“Ah! but I don’t know whether the General will permit it.”
“What! would he keep us prisoners here?”
“Oh, no.”
Upon which he ran to the General and returned with answer, “That we must do as we pleased.”
We then went to a house about a league off, ate some bread and fruit, and returned at 6 P.M. to find the messenger not returned, nor post horses from Elvas arrived.
The having the French officer with us in the Spanish camp, where every one was ready to cut his throat, gave us some uneasiness, for we witnessed in the Spanish, officers and all, a hatred not to be overcome for a moment. The Adjutant-General came to me and whispered, “Is that an Englishman?” “No,” said I, “French.” He started away, and the effect it had on him immediately called to my mind the case of a man with hydrophobia at the sight of water. They would offer him nothing to eat, although they saw him sinking for want of refreshment and rest. So whatever they gave us we offered to him before we would touch it. Even the old cook who filled my glass with a smiling face settled his countenance into a solemn gloom as he transferred the mouth of the bottle to the Frenchman’s cup.
This sort of thing made us determine to decline the entreaty of the General and to sleep in a small town called Bersim, in which Colbourn knew a house where our charge would be secure.
“Et me voilà à cheval encore,” said he as we left the camp. Our kind demeanour to him contrasted with the Spanish scowl; our jokes, loud laughter, and general merriment seemed to give him the utmost confidence in our protection. He was about seventeen years old, with a florid countenance and slight form; a page to Napoleon and a lieutenant in the 1st Regiment of Dragoons.
When we arrived at our house about ten o’clock the master received us very well, and immediately began talking of the French, asked if they were all embarked, and hoped we would send them to the bottom. At this the little Frenchman cocked his ears, and bursting with laughter, asked if he did not tell us to send ’em to the bottom. This afforded us much amusement a great part of the night. We put the Frenchman in the middle, that they might have the less chance of finding him.
September 20.—O’Brien and I, getting up, could not perceive the head of the Frenchman, so we removed softly the cloak to see whether it was on all safe. Our host coming in about six, I asked him how he did, saying, “England for ever! no Frenchmen!” which made our little friend laugh right heartily. The old man again hoped we should send them to the bottom. “Why?” said the Frenchman. “Because they are good-for-nothing fellows,” said the host. At last he began to suspect, by our laughter, the difference of uniform, and the two different languages, which he perceived we spoke among us, that all was not right, and I being dressed in blue and the Frenchman in green, he set us both down for Frenchmen; and though I assured him I was English, all the household looked at me with a very doubting civility afterwards.