At Atalaya we were very much in the advance of the main army: the distance made it difficult for the commissariat to forward our rations regularly, and we, consequently, suffered dreadfully through want; and, I may say, underwent more privations than at any other place in Spain, excepting at Dough Boy Hill. The deficiency of bread we had been obliged to make up with roasted or boiled chesnuts, of which we were always allowed a quart a day each. At length we found it necessary to make an incursion into the mountains, to press the Alcaldes of the different villages to supply us.
On one of these expeditions, under charge of a quarter-master, we observed two persons mounted on mules, riding towards us. On their approach we remarked to one another the light-haired appearance of one, and the singularity of a “fair-complexioned Spaniard,” when the fellow suddenly stopped his mule, and jumping toward us exclaimed, “Oh, by the merciful God, are ye English?” He was immediately answered from a dozen voices in the affirmative, and we discovered him to be one of our cavalry men, who having been made a prisoner by the French at Talavera, had since escaped. His short stay among the Spaniards had not spoilt his “brogue,” and he gave us in the real Irish accent, a full account of his adventures.
When the enemy took him, dragoon-like, together with a slight wound, he could not keep up with his captors, who, having no mules, were in the practice of pressing the strongest and most robust of the inhabitants and making them carry the English prisoners on their backs, now and then keeping up their stamina by pricking their hind-quarters with the bayonets. Our cavalier consequently found himself mounted in like manner; the close contact, however, that this brought him in with the ears of his bearers was followed by whispers, and the Spaniards no doubt as tired of their burthen as the burthen of the French, slipped him into a house on the way-side, whence, having quickly shaved the top of his sconce, they passed him as a priest, and he escaped with them into the mountains. He there got amongst the Guerillas, under Don Julian Sanchez, of whom he gave us many amusing anecdotes, and who passed him on till he reached us. As soon as we returned to the village he reported himself to General Crauford, who laughed heartily at the details he gave of himself, and ordered his servant to give him a coat to supply his almost naked condition until he rejoined his regiment. Meanwhile he was ordered to stop with our company, and took up his quarters in the house with me.
Among other amusements before detailed, we used to get up jumping, wrestling, and cuffing-matches with the peasantry, who generally joined most heartily in the fun. One day, however, a Spaniard of theirs, being over-matched, became exceedingly nettled, and commenced quarrelling with one of our sergeants, named Kitchen; the result was they came to blows, when after two or three slight cuffs the peasant fell suddenly and expired. The village, of course, became a scene of uproar, and we were obliged, to satisfy the inhabitants, to hold a kind of inquest upon him. However, the barber, or “Sangrado” of the place, together with our own surgeon, to their extreme mortification declared, that the man had injured the spleen of his stomach, and actually had died through spite.
I must not forget to mention the sagacity of the pigs, which, in great numbers were kept by the farmers of the village. Though belonging to different owners they all obeyed one master, who, it may be said, with the Alcalde, held absolute sway over “man and beast.” Early in the morning the animals were assembled, by the sounding of a horn, and taken by him into the wood to feed on acorns, and at night were driven home again in like manner, the swine-herd’s only deputies being a short iron on the end of a stick, somewhat like that used by our shepherds. The anxiety of the animals, immediately they heard the tones of his instrument, was remarkable, and if they chanced to be confined at the time, their screams and grunts grew most vociferous, and might be heard a mile off. Indeed it was only for the herdsman to tune up at any time of the day they would come to him instantly, and seldom even one was missing, save and except now and then when they chanced to fall into the clutches of our riflemen.
About this period General Marmont, who had succeeded Massena in command of the French army, having concentrated his force, was enabled to relieve Rodrigo. Making a forward movement after this, it was found high time for our regiment to retire. This we did at an hour’s notice, as we heard the enemy were stirring to beat up our quarters. We fell in at dead of night, and after making a semi-circular march, for there were some fears of the enemy cutting us off, we arrived at El Bodon. There we found the greater part of the army assembled under Lord Wellington, together with the remainder of our light division, who loudly cheered us as we made our appearance, a report having arisen amongst the rest of the troops that one battalion had been all taken prisoners.
On our arrival, most of us were occupied gleaning accounts of the battle of El Bodon, which had been fought the day before, in which the 5th and 77th regiments, as we then heard, had much distinguished themselves, resisting the desperate charges made upon them by the Polish Lancers in the French service.
From El Bodon, where we remained some time, we retreated to Soito, and shortly afterwards returned to Guinaldo, a town still closer to the city of Ciudad Rodrigo. In the beginning of January, 1812, our division commenced investing Ciudad. The first day, our brigade crossed the Agueda, about three miles up the river from the city, round which we marched, keeping always at a most respectful distance on account of their round-shot. From the idea this survey gave us of Rodrigo there were few of our men not aware of the great strength of the fortress and outworks, but it afforded only a subject for jest; as I believe at that time, such was the confidence that filled the ranks of our division, it would have been difficult to persuade the men that they could not beat the French, under any odds.
The same evening, Colonel Colborne, with less than two hundred men, of the 43rd, 52nd, and Rifles, carried in the most gallant manner a strong fort of the enemy. Prior to its being stormed a number of Caçadores had been ordered to take blankets to convey away the wounded French as well as the British. But most of those employed in this duty took advantage of it to strip the prisoners, whom to the number of fifty they left almost as naked as they were born, and exposed to all the rigours of the inclement month of January. I was present near the tent of General Crauford, when a talkative, smart little Frenchman, whom I guessed to be an officer, was brought before him; the poor fellow had nothing on but his trowsers, and bled profusely from the nose and mouth, through the blows he had received.
The General was very chagrined at the sight, and lamented his inability to give him clothes, his own baggage being so distant. Tom Crawley, however, who had been actively employed hunting the Portuguese from them, immediately stepped forward, and touching his hat after his own inimitable manner, “Yer honner,” said Tom, his eyes sparkling at being able to assist, “I’ll lend him my great coat, if ye’ll allow me.”