The subaltern

by G. R. Gleig

At last the gale moderated, and we once more put to sea; but only to be driven hither and thither by the most provokingly adverse weather to which men thirsting for military glory were ever exposed. Brighton, Worthing, Hastings, Eastbourne, all made their appearance in succession, and all remained so long in sight that we cordially wished them engulfed in the ocean. At the same tedious rate we moved onwards till Plymouth harbour lay before us; into which we were necessitated to put, for the purpose of renewing our fresh provisions and water.

In this place nearly another precious week was wasted; consequently July was far advanced ere we could be said to have commenced our voyage in earnest; nor was it till the 13th day of August that the bold outline of the Spanish coast became discernible. In crossing the Bay of Biscay we had been baffled by continual calms, and tossed about by the swell which usually prevails there. Our sails were, for the most part, useless, flapping indolently upon the masts; and though we did our best to keep up a good heart, we were all, both officers and men, beginning to wish ourselves anywhere rather than cooped up in a transport, when a cry of "land" from the masthead attracted our attention.

We had kept our direct course so well, notwithstanding frequent calms and adverse breezes, that the only coast we made, after losing sight of the Scilly Isles, was that of Biscay. The province of Biscay is in general rugged and mountainous, the Pyrenees extending in some places to the water's edge; and hence the voyager who beholds that coast for the first time is apt to imagine himself near the conclusion of his voyage long before the situation of the vessel authorises him so to do. Such was precisely the case with us on the present occasion. Turning our eyes in the direction to which the look-out seaman pointed, and beholding a line of coast so bold that almost all its features were clearly distinguishable, we fondly flattered ourselves that this evening, or the next morning at latest, would see us on shore. But hour after hour passed by without bringing us in any sensible degree nearer to the object of our gaze; and though the wind, which had hitherto blown against us, was now in our favour, daylight departed, leaving us almost as much at a loss as ever, to say whether we had gained upon the land or otherwise.

Next morning, when I ascended the deck, I was delighted to perceive that we were not more than three or four miles from shore, and that we were moving steadily along at the rate of five miles and a half in the hour. By-and-by a merchant vessel hailed and informed us of the battles of the Pyrenees and their results, and of the investiture of St Sebastian; and as the day wore on we had the farther gratification of seeing the gun-brig, under whose convoy we sailed, make prize of a tight-built American privateer schooner. But nothing as yet could be discovered of the harbour of Passages, towards which we were bound; and this day, accordingly, passed as others had done, under the galling pressure of hope deferred.

On the 17th of August, the first decisive indication of our approach to the seat of war was given in the sound of a cannonade, heard at first indistinctly, but becoming every hour more and more audible. This, we had little doubt, proceeded from the town of St Sebastian, and from the batteries of its besiegers; but it was in vain that we turned our glasses in the direction of the sound, with the hope of ascertaining whether or no the supposition was correct. Though we strained our eyes with the utmost anxiety as long as daylight lasted, nothing could be descried which repaid the exertion; and we were once more compelled to contemplate with resignation the prospect of spending another night in the extreme confinement of a cabin. The dawn of the following day, however, excited new and livelier emotions, when we found ourselves within a few hours' sail of the landing-place, and in a situation perhaps as interesting as can well be imagined to a soldier about for the first time to confront war.

On ascending the deck at six o'clock in the morning of the 18th, I perceived that we were lying under the influence of a dead calm, within range of the guns of the Castle of St Sebastian, and at the distance of perhaps a mile and a half from shore. This fortress is built upon the summit of a perpendicular rock, of some two or three hundred feet high, the base of which is washed on three sides by the sea; and when viewed, as we then saw it, from the water, presents a very formidable appearance. Its works, owing to their great height, are placed completely beyond the reach of molestation from a hostile squadron; while powerful batteries, rising tier above tier, wherever a platform in the rock has permitted one to be established, threaten with destruction any vessel which may rashly venture within reach of their fire.

On the right of the castle is a small bay, which forms an extremely commodious harbour, and which is sheltered from the weather by a little island or mole, so placed as that only one ship at a time can pass between it and the fort. On the left of the town the river Urumea passes close under the walls, and joins the sea; and at the distance of perhaps a mile and a half, or two miles, several high hills enclose the place on every side, between which and the ramparts the country is flat, and the soil sandy and unfruitful.

The reader has not, I daresay, forgotten that, after the battle of Vittoria, Sir Thomas Graham, at the head of the fifth division of the British army, achieved a succession of petty victories over detached bodies of the enemy, and finally sat down before St Sebastian. On the 17th of July, the convent of St Bartholome, which is built upon one of the heights just alluded to, and which the French had fortified with great diligence and care, was taken; and, on the same night, ground for the trenches was broken. As the troops worked for their lives, blue-lights being thrown out from the city, and a smart fire kept up upon them, they succeeded in establishing for themselves pretty safe cover before morning; and the sandy soil of the place being favourable to such operations, the first parallel was drawn within a moderate space of time. The trenches, indeed, were completed, and breaching-batteries erected, by the 21st, on the morning of which day upwards of forty pieces of ordnance opened their fire upon the place; and so incessant and so effectual was their practice, that on the evening of the 24th a breach was effected.

The breach appearing to be practicable, and Sir Thomas being aware that the advance of the army was delayed only till this important place should fall, he determined to lose no time in bringing matters to the issue of a storm; and orders were accordingly given that the troops should form in the trenches after dark, and be ready to commence the assault as soon as the state of the tide would permit the river to be forded. This occurred about two o'clock in the morning of the 25th, when the storming-party advanced with great gallantry to the attack. But whether it was that the breach was not sufficiently assailable, or that some panic seized the leading divisions, the attack failed. A sudden cry of "Retreat, retreat!" arose just as the first company had gained the summit of the rampart. It spread with extraordinary rapidity through the column; and some houses which were close to the town wall taking fire, all became confusion and dismay. Those who were already on the breach turned round and rushed against their comrades behind them; of these many missed their footing, and fell; and the enemy keeping up a tremendous fire of grape, musketry, and grenades all the while, the whole column lost its order and tractability. A retreat, or rather a flight, began in real earnest; and happy was he who first made his way once more across the Urumea, and found himself sheltered from destruction in the trenches. The loss in this affair amounted, on our part, to several hundred men, of whom many, who had been only wounded, and had fallen within high-water mark, were carried off by the returning tide, and drowned.

From the period of this failure till some days after our arrival in the country, no farther attempts were made upon St Sebastian; and the besieged were consequently enabled to repair, in a great degree, the devastation which had been committed upon their fortifications. The causes of this inactivity on the part of the besiegers were, first, the want of ammunition, of which a supply had been long expected from England, but which adverse winds had detained; and, secondly, sundry demonstrations, on the part of the French army, as if with a view to resume offensive operations, and raise the siege. Whilst these were in progress, it was deemed unwise to land any fresh stores; indeed, most of those already in position were removed; and hence, when we passed under the walls of the fort, the tri-coloured flag floated proudly from the battlements.