After I had recovered from the shock, I joined in the pursuit of the enemy, who once or twice attempted to make a stand, but we were close at their heels, so they thought it better to pursue their way at an accelerated pace, covered, however, by some battalions of light troops, who displayed considerable coolness. The French descended the heights, at the foot of which stands the pretty little town of St. Jean de Luz, with its white houses. Our battalion was hotly following, engaged in sharp skirmishing, when our gallant Colonel, Sir Andrew Barnard, who was very conspicuous during the day, on a brown long-tailed horse, received a shot in the breast. On running up to him, which I did with several other men, we perceived him spit blood, but he would not dismount. One of our buglers supported him on his horse, while another led it to the rear.
Immediately after this occurrence, my attention was attracted by seeing the 52nd regiment charge up the side of a hill on our right, and take a fort. Shots are very strange things, and fly fast: a Sergeant Watts, of the Rifles, at this moment, received a ball in the head, being next to him, he laid hold of me with both hands, at the same time calling out—“Am I dead? Am I dead?” Poor fellow! he was mortally wounded, and it was with difficulty I could extricate myself from his deadly grasp.
The French, after a severe loss, made good their retreat across the river that leads to St. Jean de Luz. With our usual luck we took up our camp on the side of a bleak and barren hill for the night. After this we got into better quarters on the other side of the river. This was at a château called Arcangues. We were as usual in the immediate front of the enemy, and our outlying sentinels and theirs were little more than thirty yards apart. While here, such a good feeling reigned among the French and our men, that they frequently went into each other’s picquet houses—terms of intimacy which they extended to neither the Spanish nor Portuguese troops, for whom they expressed an unmeasured contempt. But this state of things at our outposts was too subversive of discipline to be tolerated by those in command, and of course was only done upon a reliance of mutual honour on the sly; still it exhibits a pleasing picture of the absence of all revenge and prejudice on either side among men of opposing interests. This feeling, however, could not stay the effusion of blood that was still to be shed.
CHAPTER XXI.
9th December—Our picquets driven in—We are nearly outflanked—We retire—A rally under the eye of Wellington—Lieutenant Hopwood and Sergeant Brotherwood killed—Excellent feeling between the French and English soldiers—Consequent General Order—Johnny Castles in the advance—Picquet-house—Murder at Tarbes—Blanco again—Collection made for the widow—Battle of Toulouse—“Amende Honourable”—We encamp on the banks of the Garonne—“Fall in”—The Spaniards make a mistake—General Picton rectifies it—The enemy retreat into Toulouse—They evacuate the town—French leave—Theatre of Toulouse—“A Rifleman on the look out.”
On the 9th of December they drove in the picquets, which were chiefly furnished from our battalion. The columns of the enemy came briskly forward with the apparent intention of driving us from our position. Our company had been ordered to line some brushwood on the side of a lane that led from the château, where we received them with a fierce and deadly fire, as they came on, which they replied to with spirit, at the same time endeavouring to outflank our position. In assisting to repel this attempt we came in for a shower of shot, and Lieutenant Hopwood and Sergeant Brotherwood, with several more of our party, were killed on the spot. By this time they were getting round us, and our opponents perceiving how few our numbers were, comparatively to their own, at once attempted to close, and fairly obliged us to take to our heels down a field. From thence we sprang into the lane; in doing which I remember dropping my cap, where it remained during the day, until I regained possession of it on the retreat of the enemy.
At this period Lord Wellington and his staff were watching our motions through their glasses from the château, which some one made known. Seeing ourselves under the eye of the Commander-in-chief, we instantly rallied. Our third battalion meanwhile were hotly engaged on our left. They, however, found themselves unable to make any serious impression, and were not sorry, I dare say, when night closed upon their baffled columns. As to ourselves, we had little respite from the fatigues of the day, as we were busily employed in fortifying the château for the anticipated attack of the morrow.
On the following morning however, the enemy retreated within their works, upon which we took possession of our former ground, where we found the bodies of Lieutenant Hopwood and of poor Brotherwood, both of which had been stripped, and covered partially with a little loose earth.
After this we had a succession of fights or skirmishes with the enemy for the five or six days following, which is called the battle of Bayonne, but without eliciting any particular result. We still kept up an excellent private feeling on both sides at the outposts. As an instance, although I must remark a general order had been promulgated prohibiting all intercourse with the enemy on pain of death, our company was on picquet near a dwelling called Garrett’s house, when we clubbed half a dollar each, and sent a man into the French picquet-house to purchase brandy. It was, I recollect, Christmas-night. Grindle, the name of the man who was our messenger, staying longer than was usual, we became alarmed, and imagining something must have happened to him, sent two other men in quest of him. These learnt from the nearest French sentry that Grindle was lying drunk in their picquet-house. Fearful that the circumstances should come to the knowledge of Lieutenant Gardiner, the officer of our picquet, they went and brought Grindle back with them quite drunk; but just as they were emerging from the French lines, who should ride down to the front post but Sir James Kempt, who commanded our division at that time. He instantly ordered Grindle to be confined; he was so fortunate as to escape, however, with only a slight punishment.
About the beginning of January, 1814, the enemy were seen advancing, as we understood, to straighten our lines, that were in a half circle. With three or four others, I was ordered to hold possession of a small farm-house that communicated with some cross roads, and to keep up a brisk fire until the assemblée sounded, in which case we were to retreat upon the company, who occupied a hedge two hundred yards in our rear. On our right was a high stone wall, and on our left, in parallel, was a hedge also that served as a cover for the French who, by this time, had possession of it. Between was an open field, our only passage. As soon as the assemblée was heard, we of course, were on the alert to retreat, but this was to be accomplished only at very imminent risk, for the moment we showed our noses, we were saluted with a regular hailstorm of bullets, which put us all in rather moody condition. It was proposed, however, to retire by independent files.