In the meantime we were actively employed in practising landings from the flat-bottomed boats, as if in the face of an enemy, and scampering over the rocks to keep the men in exercise. This salubrious mode of warfare continued without intermission until Sir John Moore contrived to have secret information conveyed to the army, when we immediately dropped down out of reach of the Swedish batteries; and shortly afterwards, having eluded the vigilance of Gustavus, to the great joy of all, on June 29th our gallant chief arrived safe on board the fleet.
Setting sail for England on July 2nd, we arrived off Yarmouth about the middle of the month. Here taking in water and fresh provisions, we continued our course for Spithead; and thence we took our second departure from England, this time for Portugal, the more delighted since we left our tails behind us. To the great joy of the whole army an order arrived from the Horse Guards, while we lay at Spithead, to cut off the men’s queues. These, from their shape, and being generally soaped for effect, were called pigtails; thenceforth the custom of plastering the men’s heads with soap was abolished in the British Army.
TO PORTUGAL.
Sailing from St. Helen’s on July 31st, 1808, August 19th brought us close off the coast of Portugal. Next morning we commenced landing at Figueira, close to the mouth of the Mondego. A large part of the army were already on shore, and some of the troops had commenced moving forward when Sir John Moore received a despatch informing him that Sir Arthur Wellesley had fought and defeated the enemy at Rolica, and hourly expected a second engagement. The disembarkation was instantly countermanded; the troops on march were recalled, and put on board as quickly as the high surf and rapidity of the current would permit. Everything again in sailing order, and every heart elate, we continued our course southward, now steering direct for the theatre of actual war; and the true martial spirit glowed in the breast of every true soldier.
Imagine, then, what must have been our feelings on the following morning (August 21st) when in almost a dead calm we moved slowly along, apparently rendered more slow by our plainly hearing the heavy booming of cannon, at that moment pouring forth their fury from the heights of Vimieiro. But they alone who have been in battle and cordially mingled in fight, can sympathise with the feelings which thrill through every nerve and agitate the frame of those who, all but in reach of the field, yet are withheld from participating in its glory. Intense excitement painfully marked the veteran’s contracted brow, while fiery impatience flashed in the eyes of the young soldiers.
Creeping along the scarcely ruffled surface of the waters like wounded snakes or Alexandrine verse, we, seemingly in so many years, arrived in three days in the unquiet bay or roadstead of Peniche. Here, although the distant sea continued calm, still the surf so dashed against the shore that we found much difficulty in landing. When this at last was done, we immediately proceeded to unite with Sir Arthur Wellesley’s troops, whom we found still upon the ground, so late the theatre of their gallant exploits. This, our first march, although but of three leagues, was severely felt, since with the exception of a scramble over the rocks in the vicinity of Gottenborg harbour, we had been for upward of four months cooped up in miserable little transports. The men had scarcely the use of their limbs; and being so long unaccustomed to carry their packs, to which were now added three days’ provisions and sixty rounds of ball-cartridge, in this their first march, with the thermometer between ninety and a hundred, many were left behind and slowly followed after. The 4th or King’s Own Regiment, with whom we were then brigaded, from its seniority of number, marched in front. Although at the time perhaps the finest looking body of men in the Army, the select of three battalions, yet, being generally rather advanced in age as soldiers and heavy-bodied, they were on this day continually falling out of the ranks and flanking the road. This afforded an opportunity to one of our light hardy Irishmen (a class of which the 28th Regiment was then chiefly composed) to remark: “Faith! this is a very deceiving march; the royal milestones are so close to each other.”
HEAVY MARCHING ORDER.
Nor did the officers suffer less than the men. Being mostly very young, and with the exception of those who were at Copenhagen, where little or no marching took place, never having seen a shot fired, they were totally ignorant of the nature of a campaign. Means of transport being always very difficult to procure in Portugal and Spain, we all overloaded ourselves, carrying a boat-cloak, in itself heavy, in which was rolled a partial change of dress. Our haversacks contained, as did the men’s, three days’ provisions, to which was added an extra pair of boots or shoes; and every gentleman carried a stout charge of rum on service, when so fortunate as to be able to procure it. Each young warrior too hampered himself with a case of pistols and a liberal quantity of ball-cartridge, and generally a heavy spyglass. Thus heavily equipped, many of us commenced our first day’s march in the Peninsula, in the month of August, with thermometer at ninety-five. However, before we proceeded much further in the campaign, a light cart was allowed to each regiment for the convenience of the officers, which by diminishing our loads wonderfully increased our comfort.
We now fully expected to move rapidly forward against the foe; but slow and solemn marches were substituted. Nor could we account for this extraordinary inaction, although rumour was abroad that this our first campaign in Portugal was in honourable progress through the medium of foolscap and sheepskin. Still we plodded forward, until we arrived at the plains of Queluz, about five miles distant from Lisbon, where we halted, and where our late sluggish movements were accounted for, when we heard of the celebrated Convention of Cintra. By this the Muscovite fleet, which by all the laws of war we considered securely our own, were allowed triumphantly to depart from out the Tagus with their national colours flying; and Junot also with his troops and all their plunder, sacrilegiously carried off from holy temples or wrung from the helpless orphan or widow,—and this ill-gotten freight was conveyed in British ships to the shores of our most inveterate foes.
The three Commanders-in-chief, with whom the more than anxious care of the ministry contemporaneously furnished the small army in Portugal, were recalled to England to account for their conduct, or misconduct—one for having offended some part of the ministry by gaining a splendid victory, another for having offended his country by blasting the fruits of that victory, and the third for having done nothing but ratify a degrading convention, odious to all. It is scarcely necessary here to state that these high personages were (beginning with the junior) Sir Arthur Wellesley, Sir Harry Burrard, and Sir Hugh Dalrymple.