With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

by F. S. Brereton

Portugal was entirely in the hands of the British. Spain was beckoning strongly. Wellington, gathering his faithful and war-worn troops about him, was about to plunge into the heart of Andalusia, and, quitting the siege of fortresses, was eager to try conclusions with the enemy in the open. But he was ever a careful man, and as a preliminary to invasion and attack upon the Duke of Ragusa he planned the destruction of the bridge erected at Almarez, spanning the Tagus, and protected by forts immensely strengthened by the French. Here were known to be collected huge stores of ammunition, while the bridge itself served as a means of communication between one French army and another. With the crossing destroyed, Wellington might hope to throw himself upon the enemy with good chance of success; for by keeping the various forces of the enemy apart he might reasonably expect to beat them in detail, victory against the vast masses of French when combined being out of the question. Thus Almarez and the bridge spanning the historic Tagus now attracted his attention, as well as the formidable forts erected to protect the same.

Let us describe in a few words the condition of the surrounding country. From Almarez itself to the city of Toledo the left bank of the River Tagus is hemmed in by a range of steep mountains. From Almarez again to the Portuguese frontier, roads in those days were almost non-existent, and the crossing in any case most difficult; while farther east the bridges at Arzobispo and Talavera were covered by the neighbouring high ground.

The River Tagus itself separated the armies of Soult and of Marmont, and, seeing that Soult's pontoon train had been captured in Badajoz, there was left no other means of communication between the armies than the bridge of boats at Almarez, which the critical eye of Wellington had already selected for destruction. But, as we have hinted, there were difficulties in the way; for in view of the importance of the place, and of the mass of stores of one sort or another concentrated there, the French had made every preparation to protect the bridge. A fort had been erected on the north bank, another at the opposite end of the bridge, while the heights immediately adjacent on the latter side had been connected by a chain of works which a casual inspection would have said defied assault. Yet Wellington considered that Sir Rowland Hill, in command of a force 6000 strong, would contrive to overcome all difficulties, and that gallant officer promptly marched from the camp which the British had now formed, for since the fall of Badajoz our forces had marched north to the Tagus, and had crossed the river. A small expeditionary arm was therefore within striking distance of the all-important crossing at Almarez. Secrecy, as in the case of the descents on Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, was essential in this adventure, and Sir Rowland, therefore, marched at night-time, secreting his whole force in the wood of Jarciejo during the day, this wood being in the immediate neighbourhood of the enemy. Then his men were divided into three columns, and in the early hours, while darkness yet hid the land, they set out upon an expedition destined to prove amongst the most brilliant of any recorded during this long campaign in the Peninsula. For the plans of generals, like those of other more humble individuals perhaps, are destined at times to be overthrown, and here was an example. That secrecy at which Sir Rowland Hill aimed was destroyed by a combination of circumstances, so that the garrisons of the forts about to be attacked became aware of his intentions. Yet the work was done, and done brilliantly, though only at a heavy sacrifice. The forts were taken, the bridge secured, while the losses of the enemy were very heavy. Then, expedition being an essential point, mines were laid, and the works, or a portion of them, destroyed. When Sir Rowland returned to Wellington's camp he was able to report the success of the expedition, while Wellington himself was now able seriously to consider the question of an attack upon the enemy in the open; for the first step toward that effort had been taken. Easy communication between the enemy was destroyed, and now had come the opportunity to seek out and beat in detail the armies of Napoleon.

Forward, then, was the order, and 21st July, 1812, found Wellington and his army north of the Tagus, close to Salamanca and to the Rivers Tormes and Huebra, having meanwhile cleared the intervening country and besieged the Salamanca forts. Marmont, with his French battalions, now lay before him; for they had crossed the river between Huerta and Tormes, and were endeavouring to secure the road to Ciudad Rodrigo. However, if Wellington, as a clever tactician, as he undoubtedly was, had as his object the division of the enemy's forces, with a view of beating them in detail, Marmont also was not unskilful. Remembering the comparative paucity of the British troops, and the fact that they had, as it were, burned their boats behind them, he hoped to throw his troops between our regiments and the fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo, then garrisoned by British, thus not only cutting communication between Wellington and the fortress, but also drawing a line of fire and steel between the British and Portugal, to which country they would naturally retreat in case of defeat or in the event of huge odds being concentrated against them.

Thus, having brought our gallant fellows face to face with an equally gallant enemy in the open, and having reviewed the movements of this difficult and complex campaign, we can leave the two rival armies in position for battle, and can once more seek out Tom Clifford, commander of the composite force of Portuguese and Spanish guerrillas, which, amidst a host of irregular British allies—some good, some indifferent, and some altogether useless and even dangerous—had already earned a name for energy and a patriotic spirit worthy of emulation amongst many chicken-hearted countrymen. Back, then, to Badajoz, let us retrace our steps, and, accepting the salutes of the Spanish and Portuguese sentries—smart fellows both—hammer on the door of the courtyard and enter, there to be greeted by the faithful Howeley and Andrews.

Some weeks had passed since Tom had joined the forlorn hope, and had been blown like a stone down the steep scarp of the breach effected by our gunners. He sat in an armchair, his feet on a stool, Jack Barwood discussing matters with him, and at the same time smoking a pipe which he had secured in the dwelling.

"Of course," Tom was saying in his business-like way, "orders are orders. But——"

"They're a beastly nuisance for all that. Granted," was Jack's interruption. "Well?"

"And, equally of course, must be obeyed. 'Pon my word, Jack, you seem to be as keen as I am on this quest. What's it to do with you, anyway?"