"Pardon, gracios senora; I meant not to say that he had fled, but only retreated," said Stuart. "But pray excuse me for a moment, as my presence is required below." He retired with the intention of ordering the body of the ignoble duke to be looked after, that it might not shock the eyes of his daughter; but the soldiers of Alfonso de Castronuno had before-hand disposed of it in a summary manner. In the intensity of their hatred, they tied a few cannon-shot to the body and tossed it into the chasm at the bottom of the cascade, where it could never be found again. The troops engaged in the capture of the château remained there for the ensuing day, during the whole of which firing was heard along the line of the Nive. With their usual success the allies crossed the river in triumph, and drove the troops of Soult before them pell-mell.
After his horse had been shot under him, Fassifern fought on foot, and four times led his victorious Highlanders on to the charge, sword in hand, and four times successively the stubborn masses of the enemy gave way before them. But the Celtic impetuosity was not to be resisted. Their black plumes were seen dashing on through bayonets, blood, and smoke, as they hurled the columns of the French before them as clouds are driven by the gale. Every regiment distinguished itself, and many charged desperately with the bayonet.
Even old Dugald Mhor, animated by the gallant example of his master, forgot his white hairs and failing powers, and distinguished himself by his prowess, and by the address with which he unhorsed and captured a French staff-officer.
But as this volume is drawing to a close, the historical part of it must be abridged as much as possible.
On the 27th of February, 1814, the allies gained the battle of Orthez, a victory which was succeeded by the passages of the Adour and Garonne, and by the most signal defeat of the Duke of Dalmatia before Toulouse, on Easter Sunday, the 10th of April.
Many of the British regiments suffered severely. The gallant 61st were reduced to scarcely fifty men, I believe; and the Gordon Highlanders were also roughly handled by the enemy. Stuart was wounded, and he lost many of the friends who survived the fatal battles of the Pyrenees, and among them was Evan Iverach, the faithful and affectionate young fellow who had become a soldier for his sake, abandoning his home, his sweetheart, and his aged father, and who had followed and served him with the love of a younger brother, the respect of a vassal, and the disinterested devotion of a Highlander.
The light companies had been thrown forward as skirmishers, and Stuart's fell into a sort of ambush formed by the enemy, who poured a destructive fire upon them. Lieutenant Evan Macpherson was killed, and a ball passed through the breast of Iverach, which laid him prostrate on the turf. He had previously been wounded in the left knee, but he had refused to retire from the field, protesting that he would fight while he had breath left in his body. Thrown into disorder by this unexpected volley, the company retired, and Ronald, as he staggered about confused by the concussion of a rifle-ball which grazed his left temple, heard the deep moans of pain which were uttered by poor Iverach. Regardless of the French fire he rushed forward, and raising him in his arms, bore him off in the face of the foe, who suspended their firing on witnessing the action, which gained Ronald the love and esteem of every soldier who beheld it. Two Highlanders soon relieved him of his burden, and carried Iverach, who was enduring great agony, to a place which was secure from the bullets of the enemy's riflemen. He was laid at the back of a stone wall, which formed the boundary of a meadow or field. The first thing he cried for was water; and Stuart, filling his canteen in a muddy ditch, the only place from which he could procure it, held it to the hot quivering lips of the sufferer, who, after he had drunk greedily, expressed much more concern to behold blood trickling from Ronald's temple, than for the probable issue of his own wound. Whenever he spoke, he was almost suffocated with his own blood; and ceasing the attempt, he leaned his head against the wall, and while tears trickled over his face, gazed with an eye of intense affection upon his master, who knelt down beside him, and as gently as a mother would have done, unclasped his accoutrements and opened his coat, that he might breathe more freely.
Stuart, the assistant-surgeon, who had been sitting opportunely on the other side of the wall, ready for action, with his case of instruments displayed around him like a pedlar's wares, whispered in Ronald's ear with most medical composure, "It is all over with him, poor fellow! Rejoin your company before Cameron misses you: Iverach will die in ten minutes."
"I cannot leave him," said Stuart, deeply distressed. "Oh, cannot you do something for him? I would yield all I possess on earth to save Evan's life!"
"He is bleeding more internally than outwardly, and were I to attempt to stop the discharge of blood from his mouth and breast, he would be instantly suffocated."