At last we reached the town and got into houses; but the village was too small, and we were crowded in such a way that we had scarcely room to sit down. In the course of the day, however, arrangements were made; and some of the regiments sent to other villages, so that we were better accommodated.
During the time we were in the Peninsula, the troops suffered much from exposure to rain; and nothing renders a soldier so uncomfortable as having wet clothes about him; or, I believe, hurts his health more, when first exposed to it. I have often wondered that no means were taken to prevent this. Many of the officers had oil-cloth cloaks that completely covered them. Some such thing for the men would have been neither expensive nor heavy to carry, and would have been the means of saving many lives. Much more attention ought also to be paid to the quality of the shoes served out to the army, for they in general are of the very worst kind, and it was no uncommon thing for our store shoes to be in tatters before we had worn them a week.
After a stay of a few days here, we removed to Cadaciera in the same line of position, which extended from the Tagus to the sea. We had not long taken up our quarters in the village, where our whole brigade was, when a peasant entered it, driving a flock of sheep before him. In a moment, a race was made amongst them by some of the soldiers. Others, stimulated by their example, followed; and in a few minutes, officers and men were seen promiscuously scrambling for the mutton. Dennis joined in the throng, and had seized one of them, at the same moment that an officer of the Irish regiment in the brigade made a grasp at it. ‘Give me that sheep, sir,’ said the officer in an authoritative tone. ‘Arrah, be aisy, honey!’ said Dennis. ‘Kill a Hessian for yourself, if you plase.’[9] The officer relinquished his claim, and pursued another. The poor Portuguese shepherd stood like a statue, not knowing well what to do. At last, when he found himself relieved from all his charge, he went away, lamenting and muttering curses on the ‘ladrones Englese,’[10] to make his complaint to the general.
Soon after, a wine store was found out, and as plundering was the order of the day, the contents of it were soon lessened. This depredation was discovered by the men becoming intoxicated. The most severe investigation and search took place, and those with whom any of the stolen property was found were confined, tried by a court martial, and flogged; but they were not the most guilty who suffered.
While we remained in this position, we were obliged to be under arms two hours before daylight, and remain until clear day; and for a few days after, these two hours were pretty well occupied by flogging.
Terror seems to be the only engine of rule in the army; but I am fully persuaded in my own mind that if a more rational method were taken, the character of the soldier in quarters would be as exemplary as in the field.
I cannot adduce any reasonable excuse for this wanton breach of honesty; for we were regularly supplied with rations at the time; but I imagine that most of the men were led into it by the example set by others, without taking time to think about the impropriety of the action. The soldier could scarcely think that there was any harm in the deed which an officer joined in. This was rather rare, however; but many of them had no objection to participate in what was stolen, which to me appeared equally blameable.
When settled in a place for any time, the brigade assembled on Sundays for divine service. We were always in full marching order on these occasions; and not uncommonly had a field day after it. If a person were to judge from the hitching of knapsacks, and wry faces that were making, during this ceremony, he would have thought the soldiers would rather have dispensed with it; but I dare say, the anticipation of the drill that was to follow, prevented them from feeling much benefit from their devotions.
The first Sunday after the outrage already related, when the chaplain left his station, General Picton took his place.
This was the first time he had addressed us. I felt anxious to examine the features of a man who had been so much the public talk on account of his reputed cruelty at Trinidad. I could not deny that I felt a prejudice against him, and his countenance did not do it away; for it had a stern and gloomy expression, which, added to a very dark complexion, made it no way prepossessing; but when he opened his mouth, and began to pour forth a torrent of abuse on us for our conduct, and his dark eye flashed with indignation, as he recapitulated our errors, ‘hope withering fled, and mercy sighed farewell.’ He wound up the particular part of his speech addressed to us with, ‘You are a disgrace to your moral country, Scotland!’ That had more weight than all his speech. It sunk deep in our hearts. To separate a Scotsman from his country—to tell him he is unworthy of it—is next to taking away his life.