Our case was, consequently, widely different as the quiet imprisonment of our disorderly comrade before-mentioned fully proved; we were received, also, everywhere with open arms, and were well backed, if not by the courage, by their best provision resources. We could, with safety, leave whole hospitals behind us, whilst the sick and wounded of our opponents, the French, were, in many instances, slaughtered wholesale by the citizens.
But with all these advantages in our favour, we yet, as it were, lay between two stools. The natives were not to be relied on, and though drawn up with us on most occasions, generally left the British to bear the brunt of action. Thus often and too truly showing that a weak friend is frequently more dangerous than a determined enemy.
CHAPTER IX.
General Crauford leaves for England—Sir William Erskine takes the command—Mounseer Strauss—We enter Santarem—Scenes of horror—Mile posts of the “grande armée”—Retaliations of the Portuguese—Two upon one—Pombal—Smart work—German gallantry—Auction—A new division—Redinha—An accident—Long Tom of Lincoln—The deserter—A return of favours.
In the month of February, General Crauford went to England on leave, and the command of the light division, during his absence, devolved upon Major-General Sir William Erskine.
On the night of the 5th of March we were suddenly ordered to fall in, as intelligence had reached us that the French were evacuating Santarem. This was soon ascertained to be the fact, and we immediately commenced an advance, crossing the bridge in our front at three o’clock on the morning of the 6th.
Ours being the senior captain of the regiment, the company, as was usual, were in the advance, when some of the front files suddenly came within a few yards of what appeared to be a French sentinel, leaning against a wall that ran along from the bridge. One of our fellows fired, but perceiving no movement made, we all rushed up, and discovered him to be, what our money-changers at home have so great a horror of, “a man of straw,” or a piece of sacking stuffed and accoutred. This afforded a fit theme for joking, as we carried our “prisoner” with us until we came to Santarem.
Our march was uninterrupted, and over a bold thickly wooded country, much cut up, however, by the retreating enemy; about mid-day we entered Santarem, where a sight of a most horrifying description offered itself. The streets and houses presented a mass of desolation and filth, which, in some degree, contaminated the air around, while to add to the picture, numbers of half-starved looking Frenchmen were grouped about in knots, and exhibiting the loathsome appearance of disease. The faces of many of these poor fellows were dreadfully swollen and white. Our men were moved to pity at the scene, and threw them biscuits as we passed through the town.
Massena had not the means of conveyance for the whole of his sick, and had been obliged to leave these to their fate. This, indeed, would have been soon decided had the Portuguese first come up with them.
At every mile the enemy, on their retreat, had fixed finger posts with directions to the road the “grande armée” had taken, they sufficiently directed us also. But after all, these were of little service, for straggling groups of the unfortunate enemy strewed the road as we advanced over it. The poor fellows, at first, would greet the English with a faint hope of protection, and turned up their swollen and pallid countenances to us with expressions that needed not words to explain them. But we were obliged to pass on and leave them, for aught I know, to be butchered by the inhabitants, who fearfully retaliated for all the scenes we had witnessed. At night we encamped on the outskirts of a small village, the name I do not recollect, but the sights within it I never can forget.