While the troops continued to take up their position, the sun shone out, and a slight breeze blowing at the same, moment, the heavy clouds moved past, and we beheld the magnificent panorama of the battle-field. Before us, at the distance of less than half a league, the French cavalry were drawn up in three strong columns; the Cuirassiers of the Guard, plainly distinguished by their steel cuirasses, flanked by the Polish Lancers and a strong huzzar brigade; a powerful artillery train supported the left, and an infantry force occupied the entire space between the right and the rising ground opposite Poço Velho. Farther to the right again, the column destined for the attack of Fuentes d’Onoro were forming, and we could see that, profiting by their past experience, they were bent upon attacking the village with an overwhelming force.
For above two hours the French continued to manoeuvre, more than one alteration having taken place in their disposition; fresh battalions were moved towards the front, and gradually the whole of their cavalry was assembled on the extreme left in front of our position. Our people were ordered to breakfast where we stood; and a little after seven o’clock a staff officer came riding down the line, followed in a few moments after by General Crawfurd, when no sooner was his well-known brown cob recognized by the troops than a hearty cheer greeted him along the whole division.
“Thank ye, boys; thank ye, boys, with all my heart. No man feels more sensibly what that cheer means than I do. Guards, Lord Wellington relies upon your maintaining this position, which is essential to the safety of the whole line. You will be supported by the light division. I need say no more. If such troops cannot keep their ground, none can. Fourteenth, there’s your place; the artillery and the Sixteenth are with you. They’ve the odds of us in numbers, lads; but it will tell all the better in the ‘Gazette.’ I see they’re moving; so fall in now, fall in; and Merivale, move to the front. Ramsey, prepare to open your fire on the attacking squadrons.”
As he spoke, the low murmuring sound of distantly moving cavalry crept along the earth, growing louder and louder, till at length we could detect the heavy tramp of the squadrons as they came on in a trot, our pace being merely a walk. While we thus advanced into the plain, the artillery unlimbered behind us, and the Spanish cavalry, breaking into skirmishers, dashed boldly to the front.
It was an exciting moment. The ground dipped between the two armies so as to conceal the head of the advancing column of the French, and as the Spanish skirmishers disappeared down the ridge, our beating hearts and straining eyes followed their last horseman.
“Halt! halt!” was passed from squadron to squadron, and the same instant the sharp ring of the pistol shots and the clash of steel from the valley, told us the battle had begun. We could hear the Guerilla war-cry mingle with the French shout, while the thickening crash of fire-arms implied a sharper conflict. Our fellows were already manifesting some impatience to press on, when a Spanish horseman appeared above the ridge, another followed, and another, and then pell-mell, broken and disordered, they fell back before the pursuing cavalry in flying masses; while the French, charging them hotly home, utterly routed and repulsed them.
The leading squadrons of the French now fell back upon their support; the column of attack thickened, and a thundering noise between their masses announced their brigade of light guns as they galloped to the front. It was then for the first time that I felt dispirited; far as my eye could stretch the dense mass of sabres extended, defiling from the distant hills and winding its slow length across the plain. I turned to look at our line, scarce one thousand strong, and could not help feeling that our hour was come: the feeling flashed vividly across my mind, but the next instant I felt my cheek redden with shame as I gazed upon the sparkling eyes and bold looks around me, the lips compressed, the hands knitted to their sabres; all were motionless, but burning to advance.
The French had halted on the brow of the hill to form, when Merivale came cantering up to us.
“Fourteenth, are you ready? Are you ready, lads?”
“Ready, sir! ready!” re-echoed along the line.