spaniards. Two of the Spanish Generals, with their forces, had beaten a hasty retreat. The third, under Castanos, might or might not follow suit. If he too failed, the British Army would find itself in serious straits, and be compelled to retreat also.
No such thought was in the mind of Roy Baron, or of his brother-officers. They were eager to come face to face with the enemy.
It was over ten days since Roy had reached Salamanca, and already he felt at home there. Many changes in his short life had made ready adaptation to fresh surroundings an easy matter.
The great Plaza was full of people—British soldiers marching past, Spanish sightseers gazing. Every soldier wore a red cockade, in compliment to the nation he had come to help. Banners fluttered gaily, and the bracing wintry air was stirred by the incessant throb of drums. As one band died away, another drew near.
Drilling and marching were the order of the day. The Army had to be welded into shape; and not an hour was wasted. Subalterns, as well as officers of higher grades, were kept busy.
Roy, finding himself off duty for a short time, had wandered into the great square, to see what was going on, and to add his voice in lusty welcome to the latest arrived regiment. He stood close to one of the Corinthian columns, by which the arches were upborne. A thought of Verdun had come to him, and a recollection of Denham. What would not Den have given to be with them?
"Hallo, Roy!"