On the arrival of our baggage in the afternoon, we were more comfortable, but the rain ceased not night or day, from the evening of the 12th, to the morning of the 16th, when the enemy retired across the Nive, and destroyed two arches of the bridge to prevent us following them. On taking possession of Cambo, a few hours afterwards, its whole population consisted of a dragoon who had been left behind, an old man and his wife, completely bed-ridden, and a pig, for the head of which I paid a few days after no less than four dollars. The absence of the inhabitants we did not regret, for having left all their bedding behind them, it afforded us a treat such as we had seldom experienced during the previous six months, having been only thirteen nights under the roof of a house, out of one hundred and eighty-one days the campaign had continued.
Liberty is so highly prized by, and is so essentially necessary to the well-being of every individual, that we cannot be surprised that men should be tenacious of what they conceive to be their glory and happiness, and in defence of, or to preserve it, sacrifice all, even life itself. An example of the strength of this feeling, appears in the following occurrence:—
About an hour after we took possession of Cambo, a private soldier of the 66th British regiment, who was made prisoner by the enemy on the 10th of November, escaped from his jailers, and from a village immediately opposite to Cambo, made direct for the bridge, amid a sharp fire from a long chain of sentries. Finding the bridge destroyed, he seemed to hesitate whether he would return to his prison, or commit himself to the raging waters. A great part of our brigade having by this time lined the bank of the river, provided with ropes, canteen straps, &c. to assist him, cheered on seeing him stop, which no doubt encouraged him to attempt a passage from the right to the left bank of the Nive. In an instant he plunged into the river, which being dreadfully swollen, carried him down at a fearful rate; for a few seconds, appearances were in favour of his gaining the left bank in safety, but after being more than two-third parts of the way across, he sunk, then rose, but sunk again. A second time he appeared on the surface of the foaming deep, but in two or three seconds he again disappeared, and never rose again.
The French having destroyed all the bridges on the Nive, and the river being so far above its usual level, as to render a passage by the fords impracticable, the two armies remained cantoned on the Nive and the Adour, from the 16th November to the 8th of December, without either party attempting to resume the offensive. During all this time we were really on a friendly footing with our opponents. The latter came down to the right bank of the Nive, and conversed with us freely on every subject save politics. They were particularly anxious, however, to obtain information regarding the campaign in Germany, for they candidly admitted that the retreat of Bonaparte towards France, but ill corresponded with the bulletins he had caused to be published at Paris. To enlighten them in the matter, we sent them some London newspapers, for which we received a few Moniteurs in return. This we continued to do on the arrival of every succeeding packet from England, until our intercourse was again interrupted by active operations.
War, even when conducted according to the law of civilized nations, is attended with so many evils, that every man possessed of one spark of humanity, will forbear to add to them; and when measures of severity are absolutely necessary to accomplish those things which his duty may require him to perform, they will still be tempered with moderation and humanity, and instantly cease when the object he has in view is obtained. The lustre of military achievements is tarnished by nothing so much as by cruelty, which affords pleasure only to men of the most depraved habits. Acts such as that which I am about to relate, whether to gratify a mean grovelling revenge, or to suit political convenience, cannot fail to expose the perpetrators to the indignation of every person in whose breast there is to be found one particle of justice or humanity.
An officer of the 92nd regiment being on piquet at the bridge one evening, hailed the French sentry posted at the opposite side of the chasm made by the enemy when they retired from Cambo, and as he spoke the French language fluently, desired him to say to the officer on piquet, that he wished to have a little chit-chat with him. The latter instantly appeared, but instead of agreeing to the proposal of his opponent, he threatened him with the vengeance of all the men under his command if he did not immediately retire. In vain did Lieutenant H——bs explain the object he had in view. Bellowing and stamping like a madman, the French officer would listen to no explanation—would hear of no apology—the opportunity or lessening the number of his enemy's being too favourable to allow to pass unimproved. Finding that the wrath of the hot-headed mortal would only be appeased by blood, Lieutenant H——bs considered it more prudent to retire than brave the other alternative offered him. He accordingly walked away towards the piquet-house at the end of the bridge, on entering which, a ball struck the door a few inches from his head, fired from a French musket, by order of this disgrace to the military habit.
A few days afterwards I was detached one morning before day-break up the left bank of the Nive, to watch the motions of our not-to-be-trusted friends. Placing myself behind a very large tree, immediately opposite to a village where the enemy had a considerable body of infantry, I fancied myself completely out of their view. Obtaining a glimpse of me, however, before they had dismissed their troops from the alarm-post, the officer commanding the out-lying piquet advanced towards the river, and lifting his cap, pointed to Cambo. Paying no attention to the hint, it was instantly repeated. Having again disregarded it, he, instead of repeating the friendly signal, called down two files of his piquet, and detached as many to his right and left. These ominous preparations, particularly as my mission had ended, induced me to remove from my hiding-place, and wend my way to Cambo. With my friend's bridge adventure fresh in my recollection, and not knowing but I might be treated in a similar manner, I quitted my retreat cautiously, which my opponent observing, he, to remove all suspicion from my mind, again stepped forward, and after saluting me two or three times in the most gentlemanly manner, rejoined his piquet, evidently pleased with the issue of the affair. The conduct of this officer forms a delightful contrast with that of his brother sub. at the bridge of Cambo, who, of all the French officers then immediately opposed to us, was perhaps the only one who could have been guilty of such a cruel, and truly ungentlemanly act.
Being of opinion that the death of every officer killed with the first battalion, whose proper place at the time was the second battalion at home, would afford his countrymen good grounds for charging him with the crime of MURDER, Colonel Cameron laid it down as an invaluable rule, to apply for leave to send home the officers belonging to the second battalion, on their being relieved by the effective members from home. Accordingly, on the arrival of a detachment at Cambo, on the 27th November, the Colonel applied, and obtained permission for myself and three other officers to proceed to England.
The latter having arranged with the pay-master early in the forenoon, took leave of Cambo at three o'clock on the 8th of December. But eight o'clock having tolled before that indispensable personage and myself had adjusted our matters, and as an order had been issued some hours before, for a general attack upon the enemy's position along the whole line of the Nive, I waited upon the commanding-officer, and requested permission to accompany him across the river on the following morning. To this application he quickly and sternly replied, "No, Sir, you have done enough;" and as if this refusal was not sufficient, he sent the Adjutant to me a few minutes afterwards to intimate, that if I did not leave Cambo immediately, I would incur his displeasure,—and if I attempted to join the regiment in the morning, he would place me under arrest. Although perfectly aware that the Colonel's conduct proceeded from a friendly intention, I was nevertheless dreadfully disappointed, for on such an occasion I thought he might have indulged me.
The night being dark, and my knowledge of the road being slender, I ventured for the first time in my life to disobey the orders of my commanding-officer, and join a party of my friends who had assembled to dedicate a cup to him who was on the eve of bidding some of them an eternal farewell. After spending two or three happy hours, we threw ourselves upon our mattresses, to catch a little repose before we should be called upon—my brethren to proceed in search of new dangers and victories, and I in search of home and friends. When I gazed on the gay and joyous countenances of the group, as each individual rose to retire from the festive scene, and reflected on what an important change they severally might undergo before the close of another day, my feelings had nearly overpowered me. To describe them on that occasion words are inadequate. Suffice it to say that they were the feelings of a man taking leave of companions whose friendship he possessed,—friendship contracted in the haunts of peace, and cemented in the field of strife. Not that kind of friendship which grows out of interested motives or designs, but that which makes one man take as much interest in the fate and fortunes of another, as if they were his own.