‘Leave that to me,’ said Geordie.
A short time after (it was dusk when he was posted) he heard some one coming up the road very cautiously, as if wishing to avoid observation. At last, when about to turn the road, the individual, who was on horseback, clapped spurs to his horse, apparently for the purpose of passing him before he could challenge. There was no time to lose, and many a poor fellow might have been so confused at being taken unawares, that he would have neglected to challenge before the person was on him. Not so with Geordie. The moment he saw him quicken his pace, he challenged. The challenge was either not heard or purposely unheeded. Another challenge was given; the general continued his gallop without answering. ‘You’ll no tak me in that way, my gentleman,’ said Geordie; and as he gave the third and last challenge, he came to the present, and made a bullet whiz past the general’s ear. The horse was drawn in immediately.
‘What! do you mean to shoot your general, you rascal?’
‘I dinna ken wha folk are in the dark; but whether you’re a general or no, my orders are to fire at ony body that attempts to pass me without answering when I challenge. It’s the general’s orders; and I ken what I would get if I didna obey them.’
‘Well, sir, I am your general; and I wish to pass into the town.’
‘I’m no sure about ye—ye may be some French spy for ony thing I ken; and ye maun just stay whar ye are till the sergeant o’ the picquet comes; he’ll no be lang now, for the report o’ my piece would alarm them.’
At that moment the picquet arrived, and the general was allowed to proceed; but from that time, he did not trouble the outpost sentries so much.
Some time before we left these quarters to advance, an attack was made by the French, under General Junot, on our advanced posts; and we were ordered under arms to defend our position, in the event of them pushing forward. During that day, and the succeeding night, the baggage of the troops in front, along with the inhabitants of the surrounding country, filled the road leading through our village. It was a melancholy sight to see the poor natives, carrying their children, and any little thing which they were able to bring with them, moving along the road, after having left their homes and property—travelling they knew not whither, desolate and friendless. In a few days they might be reduced to beg, or perhaps (what was not uncommon in Portugal) die of hunger. Alas! thought I, what misery war causes! I hope I will never see my own country in such a state.
The French were beaten back, and our troops resumed their former station; but few of the inhabitants returned. Not long after this, we were reviewed, along with part of the first division, by Lord Wellington. From the place where we were assembled, we could see Santarem, General Massena’s head-quarters. Next day (the sixth of March) the whole army was ordered to advance, as the French had retreated in three divisions, by separate routes during the night.
This opened the campaign of 1811. From Alcoentre we marched to Rio Mayor (our former quarters when we were on our way to join the army;) but it was sadly altered,—the inhabitants had mostly all left it; the houses were in ruins; and it wore a desolate appearance. Next day we crossed to Alcaneyde. From thence we proceeded to Porto de Mos.