The right flank of Joseph's army extended northward from Vittoria, across the stream of the Zadorra, and rested on the hills above the villages of Gamarra Mayor and Abechuco, covered there by strong redoubts. Between the right and centre was a thick cork wood, into which were thrown many corps of infantry to keep open the line of communication. The right centre rested on a height which commanded the vale of the Zadorra, and which was strengthened by nearly one hundred pieces of artillery. Their left and centre occupied the bold ridges above the village of Subijana de Alava, with a corps de reserve posted at Gomecha, and a brigade thrown forward on the lofty and rocky mountains of Puebla to protect their centre, which might have been outflanked by the main road where it crosses the Zadorra. Joseph Buonaparte in person commanded the whole, having Marshal Jourdan acting under him as lieutenant-general. The armies were pretty well matched, each mustering from 70,000 to 75,000 men, the French having the advantage in occupying a strong position, which every means had been taken to strengthen.
Each regiment of Hill's division, on its debouching from the Vittoria road, formed line from close column, and advanced in that order towards the enemy. To the latter the view of the allied army at that hour must have presented a grand and imposing spectacle; so many dense masses moving successively into the plain, and deploying into line by companies obliquely, with all the steadiness and regularity of a review; the bright barrels and bayonets of upwards of 70,000 musquets shining in the rays of the morning sun; the silken standards of many colours,—red, buff, white, blue, and yellow, waving over them; the bright scarlet uniforms, relieved by the varied green of the landscape; and then the many warlike sounds increased the effect of the scene. The neighing of cavalry horses, the roll of tumbrils and gun-carriages, the distant yet distinct word of command,—the mingling music of many bands, the trumpets of the horse, the bugles of the riflemen, and the hoarse wailing war-pipe of the Highland regiments, ever and anon swelled upon the breeze, pealing among the heights of Puebla, and dying away among the windings in the vale of Zadorra.
The prospect before them must have been one of no ordinary interest to the martial legions of France. At the moment that the distant bells of the convent of Santa Clara de Alava struck a quarter to ten, the memorable battle of Vittoria began.
"There go the Spaniards,—the soldiers of old Murillo!" exclaimed Seaton, as a loud and continued discharge of musquetry rang among the ridges of Puebla. The sound caused every heart to bound, for the day was big with the fate of many!
"Murillo and the Condé d'Amarante have attacked the left of the French," said Cameron, watching the operations through his telescope; "but they will be compelled to retire unless succoured, and that promptly, too! The heights are becoming covered with smoke—— By heavens! they are giving way."
At that moment an aide-de-camp dashed up to the brigade, with Sir Rowland's order for the 71st regiment to advance, and sustain the attack on the heights, in concert with the light companies of the division, while the Highlanders and 50th regiment were to support them in turn.
"Now then, Stuart!" said Seaton, giving Ronald an unceremonious slap on the shoulder, "see if another gold cross is to be won upon Puebla. We shall be under fire in five minutes,—forward, light bobs! Forward double-quick!" Away they went in high spirits to the assistance of old Murillo, whose troops were already wavering, under the steady fire of the French. The roar of cannon and musquetry had now become general along the lines, and was absolutely astounding. War on a great scale is a grand, yet a terrible thing. The whole valley of the Zadorra,—the fortified heights of Gomecha on the enemy's right, those of Puebla on their left, the dark woodlands between, the corn-fields, the hedges, and all the grassy plain below, were enveloped in smoke, streaked with continual flashes of fire. In the villages every hut had become a fortress, loop-holed and barricaded, every wall of cabbage-garden and vineyard a breastwork, for possession of which armed men contested desperately, hand to hand, and point to point.
The Honourable Colonel Cadogan commanded the 71st, and other companies, which moved up the heights to the assistance of the Spaniards on the extreme of the British right. Forming line on the hillside, they advanced with a determination and impetuosity truly admirable towards the enemy, whose close and deadly fire was thinning their numbers rapidly.
"Now, soldiers! upon them like fury! Forward, charge!" cried Cadogan, dashing spurs into his horse's sides. A loud hurrah was the reply, and simultaneously they pushed forward with the bayonet, and rushing like a torrent through clouds of smoke and sweeping volleys of shot, fell headlong upon the enemy, and all was for a time hewing with the sword and butt, or stabbing with bayonet and pike. A severe and bloody struggle ensued, but the French were driven tumultuously from the heights, after suffering immense loss, and having their commanding officer captured.
Ronald, who was then engaged in a charge for the first time, became bewildered,—almost stunned with the whirl, the din, and the wild uproar around him. The excitement of the soldiers had been raised to the utmost pitch, and they became, as it were, intoxicated with the danger, smoke, noise, blood, and death which surrounded them.