Orders having been given for the brigade to march, and possess itself of the forts and Pass of Almaraz, on the Tagus, we moved off, on the 16th, to accomplish the object of the expedition. Our route was long and wearisome, extending throughout the following night. By daybreak, on the morning of the 17th, we found ourselves on the declivity of a range of steep and craggy mountains, the broken and precipitous sides of which we had been ascending for some hours before, by a narrow pathway among the rocks, all trace of its windings being almost lost amidst the wilderness of heath and broom. The night was bleak and chilling, while we were thus endeavouring to explore the passage, that lay in the direction of the river, upon the banks of which the forts were situated. In consequence of the main road being commanded by the castle of Miravete, our further progress in that line was arrested, and we proceeded, by a similar path to that which we had already travelled, into a still more wild and desolate region. With much toil and labour, we pursued our dark and lonesome way, in some parts hardly better than a sheepwalk, which did not seem to have ever been trodden by human footsteps.
The Sierra upon which we had the felicity of being perched had somewhat of an Alpine character—huge grey rocks and broken and desert hills forming throughout a dreary and inhospitable prospect. The silence of the barren waste was interrupted only by the footsteps of our troops, and the moaning sound of the wind, mingled with the screaming of sundry birds of prey, which seemed to reproach their intruders for breaking in upon their haunts, where for ages their race had lived secure from the ruthless violence of man. On this mountain ridge we remained during the 17th, getting all in readiness for the delicate piece of work which was cut out for us. Pickets and guards were thrown out upon the most commanding points, secured by whose vigilance we made all the requisite arrangements for the intended assault.
We moved off the alarm-post about nightfall on the 18th, and continued our way across the mountain ridge in a direction unmarked by any distinguishable track. It was at first intended to surprise the forts before daylight. The difficult nature of the road rendered it, however, impossible to effect this object, and we had, in consequence, no alternative but to march boldly on. Having gained the open country, we were halted under cover of some rising ground, sloping downwards to the fort. Here we waited for the rear of the column to move up, as well as for the signal to advance; and having had some breathing time, we were soon in readiness for the word. The morning was clear and pleasant, and it continued fine throughout the day.
The 50th regiment, commanded by Colonel Charles Stewart, flanked by five companies of the 71st, was ordered to storm Fort Napoleon; while the 92nd, with the remainder of the 71st, were to force the Tete du pont, and the works on the opposite banks of the river. The anxious moment at length arrived, when Lord Hill riding up to the 50th, with a coolness worthy of that distinguished man, gave orders for the assault. The word to advance was instantly hailed by the troops, while at the same time they made a rapid and steady movement to the front, and pressed onward towards the summit of the hill. The moment our caps appeared we were saluted with a volley of round shot, canister and small arms; by way of sample, or as an earnest of the reception we might expect. Nothing daunted, however, by this very rough treatment, our little columns still rushed on, though under such a galling shower, and the whole of the glacis was speedily covered by our men. The assault was directed on three faces of the battery; the right wing of the 50th being led on by Colonel Stewart, and the left by Major Harrison, the remaining column was commanded by Major Cother, of the 71st. The moment was critical in the extreme, for at least thirteen pieces of cannon were playing away on us, while driving along in double quick time, the grape shot rattling among our bayonets, dealt out death and destruction through our already diminished ranks, the soldiers falling in numbers right and left. "Onward! forward to the ditch!" was now called out, as the storming party rapidly advanced, and with desperate resolution all hurried, under an incessant raking fire, to the foot of the ramparts.
Having attained the ground work of the ditch, and established a firm lodgment therein, it soon became pretty clear, that, however strong our fire-eating habits might be, we should find this spot by far too warm a berth for any very protracted residence, and we therefore commenced the most prompt and vigorous measures to escalade the walls; but, the ladders being unfortunately rather short, our efforts were for some time fruitless. By this mischance considerable havoc was occasioned; for while we were endeavouring to raise the ladders, the French grenadiers, whose great bearskin caps and whiskered faces ornamented the breastwork overhead, hurled down upon us with ruthless vengeance an infinite variety of missiles. Anxious to dislodge such ugly customers, they were in no wise particular as to what they made use of for the purpose; rolling down fragments of rock, stones of huge dimensions, round shot, glass bottles, and many other articles in the small way, so that had our pates been composed of adamantine stuff they could scarcely have resisted an avalanche so direful. In this situation, numbers of the men were killed or wounded, and when some of the most daring attempted to climb, they were either dispatched or tumbled over before they reached the summit.
The highest angle of the wall, on the northeast side, was furiously attacked by the 4th battalion company, whose leader, Captain Robert [Chandler],[21] with a noble spirit, was first to ascend at this point. Waving his sword as he stood on the topmost rail of the ladder, he called on his men to push forward closely; and he then jumped on the ledge of the parapet; but while cheering on his gallant followers he was blown to atoms, his shattered remains lying extended on the slope of the rampart when the troops got in.
Whilst the left wing was thus contending against superior numbers, and knocking their heads literally upon stone walls, the grenadiers made forcible entrance on the right of the fort; carrying all before them. The Frenchmen were soon panic-struck, and by a general and simultaneous rush made for the opposite sally port; while the troops on the other flank, taking part in the performance, were completely routed and fled across the drawbridge, to the tune of Sauve qui peut.
Prisoners to the amount of two hundred fell into our hands, and these fierce veterans, who had grinned so horribly upon us with their black and whiskered jaws, while they entertained us in the ditch, were now downcast and woebegone, on finding this unlooked-for termination to the drama.
Clarimont, their gallant chief, the Governor of the Fort, refused to surrender to our men, and being resolved to sell his life as dearly as he could, he placed his back against the round tower in the centre of the work, where with his sabre, he chopped away right and left, cutting down any rash desperado who ventured to approach his weapon. At length Sergeant Checker, of the 50th Lt. Company, a fine soldier, exasperated by the stubborn obstinacy of the Frenchman, put an end to his existence with his halbert; giving to the valiant governor the fate which, in his despair, he so resolutely courted. The brave Clairmont was buried at Merida, with military honours, his remains being attended by the whole garrison, and the officers in command there.[22]
The Tete du pont, in like manner, fell before the bayonets of the 71st and 92nd. The Gordon Highlanders, being rather fond of introducing the cold steel upon all occasions, made free to give their opponents a specimen of their abilities in that line, and so completely did they settle the business, that we were scarcely lodged in Fort Napoleon, when they were at the water side in full possession of their defences.