LAST SIEGE OF BADAJOS.
The unfavorable issue of the two former investments, had induced Lord Wellington to wait until a combination of favorable circumstances should at least give more hope of success. The auspicious moment had, in his view, now arrived. The heavy rains which occur at this season of the year would so raise the rivers in the high lands, where his troops were located, that there would be no risk of their detention in proceeding at once to the Alemtejo, while this same flow of waters, in the more level portion occupied by the French, would prove a fatal impediment to the junction of their forces, which were at this time considerably scattered, owing to the difficulty of obtaining provisions. Regiments were despatched, therefore, to bring all the stores of clothing and provisions from the different points where they had been left, and concentrate them near Badajos.
Wellington himself, having remained at his headquarters, on the Coa, until the last moment, in order to conceal his real intentions, now came in person to superintend the new works. As the French had strongly occupied the stone bridge over the Guadiana, he ordered a flying bridge to be thrown across, which was completed on the 15th of March, 1812. Over this Major-general Beresford passed, and immediately invested Badajos, with an army of fifteen thousand men. A covering army of thirty thousand occupied different positions near; and, including a division on its march from Beira, the whole of the allied forces now in Estremadura numbered fifty-one thousand. The garrison of the enemy, composed of French, Hessian and Spanish troops, was five thousand strong. Phillipon, its brave commander, had been busily occupied, since the last siege, in strengthening the defences of the place, and in procuring supplies for the expected invasion. Every family was obliged to keep three months’ provision on hand, or leave the place, and every preparation was made for an obstinate and long-continued resistance. General Picton took the chief command of the assailants. He was alternately assisted by Generals Kempt, Colville, and Bowis.
The night of the 17th was ushered in by a violent storm of wind and rain. It was extremely dark and uncomfortable; but, as the loud roar of the tempest would effectually drown the noise of the pick-axes, eighteen hundred men were ordered to break ground only one hundred and sixty yards from the Picurina. They were accompanied by a guard of two thousand men. So rapidly did they work, that, though it was late when they commenced, before morning they had completed a communication four thousand feet in length, and a parallel six hundred yards long, three feet deep, and three wide. The next night these works were enlarged, and two batteries traced out. To destroy these works was now the first object of the besieged. On the 19th, thirteen hundred of their number stole out of the city, unobserved, into the communication, and began to destroy the parallel. They were soon discovered, however, and driven away. As they rode up, part of the French cavalry entered into a mock contest, giving the countersign in Portuguese, and were thus permitted to pass the pickets; but they soon betrayed their real character, and our troops, hastily seizing their arms, drove them back to the castle, with a loss of three hundred men. One hundred and fifty of the British fell, and, unfortunately, Colonel Fletcher, the chief engineer, was badly wounded. Owing to this circumstance, and the continued wet and boisterous state of the weather, the works advanced slowly; but the batteries were at length completed. Owing to the heavy rains, the parallel remained full of water, and it was found impossible to drain it. But this was in some degree remedied by making an artificial bottom of sandbags. One place yet remained, on the right bank of the Guadiana, which Wellington had not invested. The eagle eye of Phillipon soon perceived his advantage. He erected here three batteries, which completely swept our works with a most destructive fire; and its effect would have been yet greater, had it not been that the mud obstructed the bound of the bullets. A courier was instantly despatched to the fifth division, stationed at Campo Mayor, for assistance. But misfortunes seldom come alone. The heavy rains had caused such a rise in the river, that the flying bridges were swept away, and the trenches filled with water. The provisions and ammunition of the army were still on the other side of the river, so that we were soon in want of both. To add to this, the earth thrown up for intrenchments became so saturated with water that it crumbled away, and our labors were for the time wholly suspended. A few days of fine weather, however, relieved us from our unpleasant situation. The river subsided, another flying bridge was constructed and row-boats obtained, so that the communication might not again be interrupted, under any circumstances. On the 25th the reinforcement from Campo Mayor arrived, and the right bank of the Guadiana was immediately invested. The same day, our batteries were opened upon the fort. The enemy were by no means silent spectators of this invasion. They returned our fire with such vigor, that several of our guns were dismounted, and quite a number of officers killed. Marksmen were also stationed on the trenches, to shoot every one who should show his head over the parapet.
General Picton now resolved to take the fort by assault. Its external appearance did not indicate much strength, and he hoped for an easy victory. But the event proved that these appearances were deceptive. The fort was strong; the ditch fourteen feet perpendicular, and guarded with thick, slanting poles, and from the top there were sixteen feet of an earthen slope. Seven guns were mounted on the walls, and two hundred men, each armed with two loaded muskets, stood ready to repel all intruders. Loaded shells were also ranged along the walls, to be pushed over, in case of an attack. General Kempt took the direction of the assault, which was arranged for the night of the 25th. Five hundred men were selected from the third division, of which two hundred were stationed in the communication of San Roque, to prevent any assistance reaching the fort from the town; one hundred occupied a position at the right of the fort, one hundred at the left, and the remainder were held as a reserve, under the command of Captain Powis.
About nine o’clock, the signal was given, and the troops moved forward. The night was very clear, although there was no moon; and the fort, which had loomed up in the darkness still and silent, as though untenanted, answered back the first shot of the assailants with a discharge that caused it to resemble a sheet of fire. The first attack was directed against the palisades in the rear; but the strength of these, and the destructive fire poured down upon them, obliged them to seek some weaker part. They turned to the face of the fort; but here, the depth of the ditch, and the slanting stakes at the top of it, again baffled their attempts. The enemy lost not a moment in pouring their fire upon the assailants, and the loud death-screams told that the crisis was becoming more and more imminent. The alarm-bells in the city itself now rung out their shrill sounds, the guns on the walls and on the castle opened on the assailants, rockets were thrown up by the besieged, and the answering shots from the trenches served to increase the tumult. All eyes were turned in the direction of the fort. A battalion, hastily sent out from the city, advanced to its aid; but they had scarcely entered the communication, when the troops stationed there rushed to the onset, and in a few moments they were driven back within the walls. By the light of those streams of fire, which ascended every moment from the Picurina, dark forms might be seen struggling on the ramparts, in all the energy of determined contest. Continued rounds of artillery had broken down the palisades in front, and the assailants were fighting, hand to hand, for an entrance.
The party in the rear of the fort had thrown their ladders, like bridges, across the ditch, resting them on the slanting stakes, and springing on them, drove back their guards. Fifty men, bearing axes, now discovered the gate, which soon fell beneath their blows, and they rushed in to a nearer contest. The little garrison, stern in their resistance, did what they could. Powis, Gips, Holloway and Oates, fell on the ramparts. Nixon, Shaw, and Rudd, were not long behind. Scarcely an officer was left; and yet the struggle continued. At length, when only eighty-six men remained, they surrendered, and the Picurina passed to the allies. Only one hour had that fierce conflict lasted, yet of our troops four officers and fifty men had fallen, and fifteen officers and two hundred and fifty men were wounded. Phillipon felt deeply the loss of this fort. He did not conceal from his soldiers the increase of danger to their city from it; but he stimulated their courage by reminding them that death was far preferable to an abode in the English prison-ships. They deeply felt that appeal, and, with the first dawn of light, their guns were manned with renewed activity. These were turned against the fort, and so raked it that it was impossible for our troops to remain there, and it was deserted. This victory gave fresh courage to the besiegers. Our whole force was occupied, the three succeeding nights, in erecting new batteries, and in extending the parallels and communications. In the daytime, comparatively little could be done, as the fire from the town so galled the workmen. Repeatedly they dismounted our guns, and destroyed the defences which had been erected to shield the laborers, so that we were obliged to wait until the darkness prevented their marksmen from taking aim, in order to carry on our works. The night of the 27th, an attempt was made to destroy the dam, which had been built for the purpose of forming an inundation, and lessening the space where our troops could work; but the moon had now made her appearance, and shone so brightly that the effort was unsuccessful.
On this night a most daring feat was performed by one of the French. Having disguised himself, he crept over the wall, and concealed himself until he had caught the watchword for the night. Then, boldly mingling with the troops, he proceeded to the works. Here the engineer had placed a line to mark the direction of the sap. Just before the workmen arrived, he moved the string, until he brought it within complete range of the castle guns. The men commenced work at once, but the light of the moon enabled the guns to tell with fearful precision upon them; and it was not until a severe loss had been sustained, that the mistake was discovered. Meanwhile, the intruder stole quietly back to his old quarters, which he reached unmolested.
Soult, trusting to the strong intrenchments of the place, had but little fear that it would finally surrender; but he knew a hard-fought battle was inevitable. He therefore endeavored, as much as possible, to concentrate his forces near; but, while they were marching for this purpose, Graham and Hill attacked their flanks, and forced them to take another direction. The whole of the Spanish army now moved on to the Ronda hills, and threatened to attack Seville. This movement obliged Soult to detach a large part of his army to the assistance of this city, and had, as the event proved, fatally delayed his march to Badajos. On the 30th, Wellington received information that Soult had resumed his march, and would soon arrive; but this news only served to hasten the preparations for the attack. Forty-eight pieces of artillery were now constantly playing against the San Roque, and the siege advanced at all points. Still the San Roque stood firm. General Picton was the more anxious for its destruction, as the inundation, which was caused by the dam, and protected by this lunette, prevented the free action of the troops.
On the night of the 1st of April, several brave fellows determined to see if they could not accomplish by stratagem what open force had failed to effect. Two officers placed themselves at the head of a small company of sappers. Under cover of the darkness, and their motions encumbered by the powder they were obliged to carry, they stole rapidly, but noiselessly, into the camp of the enemy. It was, indeed, a dangerous experiment. The least noise, the slightest accident, might alarm the sentinel; and then, they well knew, none would return to tell their fate. Scarcely venturing to breathe, they reached, in safety, a spot near the place. One of the officers then went to examine the dam. During his absence, the rest of the party could see the sentinel, as he approached within a very few feet of where they lay concealed. They saw, if they could dispose of him without noise, they might probably accomplish their aim undiscovered. The officer, having examined the dam, now returned, just as the sentinel approached. “Now, boys, is your time,” he whispered. “Remember, one word, one sound, and we are lost.” Riquet, a powerful Irishman, selected for this purpose, seized his cloak, and stood prepared. As the man was passing, he sprang forward, and, throwing his cloak over him, he was in an instant gagged and bound. Then, rapidly and silently, the powder was placed against the dam, the train laid, and the match applied. They waited a moment, to see that it was not extinguished, and then hastily retreated. A few moments passed, and the loud explosion was the first intelligence the enemy had of the intrusion. All eyes were bent anxiously upon the spot, but our hopes were destined to a sad disappointment. The dam stood firm, and the inundations still remained. But, although this brave attempt had failed, it soon became apparent to our general that the crisis was rapidly approaching. The bastions of the Trinidad and the Santa Maria had already given way; the breaches were daily enlarging, and hope grew strong that we should succeed in reducing the place before Soult should arrive. Nor were the enemy blind to their danger. They had already built a strong intrenchment behind the walls. Now they converted the nearest houses and garden-walls into a third line of defence.