With the British Legion: A Story of the Carlist Wars

by G. A. Henty

Most of the officers found life at Vittoria terribly dull, but to Arthur the time passed pleasantly enough. He spent two or three hours a day working hard at Spanish, and he went every morning to a teacher of fencing, reasoning that as the sword was now his weapon he ought to be able to use it. Some of the officers were inclined to laugh at the time he expended on study and exercise, but he retorted that it was a good deal more pleasant than sitting in cafés trying to kill time. But, indeed, there was plenty to do. The hardships suffered by the troops were extreme; no pay was forthcoming; the amount of rations served out was barely sufficient to keep life together. The quarters assigned to them were bitterly cold, and they suffered terribly throughout the winter. Hundreds died; thousands were so reduced by illness that they had to be sent down to the seaport, where very many more died; large numbers were invalided home, and but a comparatively small portion ever took their places again in the ranks of the Legion.

The officers did all they could to mitigate the sufferings of the men, but they, too, received no pay; and, except in the matter of quarters, were as badly off as the others. Some of them who were men of fortune were able to get little comforts for the sick; the rest could only show their sympathy by visiting them, and talking cheeringly to them. And, indeed, the disgust and fury of the men were so great that, had they received orders to do so, they would joyfully have set out on the march south, cut their way through the Carlists and Christinos alike, and made at least an effort to overthrow the government that had broken all its engagements to them and left them to die like dogs. What still more enraged them was, that while all this time they were left to starve, the magazines Of the Spanish troops were full, and the men well fed and clothed.

With spring there was a slight improvement in matters. The remonstrances of the British general and the British government had had some slight effect. A small amount of pay was issued, and rations were served out with a little more regularity.

There was joy in every heart when it became known that the long period of inactivity had come to an end, and that a move was about to be made. As long as they formed part of the force commanded by the Spanish general Cordova, they felt that nothing could be done. The Carlists occupied the hills round Vittoria, and at times sent parties almost up to the town, but nothing could arouse Cordova from his lethargy, or induce him to make any serious efforts to dislodge the enemy. He was, it was reported, going to co-operate with General Evans by attacking the rear of the Carlists, while the Legion was to attempt to drive them back from the strong positions they occupied outside San Sebastian; but both officers and men scoffed at the idea that Cordova would move out of Vittoria, and the general opinion was that the Legion would do better if it relied upon its own fighting powers rather than upon any Spanish co-operation.

By this time the mob of men who composed the Legion had been, by incessant drill, converted into soldiers, who only wanted a baptism of fire to take their place side by side with veterans. In point of appearance they were not much to look at. The clothes in which for nearly six months they had lived and slept were almost in rags, but their bearing was erect. Suffering had set a stern expression on their faces, and General Evans, as they marched out from Vittoria, felt that they could be thoroughly relied on. Many who had just recovered from sickness were still thin and feeble, and really unfit for work, but all who could possibly accompany the force had obtained their release from hospital, and were the envy of many hundreds of their comrades who were incapable of moving, and of whom the greater part were destined never to leave Vittoria.

As the Carlists lay between Vittoria and San Sebastian, the force was compelled to march down to Santander. The men enjoyed the change; the fresh warm breezes of spring reanimated them. Many, it was true, were forced to lag behind, but most of these afterwards rejoined, though some were murdered by the peasantry, who were, to a man, hostile. A strong rear-guard, however, moved slowly behind the column, collecting those who had fallen by the way, and only arriving at Santander twenty-four hours after the rest. As soon as the head of the column reached Santander they were taken on board ship. There was only sufficient transport to carry half the Legion, but the distance was short, and in four days half the force were assembled at San Sebastian.

All felt that the change from Vittoria was a pleasant one. San Sebastian stands at the extremity of a low sandy tongue of land washed on the east by the Urumea, and on the north and west by the Bay of Biscay, and attached to the mainland only on the south by a narrow isthmus. It was strong both by nature and art, being defended by walls and bastions, and almost free from the possibility of attack on the sea or river faces by the fact that, except at low tide, there was scarce room for troops to be landed near the foot of the walls. The town had been almost destroyed by being fired by the French in the memorable siege of 1813, when it cost the British nearly fifteen thousand men in killed and wounded to capture it. The fire had been a great advantage to it, for the narrow streets and alleys had been swept away and replaced by broad streets and well-built houses. The inhabitants here were divided in their sympathies, the mercantile classes being with the Christinos.

The heights beyond the end of the low peninsula were occupied by the Carlists in great force. Their motive in thus wasting their strength when they might have been better employed in the field was not very clear to Arthur and his brother officers. It was certain that they could not carry the place by assault; and as the sea was open to its defenders, it was equally impossible for them to reduce it by hunger.

The place showed few signs of being beleaguered. The town was full, as it contained many refugee families from the surrounding country. The shops were well filled with goods. In the evening the promenades were thronged with well-dressed people, who paraded up and down to the strains of military music. The cafés were crowded, and everywhere there was an appearance of life and animation. The people viewed with astonishment the ragged appearance of the regiment as they landed, and many small kindnesses were shown to them. The effect of the sea air and the bright sun did much for the troops, and in a week after their arrival they had so far smartened themselves up that they made a decent show. The officers fraternized with those of the ships of war, and although its numbers were sadly thinned since its arrival in Spain, the Legion had recovered much of its jauntiness and self-confidence.

"This is a glorious change," Arthur said to one of his comrades, as they leant on the battlements and looked out over the sea. A good many ships were in the port, some of them transports, others laden with stores; and the sounds of music in the town came to their ears. "One begins to feel that after all one did not make a great mistake in entering the Legion--not that I have ever greatly repented the step. I have been most fortunate in getting promotion. I have come to speak Spanish decently, and I have certainly learnt how to fence."