The subaltern

by G. R. Gleig

My description of Bayonne, and the scenery near it, applies thus far only to the city, and to the tract of country situated on the southern or Spanish side of the Adour. The citadel, being built upon a hill, or rather upon the crest of a range of heights which rise gradually from the sea, and extend upwards in a sort of inclined plane for about eight miles, differs entirely from the preceding sketch, both in its style of fortification and in the nature of the view which it presents to the gaze of a traveller. Like all hill-forts, its works are constructed rather as the natural inequalities of the ground permit than after any scientific plan or model. One of its fronts—that which faces the village of St Esprit and the mouth of the river—presents, indeed, the regular octangular appearance; but in other directions the abrupt and uneven course of the rock has compelled the engineer to draw his wall around without any respect to form or figure. Yet it is a place of prodigious strength—the more assailable of its faces being that on which the shape of the ground has permitted the engineer to bestow the largest share of his attention.

The view from the ramparts of the citadel is extremely pleasing. Vast woods of pine are seen in the distance; whilst nearer, the face of the country is beautifully diversified by the intermingling of corn-fields, meadows, groves of magnificent cork-trees, vineyards, cottages, and several chateaux. Close beneath the walls, moreover, lies the romantic village of St Esprit, with its neat church and churchyard, sloping along the side of a ravine, and having all its cottages surrounded by pretty gardens, well stocked with fruit-trees and shrubs. This village was commanded, not only by the guns from the citadel, but by a redoubt which General Thouvenot, the French governor, had caused to be erected on a sort of table-land near it, and which, though no addition to the beauty of the landscape, added greatly to the general strength of the castle by occupying the only level spot across which the besiegers might hope to push a sap with any success or facility.

Though Bayonne was already, to all intents and purposes, invested—that is to say, though the garrison and inhabitants were fairly cut off from holding open intercourse with other parts of the country—nothing of the restraint of a siege, in the proper acceptation of the term, had as yet been imposed on either class. The besiegers had, indeed, drawn an extended line around the works; but the French pickets were still posted at the distance of three, four, and some of them five miles from the glacis; whilst their patrols continually broke the chain of connection, and made excursions as far as the camp of Marshal Soult at Orthes. This was the case at least up to the evening of the 24th. There being no direct or safe communication between the two banks of the Adour below the town, Sir John Hope could not venture to tighten the cord, or to convert the investment into a strict blockade. For as yet all reinforcements to the little corps which, under the command of General Stopford, had passed on the 23d, were floated across by means of rafts—the men sitting with their guns upon the beams of wood, and leading the horses, which swam after them. Yet, even in this rude way, so large a force contrived to establish itself among the sand-hills by the evening of the 24th, that all apprehension of a renewed attack from the enemy was laid aside. Nevertheless the artificers were anxiously pressed to render the bridge trustworthy with as little delay as possible; and they strenuously exerted themselves to meet the wishes of the general.

Meanwhile, about fourteen or twenty thousand men of the Spanish army took post along those faces of the town and citadel which looked towards Helletre and the Joyeuse. The left of this semicircular line, resting upon the heights where, during the late affair, I stood in safety to watch the progress of the skirmishers on both sides of me, swept round, through the abandoned intrenchments, to the brink of the river. Here, the stream being narrow, a pontoon-bridge was formed, and the line recommencing on the opposite bank, wound on till it touched a corps of Portuguese at the back of the citadel. But as yet the chain was continued from that point only by occasional patrolling parties; and through this opening the enemy daily sent out his foragers and brought in supplies. Such a state of things could not be permitted long to last. It was essential to the prosecution of Lord Wellington's future operations that the gap should be filled up previous to the renewal of hostilities between his army and that of Soult; nor was much time wasted in making preparations for driving the garrison within the walls. Working parties laboured hard, not only during the day, but during the whole night of the 24th; and at dawn on the 25th it was reported that infantry might cross the floating bridge with safety. This was the signal for action; and hence the 25th proved to be, at least to part of the army, a day of hostile employment.

CHAPTER XXII.

A direct communication between the opposite banks of the river being thus established, the remaining battalions of the Guards, the chief part of the King's German Legion, together with a proportionate force of cavalry and artillery, marched at daybreak on the 25th to join their comrades among the sand-hills. The whole of the besieging army being at the same time put in motion, the gap which prior to this date had existed in the line of investment was filled up. Little or no fighting took place on that occasion. The enemy, perceiving our design, offered no serious resistance, but evacuating the village of Boucaut, after having exchanged a few shots with our skirmishers, established their pickets about half a mile in its rear. As yet, therefore, a good deal more of open space was granted to them than they could long hope to enjoy; but all opportunity of corresponding with Marshal Soult, as well as of adding to the stock of grain and provisions already in their magazines, was cut off.

The running and irregular fire which had been maintained throughout the morning gradually died away, and ceased altogether about noon. From that hour till after nightfall everything continued quiet. A feverish excitement, necessarily consequent even upon a trifling skirmish, prevailed indeed amongst us; nor did we venture to take off our accoutrements, or return to our usual employments, during the remainder of the day. But we might have done so, had we felt disposed, with perfect safety; because the enemy were too well satisfied with being permitted to retain what they still held of territory beyond the glacis to endanger its loss by a useless attempt to regain what had been wrested from them. Still we were anxious; and the anxiety which pervaded us all the day ceased not to operate at night.

The garrison of Bayonne, we were well aware, was at once numerically powerful and composed of the best troops in the French army. From all that we could learn, Soult had by no means calculated upon the plan of operations adopted by Lord Wellington. Concluding that the Marquess would halt after the passage of the Adour, and invest that important place with the whole of his forces, he had thrown into it fifteen thousand picked men, assigning the command to General Thouvenot—an officer who, by his successful defence of Burgos on a former occasion, appeared worthy of so delicate a trust on the present. Lord Wellington, however, knew too well how much depended in war on celerity of movement to waste his time under the walls of Bayonne. He therefore left Sir John Hope to mask the place with two British divisions, and taking the remainder with himself, hung upon the rear of the retreating enemy. These two divisions, which composed his left wing, were indeed supported by a considerable force of Spaniards. But not even now could much reliance be placed on Spanish troops; though it is just to add, that they were much upon the alert at the outposts, and patient under privations and hardships. The task assigned to Sir John Hope was not therefore an easy one. With some thirty thousand men of all arms, of whom only one-half might be fully trusted, he drew his lines of circumvallation round a well-fortified town, the enceinte of which could not measure less than four English miles, and towards which he did not as yet venture to push his pickets nearer than one mile, or perhaps more, from the glacis.

It was felt by him, and indeed by all, that vigilance could not under the circumstances be too keen or too constant. The besieged, moving upon an interior line, had it in his power to throw at any moment a superior force upon the besiegers; hence, especially for the first few days and nights, officers and men alike kept themselves, so to speak, constantly on the stretch of expectation. On the 25th, for example, as all seemed to be quiet in front, we lay down at the usual hour and slept. Our camp was pitched under the lee of a sand-hill; and just over its brow, and at the base beyond, our pickets were posted. It was still early, an hour or two from midnight, when a musket-shot in the direction of the pickets roused us. There was no time to consider, because the enemy, if a sortie was intended, would be upon us in a moment; so we sprang from our pallets, and each dressing hastily, and seizing his weapons, we ran to the place of muster. And now another and another shot broke the stillness of the night. The bugles began to sound, the baggage was hastily packed, the horses were saddled, and all the bustle and hurry attendant upon the preparations for battle took place. For myself, having seen that my men were in their ranks, I ran to the top of the hill, whence I saw the flashes of several muskets half-way between our sentinels and those of the enemy; but no sound of advancing columns met my ear, neither was the fire returned by our own soldiers. The perplexity occasioned by this state of affairs was not, however, of long continuance. The officer in command of the outposts sent in a messenger to say that no symptom of an attack was discernible, but that several deserters had come into his lines, at whom the French sentries were firing. This account was confirmed soon afterwards by the arrival of the deserters in the camp; and the troops accordingly laid aside their weapons and returned to their tents.

The alarm in that direction had hardly subsided, when another and not less serious one arose in a different quarter. A sentry who was posted by the bank of the river reported to his officer when visiting him that boats were moving and oars splashing in the water. Apprehensions were immediately excited for the safety of the bridge, against which we naturally concluded that some attempt was about to be made. To oppose it as far as possible, of whatever nature it might be, three field-pieces which were attached to our brigade limbered up, and galloped to the water's edge. These I accompanied; and certainly the splash of oars was very audible, though the darkness would not permit us to distinguish whence the sound proceeded. A few shots were, however, fired in the direction of the sound, just by way of hinting to the enemy that we were awake; and whether it was that the hint was not lost upon them, or that they never seriously entertained the idea of assailing the bridge, an immediate cessation of rowing was the consequence. Having watched, therefore, for half an hour, and neither hearing nor seeing anything indicative of danger, I left the gunners to themselves, and returning to my cloak and blanket, wrapt myself closely up, and slept soundly and securely till the morning.