“Oh, holy Mary!—I forgot to report myself!—and, may be, I won’t catch it from the ould lad?” exclaimed the partner of Lord Wellington, as he sprang from the barrel he was seated on, and hounded after the messenger in desperate alarm, while a roar of laughter accompanied his hurried exit. A dock an durris, for we were all Scotch and Irish intermixed, passed from hand to hand, for the departure of Lieutenant Crotty appeared to be the signal for a general dispersion; and I accompanied the hospitable friend who had offered me a sleeping corner in his tent.
Presently, the cantonments became quiet, and light after light disappeared. Within musket range, five thousand men were sleeping, and yet not a sound was heard but the measured step of “the relief” as it went its rounds, or the loud challenge of the sentry, answered by a whispered countersign. To me, this seemed the opening of a new epoch in my life. I now felt myself a soldier. The camp was to be my future home; and, stretched around me, lay the victors of many a field, with whom, side by side, I was to view, for the first time, the flash of “red artillery.” My couch was fern, my pillow a bullock trunk; and, wrapped in my cloak, I sought the balmy visit of the drowsy god, but sought it vainly. A feverish excitement had banished sleep, and I could not but envy the profoundness of my companion’s repose, whose heavy breathing, a minute after the brief petition of “God bless us!” had passed his lips, told how sound were his slumbers. I dosed at last—dreamed of siege and battle-field, while gentler thoughts floated at times among these martial visions, and love and war were singularly blended. Day dawned, a bugle sounded, the drums beat the réveillée, and instantly the camp, hitherto so silent, was all life and bustle, like an alarmed bee-hive, as the startled soldiery issued from tent and hovel. In a few minutes each regiment formed on its respective parade; and the fourth division was reported under arms, as a horseman, attended by an orderly dragoon, galloped along the front of the cantonment. On reaching the flank of the line, he reined up his horse and rode slowly past, directing an eagle glance at every regiment that composed the division. The drums rolled, arms were presented, and I had no difficulty in recognising in the plainly-dressed stranger, one who had already divided the attention of the world with the great Napoleon—the victor of Assaye—the hero of Salamanca—Lord Wellington!
CHAPTER XXVIII. A SPANISH INN THE EMPECINADO—AND A SURPRISE.
“True courage grows in proportion to the increase of danger.”
“This arm shall make a corpse of him who hesitates when danger calls, or retreats when it presses.”—The Robbers.
Having brought two or three letters of introduction to some veteran soldiers who served with my father in the Low Countries, the delivery of each ensured me a hospitable welcome at their respective cantonments. A month had nearly been consumed in rambling visits, when it was officially intimated, that as the armies were preparing for active operations, the presence of every officer would be expected at the head-quarters of his regiment. With deep regret I made all arrangements for a journey to Valençia; and having procured mules and a guide to secure the transport of the persons and property of my fosterbrother and myself, I set out at dawn of day, on the 7th of March, to pass through Toledo and Cuenca, and reach the head-quarters of the Anglo-Sicilian army, to which my regiment was attached.
The route lay between the French outposts on one side, and a hilly country on the other, infested by Partida bands; and, sooth to say, it would have been difficult to decide on which hand lay the greater danger. From the French scouting-parties it would be desirable to preserve a respectful distance; and for Guerilla civility, we should be mainly indebted to the protection afforded by a British uniform.
As the head-quarters of the south were established at Toledo, the enemy’s posts were extended over the country in front of that city, to keep open the communications, and enable their foragers to bring in any supplies they could obtain. Hence, these roads were rendered dangerous by the constant visits of French pickets and marauders; and, by the advice of our friend the muleteer, we leaned towards the mountains on our right, after we had crossed the Ibor by an unguarded ford below the Hospital del Obispo.