Gibraltar

by Henry M. Field

From care and trouble free.'

He ran to me with eagerness, and presenting his bottle, cried: 'D——n me if I don't like fighting, with plenty of good liquor for carrying away. 'Why, Jack,' says I, 'what have you been about?' 'Faith,' says he, 'I scarce know myself. I have been constantly, on foot and watch, half-starved and without money, facing a parcel of pitiful Spaniards. I have been fighting, wheeling, marching, counter-marching, sometimes with a firelock, sometimes with a handspike, and now with my bottle.'

"A shell that instant burst, a piece of which knocked the bottle out of his hand. 'Jack,' says I, 'are you not thankful to God for your preservation?' 'How do you mean?' says he; 'fine talking of God with a soldier whose trade and occupation is cutting throats. Divinity and slaughter sound very well together; they jingle like a cracked bell in the hands of a noisy crier. My religion is a firelock, open touch-hole, good flint, well-rammed charge, and seventy rounds: this is military creed. Come, comrade, drink!'"

Such license as this would soon demoralize the best troops in the world. Had the Spaniards known the degree to which it existed at that moment, and been able to effect an entrance into the fortress, Gibraltar might have been lost.

The insubordination was suppressed only by the most strenuous efforts of the Governor and the vigorous enforcement of discipline. An order was issued that any soldier caught marauding should be "executed immediately," and this summary judgment was put in force in several cases, where men were not only executed without a moment's delay, but on the very spot where the crime was committed. This timely severity, with the personal influence of the Governor, at length brought the soldiers to their senses, and order was restored. Perhaps they were brought back to duty in part by the continued roar of that terrific bombardment, for in a true soldier nothing rouses the martial spirit like the sound of the enemy's guns. Danger and duty go together: and many of those who had been carried away by this temporary frenzy, when they "came to themselves," were among the bravest who fought in the conflicts that were yet to come.

It was now a struggle of endurance—firing and counter-firing month after month, with exciting incidents now and then to relieve the monotony of the siege. Of these episodes the most notable was the sortie executed on the night of November 26, 1781. The siege had lasted more than two years, and the Spaniards, boastful and confident as they are apt to be, by this time appreciated the enormous difficulty of attacking the Rock of Gibraltar. To do them justice, instead of being daunted by the greatness of the task, their military ardor rose with the vastness of the undertaking, and they had been engaged for months in rearing a stupendous parallel across the Neutral Ground, to be mounted with the heaviest battering artillery. The Governor had kept his eye upon the progress of the work, and as he saw its lines spreading out wider and wider, and rising higher and higher, he could not but feel anxiety for the moment when these batteries should open, and rain shot and shell upon the devoted garrison. The way in which he met the new danger showed that he had the promptness in action of a great commander.

From the beginning of the siege he had observed the utmost economy in the use of his resources. He was sparing of his ammunition, and sometimes reproached his officers with great severity for wasting it in unimportant attacks. He saved his powder as he saved his men. Indeed he was sparing of everything except himself. Yet "he never relaxed from his discipline by the appearance of security, nor hazarded the lives of his garrison by wild experiments. Collected within himself, he in no instance destroyed, by premature attacks, the labors which would cost the enemy time, patience, and expense to complete; he deliberately observed their approaches, and seized on the proper moment in which to make his attack with success." For months he had been waiting and watching: the time for action had now come.

During the siege there had been frequent desertions on both sides. Now and then soldiers of the garrison, wearied with the interminable siege (and thinking it better to take the chances of instant death than to be shut up in a fortress-prison and perish by inches), let themselves down by ropes over the face of the Rock. Some escaped to the enemy, and some were dashed on the rocks below. On the other side there were among the Spanish soldiers a good many Walloons from Belgium, who had no interest in the contest, and were as ready to fight on one side as the other. Occasionally one of these would stray out of the camp, as if without intention, and when he had got at a distance which he thought gave him a chance of escape, would take to his heels and run for the gates of the fortress. If discovered, he was immediately fired at, and a mounted guard started in pursuit, and if overtaken, he was brought back, and the next day his body, hanging from the scaffold, in full sight of the Rock, served as a ghastly warning alike to the besiegers and the besieged.

But, in spite of all, desertions went on. One day a couple of deserters were brought to the Governor, one of whom proved to be uncommonly intelligent, and gave important information. "Old Eliott" took him up to a point of the Rock from which they could look down into the camp of the besiegers, and questioned him minutely as to its condition and the intentions of the enemy. He said that the parallel was nearly completed; and that as soon as all was ready the Spaniards would make a grand assault; but that meanwhile the works, enormous as they were, were not guarded by a large force, the besiegers not dreaming that the batteries prepared for attack could be themselves attacked! The Governor instantly perceived the value of this information, but kept it to himself, and had the deserter closely confined lest he should incautiously reveal to others what he had told to him. Keeping his own counsel, he made his preparations, which he did not disclose even to his lieutenants until the moment for action. It was in the evening when he called them together, and announced his intention to make an attack on the works of the besiegers that very night, and at midnight about two thousand men were in arms on the "Red Sands," now the Alameda, to carry the daring purpose into execution. Their orders were of the strictest kind: "Each man to have thirty-six rounds of ammunition, with a good flint in his piece and another in his pocket. No drums to go out, excepting two with each of the regiments. No volunteers will be allowed." The brave old commander wanted no amateurs on such an occasion. "No person to advance before the front, unless ordered by the officer commanding the column: and the most profound silence to be observed." As it took two or three hours to form the columns, and acquaint all with the special duty to be undertaken, and the necessity for the strictest obedience, it was nearly three o'clock when they began to move. The moon was just setting across the bay, and soon all was dark and still, as the men advanced with quick but cautious steps through the silent streets. The commander had picked his men for the daring attempt. Knowing how powerful are the traditions of bravery, he had chosen two regiments that had fought side by side at the battle of Minden, twenty-two years before. The officers to lead them he had chosen with equal care, and yet, when it came to the moment of action, the old soldier felt such a fire in his bones that he could not resist the impulse to keep them company. As they emerged from the gates they had still three-quarters of a mile across the plain to reach the enemy's works. With all the precautions to secure silence, the tramp of two thousand men, however muffled, could not but reach the ears of the Spanish sentinels, and a few rapid shots told that they were discovered. But the alarm was given too late. It only quickened the advance of the column, which, as it reached the works, rushed over the parapet, bayoneting the men, such as did not flee, panic-stricken by the sudden attack, and spiking the guns. As the soldiers had come prepared with faggots for the purpose, they immediately set the works on fire. But even at this moment of terror there was one who thought of mercy as well as of victory. Before the flames had spread the Governor, "anxious that none of the wounded should by any accident perish in the burning batteries, went into the trench himself and found among the bodies of the slain a wounded officer, whom by his uniform he knew to be a captain of the Spanish artillery, to whom he spoke with all kindness, and promising him every assistance, ordered him to be removed, as the fire was now rapidly spreading to the spot where he lay. But the Spaniard, raising himself with difficulty, feebly exclaimed, "No, sir, no, leave me and let me perish amid the ruins of my post." In a few minutes he expired. It was afterward found that he had commanded the guard of the San Carlos battery, and that when his men threw down their arms and fled, he rushed forward into the attacking column, exclaiming, "At least one Spaniard shall die honorably," and fell where he was found, at the foot of his post."[10]

It was now too late to talk of mercy. In an hour the flames had spread into a conflagration that could not be subdued. As it rose into the air, it lighted up the Rock above and the plain below. Leaving the elements to complete the work of destruction, the assailants made their retreat, only to hear, as they re-entered the gates, the explosion of the magazines. So vast was the ruin wrought that the camp was like a city on fire, and continued to burn for four days, without an effort on the part of the Spaniards (who seemed to be stunned and bewildered by the sudden attack) to subdue the flames. Thus was destroyed at a single stroke what it had cost months of labor and millions of money to construct.