CHAPTER XIV.
FRESH DISASTERS.
"Oh, plenteous England! comfort's dwelling-place
Blest be thy well-fed, glossy, John-Bull face!
Blest be the land of Aldermanic paunches,
Rich turtle-soup, and glorious ven'son haunches!
Inoculated by mad martial ardour,
Why did I ever quit thy well-stored larder?
Why, fired with scarlet-fever, in ill time,
Come here to fight and starve in this accursed clime?"
On this march the army was in arrears of pay, so Quentin's remaining moidores soon melted away, as he shared them, to the last vintin, fraternally with his friends and comrades; but long ere the army reached Lugo, he saw many a strange and startling episode of horror and suffering.
Moore's troops continued to make forced marches to prevent the foe from closing on their flanks, and now every day provisions grew scarcer.
The skies were lowering, and heavy clouds rested on the tops of the gloomy mountains; the rough, narrow, and wretched roads were knee-deep in drifted snow; half-famished and half-frozen, the soldiers became desperate, and, in defiance of Moore's orders, plundered whatever they could get to satisfy the cravings of nature.
From Astorga to Villa Franca (in the mountain district called the Bierzo—so lovely in summer), is a route of fully sixty English miles, through wild and savage mountain tracts and passes, where the horses failed, as their shoes were worn away; but though there were plenty of iron-works near Villa Franca, there was no time to re-shoe them, so every hour saw whole sections of our noble English horses shot down, lest they should fall into the hands of the pursuing enemy; and then the dismounted troopers had to trudge on foot, laden with all their useless trappings.
One of the 3rd Light Dragoons of the German Legion, whose horse had been shot according to the usage of war, was urged by Major Burgwesel to go on faster.
"Herr Major," said he, "the game is pretty well played out with me, and if you expect me to march quicker with all this load, you may as well shoot me as you have done my poor horse."
"Himmel und Erde, get on, fellow!" shouted the major, with an angry malediction.
On this, the exasperated dragoon placed a pistol to his mouth and blew out his brains, to the horror of the stern major.