The patient, who was a large, powerfully-built fellow, had been wounded in both legs by the explosion of a shell, but yet not so severely as to require amputation.
“Does that plaze you, then?” said the doctor, as he applied some powerful caustic to a wounded vessel; “there’s no satisfying the like of you. Quite warm and comfortable ye’ll be this morning after that. I saw the same shell coming, and I called out to Maurice Blake, ‘By your leave, Maurice, let that fellow pass, he’s in a hurry!’ and faith, I said to myself, ‘there’s more where you came from,—you’re not an only child, and I never liked the family.’ What are ye grinning for, ye brown thieves?” This was addressed to the Portuguese. “There, now, keep the limb quiet and easy. Upon my conscience, if that shell fell into ould Lundy Foot’s shop this morning, there’d be plenty of sneezing in Sacksville Street. Who’s next?” said he, looking round with an expression that seemed to threaten that if no wounded man was ready he was quite prepared to carve out a patient for himself. Not exactly relishing the invitation in the searching that accompanied it, I backed my way through the crowd, and continued my path towards the hospital.
Here the scene which presented itself was shocking beyond belief,—frightful and ghastly wounds from shells and cannon-shot were seen on all sides, every imaginable species of suffering that man is capable of was presented to view; while amidst the dead and dying, operations the most painful were proceeding with a haste and bustle that plainly showed how many more waited their turn for similar offices. The stairs were blocked up with fresh arrivals of wounded men, and even upon the corridors and landing-places the sick were strewn on all sides.
I hurried to that part of the building where my own people were, and soon learned that our loss was confined to about fourteen wounded; five of them were officers. But fortunately, we lost not a man of our gallant fellows, and Talavera brought us no mourning for a comrade to damp the exultation we felt in our victory.
CHAPTER LXVII.
THE OUTPOST.
During the three days which succeeded the battle, all things remained as they were before. The enemy had gradually withdrawn all his forces, and our most advanced pickets never came in sight of a French detachment. Still, although we had gained a great victory, our situation was anything but flattering. The most strenuous exertions of the commissariat were barely sufficient to provision the troops; and we had even already but too much experience of how little trust or reliance could be reposed in the most lavish promises of our allies. It was true, our spirits failed us not; but it was rather from an implicit and never-failing confidence in the resources of our great leader, than that any among us could see his way through the dense cloud of difficulty and danger that seemed to envelop us on every side.
To add to the pressing emergency of our position, we learned on the evening of the 31st that Soult was advancing from the north, and at the head of fourteen thousand chosen troops in full march upon Placentia; thus threatening our rear, at the very moment too, when any further advance was evidently impossible.
On the morning of the 1st of August, I was ordered, with a small party, to push forward in the direction of the Alberche, upon the left bank of which it was reported that the French were again concentrating their forces, and if possible, to obtain information of their future movements. Meanwhile the army was about to fall back upon Oropesa, there to await Soult’s advance, and if necessary, to give him battle; Cuesta engaging with his Spaniards to secure Talavera, with its stores and hospitals, against any present movement from Victor.