About this time a severe gale came on, by which a great number of vessels were stranded on the French side of the bay; most of them were abandoned by their crews, who got safe over to Cadiz; but one transport containing the flank companies and staff of a battalion of the fourth regiment, ran ashore near Port St Mary’s, and they were all taken prisoners. They had their colours with them, and I heard afterwards that they had put them under the coppers and burned them, rather than let them fall into the hands of the enemy. Many of these vessels were richly laden; and as they were sure ultimately to fall into the hands of the enemy, being also considered fair prizes when they ran ashore on an enemy’s coast, we procured a couple of boats, and succeeded in securing part of the cargo of those nearest us, which was principally silk, with some pipes of wine and salt provision.
The stranded vessels, that lay along the shore, were often visited by straggling parties of the French, who used to carry off heavy burdens of the cargo. This stimulated some of our men to follow their example; but there was great risk in the adventure. They could only go at night, and run all hazard of their absence being discovered; that, however, might be averted by the sergeants, who of course shared in the booty; but the marsh which they had to cross was very dangerous, the road uncertain, and they might have been taken by the enemy’s picquets; but notwithstanding these obstacles, there were many who, either out of a spirit of adventure, or a love of gain, despised them all, and were well repaid for their trouble by the valuable articles which they found.
Our party often fell in with the French stragglers, who were there on the same errand; but they were quite friendly, and when any wine or spirits were got in the vessels, they used to sit down and drink together, as sociably as if they had been comrades for years. What every man got was his own, and there was seldom any dissension.
One night I happened to be of the party. We had made our burdens, parted with our French friends, and left the vessels on our way to the fort. The party of the French had left it also. We had not proceeded far, when we missed one of our comrades; and fearing that some accident had befallen him, we returned, and near the vessel saw him struggling with some one. We hastened up to him; but before we reached the spot, the person with whom he was engaged fell to the ground with a groan. At that moment, we saw our comrade stoop, and tear something from him. ‘What is the matter?’ said one of our party. ‘Come away,’ said he, ‘and I’ll tell you as we go along;’ and he passed us on his way to the fort.
We were anxious to see who his antagonist was; and on raising him up, we found that he was one of the French party, who had been with us in the vessel. He had been stabbed in the left side with a Spanish knife, which still remained in the wound. One of the party withdrew it. The blood flowed out of the wound with great force. The poor Frenchman gave a deep groan—a convulsive quiver—and expired.
‘This is a horrid cold-blooded murder,’ said I. ‘Where is S——?’ At this moment we heard the noise of footsteps approaching, and thinking it might be the comrades of the Frenchman who had been barbarously assassinated, we left the place precipitately, our minds filled with horror at the savage deed.
On our way to the fort we overtook S——; but none of us spoke to him. He, however, strove to extenuate his conduct, by saying that he observed the Frenchman find a purse in a chest that he had broken open, and seeing him linger behind his party for the purpose of secreting it about his person, he went up to him, and asked a share of it. The man refusing this, a scuffle ensued, and he stabbed him in his own defence, the Frenchman having attempted to stab him. We knew this to be false; for the Frenchman had no weapon in his hand, or near him; and we had no doubt, from what we knew of S——’s character, that he had perpetrated the murder for the sake of the money, which was gold doubloons. He offered to share it with us; but not one of us would touch it; and from that time forward, he was shunned and detested by all who knew of the murder. He never prospered after. I even thought that his countenance acquired a demon-like expression, that rendered it repulsive; and we had not been long in Portugal, when he went to the rear and died in great misery. After that we never returned to the vessels.
The Spaniards had a number of hulks moored in the bay which Lord Nelson made for them, on board of which they kept their French prisoners, who, we understood, were very ill used, nearly starved, and huddled together in such a way that disease was the consequence. Many of them died daily. They were kept until sunset, and then thrown over board, and allowed to float about in the bay. Every tide threw some of them ashore, and the beach was continually studded here and there with them. When our men discovered any of them, they scraped a hole in the sand, and buried them; but they were totally unheeded by the Spaniards unless when they practised some barbarity on them—such as dashing large stones on their heads, or cutting and mutilating them in such a way that the very soul would sicken at the idea.
I was one night on picquet, and along with the sergeant reconnoitering the ground in front of the fort, as the French picquets were in the habit of coming close down on us when it was dark. We saw something white moving amongst the weeds near the shore, to the left of the battery; and we went down in that direction to see what it was; but in an instant we lost sight of it. When we came to the place where we first saw it, we found the body of a man extended on the ground. This was not an uncommon appearance; but as we had seen something moving when we were first attracted to the spot, I was induced to feel the body, to ascertain whether it was dead, and to my surprise, I found him warm, and assisted by the sergeant raised him up. It struck us that he had only fainted, and we rubbed him for some time with our hands. He at last began to recover, and his first action, when he came to himself, was to fall down on his knees at our feet, and cry ‘Misericordia.’[5] We did not understand what he said; but we asked him, in English, how he had come there. Whenever he heard us speak, he sprung to his feet, and seizing our hands, he cried ‘Vous etes Anglois—Grâce à bon Dieu!’[6]
We threw a great-coat over him, and took him into the fort, where, placing him before a fire, and giving him some bread and wine, the poor fellow soon recovered. When it was discovered that he had no clothes on, one man took off his shirt and put it on him, another gave him a pair of trousers, and he was soon comfortably clothed. He poured out his thanks in French, but he saw we did not understand the language. He tried the Spanish with like success. He attempted a mixture of both with as little effect; but when he pressed his hand on his heart, and the big drop gathered in his eye, he found by the sympathising tear which it excited, that no words were necessary to express the universal language of gratitude.