Dennis, round whom there used to be gathered a host of his comrades, listening to his witticisms or quaint remarks, and whose spirits I had never known to fail, was now crest-fallen, and moved along with the greatest difficulty. Nothing but death, however, could altogether keep down his buoyant spirits; for if we got a minute’s halt during the march, he made such ludicrous remarks on the wo-begone countenances of himself or his companions, that, although the effort was distressing, they were obliged to smile in spite of their misery.
This day we halted sooner than usual, and the weather being clearer, we got fires kindled,—still no rations; but we were encamped among oak trees, and greedily devoured the acorns which grew upon them, although nauseous in the extreme, the officer commanding the brigade and our colonel joining in the repast. In many respects the officers were in a worse situation than the men, not having anything to change themselves, as their baggage had been sent on before us.
If anything could have given us comfort in our miserable situation, it was having a kind and sympathising commanding officer: he made many of the weakly men throw away their knapsacks, and by every means in his power he endeavoured to infuse comfort and courage into their sinking hearts, braving every difficulty in common with the meanest individual, and even rejected the superior accommodation which his rank afforded, while he saw the men suffering. It was in a situation like this where true greatness of mind could be displayed; and there must have been something innately great and noble in the mind which could thus rise superior even to nature. In my opinion, a much greater degree of real courage was necessary to brave the horrors of this retreat, than to face the fire of a battery.
During the night our situation was worse than in the day, for there was then nothing to divert our attention from our wretched state; and although we despaired of ever seeing it, we felt that indescribable longing after home, which every one must have felt in the same situation. It will be needless to detail our next day’s sufferings—they were of the same nature as the preceding, only more aggravated.
We were now drawing near Roderigo, where our baggage had been ordered; each day our hopes had been kept alive in the expectation that we would find provision at our halting place, but we were deceived. Now, however, these expectations were more likely to be realised. About dusk we took up our ground on the face of a hill near Roderigo, and the weather changing to a severe frost, was intensely cold. We had not been long halted when the well known summons of ‘Turn out for biscuit,’ rung in our ears. The whole camp was soon in a bustle, and some of the strongest having gone for it, they received two days’ rations for each man. It was customary to divide it, but on this night it was dispensed with, and each eagerly seizing on what he could get, endeavoured to allay the dreadful gnawing which had tormented us during four days of unexampled cold and fatigue. In a short time, two rations more were delivered, and the inordinate eating that ensued threatened to do more mischief than the former want. We went into quarters next day, and many who had borne up during the retreat now fell sick, and were sent to the hospital.
From this place we removed in a few days some way into Portugal, where we took up our winter quarters in a small village, called Fonte Arcada.
CHAPTER VII.
Fonte Arcada, in which our regiment was quartered, (the remainder of the division being distributed in the surrounding villages,) was situated on the face of a hill, which formed one of an extensive range; at its foot ran one of the tributary streams of the Douro, meandering through a fertile and tolerably well cultivated valley. The village itself was built on a bare and rugged mass of rock, and the frowning ledge that hung over the town gave it a wild and romantic air. The place had not escaped the ravages of war, but being more out of the common route, it had suffered little in comparison to others. The houses had rather a mean appearance, with the exception of three or four belonging to fidalgos, who resided in the village; but the situation was healthy. And after we had cleaned it, (which we had to do with every Portuguese village before we could inhabit them,) we felt ourselves very comfortable, and soon forgot our former fatigue, which we did the readier, that we had now a commanding officer who interested himself warmly in our welfare.
Lieutenant-Colonel Lloyd had joined us from the 43d regiment. I have already had occasion to mention him, in describing the retreat from Salamanca. No eulogium, however, of mine can convey an idea of his merits as a man and soldier; but it is deeply engraven on the hearts of those who served under him.
So harmoniously did he blend the qualities of a brave, active, intelligent officer with those of the gentleman and the scholar, that the combination fascinated all ranks. His exterior corresponded with his mind; he was somewhat above the middle size—and to a face and head cast in the true Roman mould, was joined an elegant and manly body. His system of discipline was not coercive; he endeavoured to encourage, not to terrify—if there was a single spark of pride or honour in the bosom, he would fan it to a flame. His aim was to prevent crime rather than to punish it, and he rarely resorted to corporal punishment. When he did so, it was only in the case of hardened ill-doers, with whom no lenient measures would succeed; even then, he never punished to the tenth part of the sentence awarded; and if the culprit sued for pardon, promising not to be guilty again, he would say, ‘I take you at your word, and forgive you, but remember your promise.’