His studies at St Andrews, perturbed by the new passion, made indifferent progress. The historic golf-links afforded some relief, acting as a kind of neutral soothing medium between antagonistic aspirations. But the final solution of his troubles came from a famous piece of water which is there, called the Witches' Pond. The virtue of this water was great in the barbaric age when the curse of witchcraft lay heavy on the land. The suspected person was thrown into the water. If she floated, her guilt was proven and she was incontinently burned; if she sank, it proved the high specific gravity of flesh and bone. Happy thought! The young man would subject his life's destiny to this convenient ordeal. He would jump into the pond, and either sink as a lawyer or emerge as a soldier!
After this original form of baptism, initiation into the mysteries soon followed, and the young soldier saw much active service during the Napoleonic wars in the Peninsula and in the Low Countries. He missed Waterloo through being on other duty, and in the piping times of peace which followed that decisive battle an idyllic life at Richmond seemed to bound the horizon of his unsatisfied ambition for some fifteen years. From a totally unexpected quarter the call to arms reached him in his retreat, and suddenly roused all his sleeping energies. The offer of a commission in the service of the young Queen of Portugal met with an eager response, and Shaw entered heart and soul into the service of Donna Maria.
As well as being an active soldier, Major Shaw was a lively correspondent, and it is from his letters to his family that we get the most brilliant flash-lights on the incidents of his military career generally, and more particularly on that exciting portion of it which most concerns the subject of these volumes. These letters were edited and published by himself at the close of the operations in Spain.
Colonel Hodges, who commanded the foreign brigade in Portugal, and seems to have left the queen's service in a huff, also published a narrative of the campaign, of which, however, the historical value is not enhanced by its apologetic and explanatory motive.
From the contemporary notes of these two officers we get generous and emphatic testimony to the manner in which Mr Alcock acquitted himself under the ordeal of severe military service. Indeed his comrades and commanding officers, first in Portugal and afterwards in Spain, seem to have vied with each other in spontaneous eulogy of the conduct of the young surgeon, none of them more flattering than General De Lacy Evans, who commanded in Spain. It is the record of a hero and a philanthropist, of high military ardour subordinated to still higher duty both to the cause he was serving and to the comrades whose lives were under his care. The valour of a non-combatant makes no less a demand on the virile stamina than the valour of the soldier,—oftentimes indeed more, since he lacks the stimulus of active conflict and confronts danger passive and unarmed. A few extracts from these really remarkable testimonials may still be read with pleasure after the lapse of sixty years.
Shaw writes to his family:—
A peasant led the way (they wear no shoes and their feet are like hands). I took off my shoes, and after getting down about fifty yards, I looked up and saw a favourite soldier of mine close above me, and an intimate friend of Ramus, the assistant-surgeon Alcock (a nice young fellow), following. I ordered the soldier to halt; but his answer of, "I'll follow your honour to death, captain," made me silent. I tried military authority with young Alcock, as I saw he was much excited; but no, his professional services were, he thought, required, and follow he would. Every moment expecting he would roll down, I clasped my toes and fingers close to the precipice, that he might fall without sweeping me with him: such is selfish nature! Two or three times I determined to return, but the soldier's speech forced me on. We reached the bottom in about half an hour, and, believe me, I returned thanks.
I proceeded along the rocky beach, and there found poor Ramus lying on a rock, in a sleeping position, with all his clothes torn, and a dreadful gash in his head; his body all broken; but with an expression of countenance indicating he had suffered no pain. I was astonished to see him without his shoes; but in ascending a sharp rock I found them, with the marks where his heels had caught as he tumbled backwards head foremost. Finding that our descent had been useless, I told those who had come down that I would not allow them to risk their lives in ascending, and sent off a peasant to get a boat; but he failed both in this and in getting ropes to pull us up. Self again stepped in, and as senior I led the way—one great reason being that no one could tumble back on me! I reached the top—hands torn and feet bruised; and to my joy young Alcock made his appearance, but so faint that I was obliged to supply him liberally with my brandy.
The duty which now had to be performed by the medical men was of the most arduous character. The surgeon of the British battalion, Souper, carried away by the military spirit instilled into him by being an actor in the "Three Days of July," resigned his commission as surgeon, and on this day commenced and finished his military career, being killed at Hodges' side while carrying orders to the French battalion. His place was filled up by Mr Rutherford Alcock, who had the same love for "fire," but for a different object—that of being close at hand to give prompt assistance to any one who was wounded. Although young, Alcock was old in knowledge and experience: he was highly respected by all who knew him, and beloved by those who entered into action, as they felt assured that he thought not of his own safety when his services could be of benefit to them. In the most exposed situations I saw him this day, dressing officers and men with the same coolness as if he were in a London hospital; and I cannot refrain from expressing envy at the gratified feeling he must ever possess when he thinks of the number of human beings he has saved by his knowledge, experience, bravery, and activity, both at Oporto, Vittoria, and St Sebastian. But his trials after the fight of the 29th of September were great.
Owing to the fights of Pennafiel, Ponte Fereira, and the different affairs on the Lugar das Antas, the wards allotted to the British in the general hospitals were full; therefore, one may form some idea of the misery of the British when scattered among the different hospitals, speaking a language which was not understood. Measures were taken by Hodges and Alcock to gather the wounded foreigners together, but the Minister of War threw every impediment in the way of this; almost making one suspect, that now that the soldier had done his work and was useless, the sooner he died the better.