CHAPTER XX.
We encamp on the banks of the Bidassoa—Scenes on the water-edge—A narrow escape with a lady in question, “Ah, there’s the rub”—Tom Crawley and the biscuits—Our third battalion carry the heights of Vera—The French camp, “the last of the French”—The Pyrenees—The mountain father—Up hill and down dale—The battle of the Nivelle—Manly and Spanish affection—Blanco again—His gallantry—Tom Crawley—A hug from a granny dear—The last struggle—Crawley’s departure—A tear for Tom—A reel—St. Jean de Luz—The French endeavour to make a stand—Colonel Sir Andrew Barnard wounded—Death messengers fly fast.
We remained encamped, for several weeks, close to the river Bidassoa, Lesaca in our rear, and Vera in our front. We used to amuse ourselves while here, bathing. This river which divides the French and Spanish territories, we were on the eve of crossing to go into France. It was heart-stirring to witness our men, as it were, unconsciously exposing to liberated Spain the evidence of the dangers they had endured for her liberation, stripped on its banks, and prepared to dash into the clear water, the perforated and wounded exteriors of the Rifles proved what they had seen and suffered. But the veterans, not thinking thus, generally amused themselves on these occasions by remarking and jesting to each other on the peculiar situation of the different bullet holes, and the direction the shot had taken in passing through them.
One day I remember nearly losing my life by my own folly. It was as follows:—We had a very handsome little Spanish girl attached to one of our sergeants, named Dillon: she by some means got to the other side of the river, which was generally occupied by the enemy, crying bitterly, and begging of the men, that were on our side, to get her over, as she was afraid to go to a bridge lower down lest she should be taken by the French. Having a respect for her, I instantly stripped off all except my trowsers, and swam across—for here the river was not wide but deep—and, without a moment’s hesitation, placed pretty Louisa, for so she was called, on my back, with the intention, as I thought, of bringing her to our side. Placing her arms round my neck, I waded as far as I was able, and then commenced swimming; but I no sooner got into the deep water than she squeezed me so tight round the neck that I lost all power, although a good swimmer, and down I went. At first our fellows thought I was playing tricks; but on rising and bellowing out for assistance, they became alarmed, for she stuck to me all the time like a leech. Several of the men upon seeing me go down a second time, stripped and jumped in to my assistance; one of the name of Kelly, of my own company, diving down, for the place was twelve feet deep, seized her by her long hair, and brought both to the surface of the water; and, by the assistance of the rest, dragged us to land insensible. When I came to myself, I found our head surgeon, Dr. Burke, with some of our fellows, rubbing me to life again; and, with the assistance of a little brandy they had poured down our throats, both recovered. For myself, I was able to walk to my tent in the course of some time: but not so with the pretty Louisa, as she was kept wrapped in blankets the whole day. Poor thing! she remained with the regiment while in Spain, and afterwards followed us to England; but what ultimately became of her, I know not.
Here my old friend, Tom Crawley, got the whole of our regiment out of a precious scrape. It was as follows:—Our division was served out with linen bags, made exactly to fit across our knapsacks, and, at the same time, three days’ biscuit (3 lbs.) in each bag. This biscuit was to be kept strapped on the top of each man’s knapsack, well tied, with brigade orders for no man to taste a morsel of it, unless given out in written orders to that effect, as our brigadier expected we should be on short commons while on the Pyrenees, and this was to be, in case of scarcity, our last resource. These bags were examined regularly every morning by officers commanding companies, but, while seen strapped snugly on the knapsacks, were considered by them all right. However, our fellows, who were never at a loss for a subterfuge, devised the following plan to evade the officers’ vigilance: they eat their biscuits except one whole one, which they kept at top to be seen, and in their place substituted chips. This passed on very well for some time, as the sight of the top biscuit satisfied the officers, until one day Captain Johnson of our regiment took it into his head to see his company’s biscuit shaken out, and whilst on private parade ordered them to untie their bags to see their biscuit. The first man on the right of his company was the unfortunate Tom Crawley.
“Untie your bag, Crawley,” says the Captain. Tom instantly did as he was ordered, and showed the Captain a very good-looking biscuit a-top.
“Shake the whole out,” said the Captain, “until I see if they are getting mouldy.”
“Oh, faith, there is no fear of that,” said the astonished Crawley, looking the Captain hard in the face, at the same time casting a woeful eye on his bag. However, the Captain was not to be baulked, and taking the bag by both ends, emptied out its contents, which turned out to be nothing more nor less than a few dry chips. Poor Tom, as upright as a dart, stood scratching his head, with a countenance that would make a saint laugh.
“What have you done with your biscuit? have you eaten it, Sir?” said the Captain. Tom, motionless, made no answer. “Do you know it is against orders?”
“To be sure I do,” says Tom; “but, for God’s sake, Sir, do you take me for a South American jackass, that carries gold and eats straw?”[[20]] This answer not only set the Captain, but the whole company, in roars of laughter. On further inspection, the Captain found his whole company, indeed the regiment, had adopted the same plan. Through this our bags were taken away, and we relieved from carrying chips.