The mountains were now becoming more wild-looking and steep, as we proceeded; whilst those few huts we occasionally passed seemed so utterly forlorn and wretched-looking, it appeared quite a wonder how human beings could live in so desolate a home. After the snow commenced, the hills became so slippery (being in many parts covered with ice), that several of our men frequently slipped and fell, and being unable to rise, gave themselves up to despair, and died. There was now no endeavour to assist one another after a fall; it was every one for himself, and God for us all!
The enemy, I should think, were at this time frequently close upon our trail; and I thought at times I heard their trumpets come down the wind as we marched. Towards the dusk of the evening of this day I remember passing a man and woman lying clasped in each other's arms, and dying in the snow. I knew them both; but it was impossible to help them. They belonged to the Rifles, and were man and wife. The man's name was Joseph Sitdown. During this retreat, as he had not been in good health previously, himself and wife had been allowed to get on in the best way they could in the front. They had, however, now given in, and the last we ever saw of poor Sitdown and his wife was on that night, lying perishing in each other's arms in the snow.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] This ball I found in one of my shirts, and kept it long afterwards.
[5] It was said that Napoleon observed this encounter from the heights.
CHAPTER XII.
THE RETREAT TO CORUNNA.
The wind and the shorn lamb—General Craufurd, and his treatment of the mutineers—An officer unmanned—Craufurd's inflexibility and endurance.