The enemy being but ill supplied with provisions, and the country in which they now were (Portugal) being quite unsuited to their operations, as well as unable to supply their wants, the French Marshal, having provisioned Rodrigo, which was the object sought for when he formed his junction with the army of the north, resolved upon retracing his steps, which he did on the following day, the 28th.
Lord Wellington issued a most flattering order to the troops engaged on the 25th, and so delighted was he with the conduct of the 5th and 77th that he held them up as an example to the army. On the 29th we went into cantonments, our division occupying Aldea-de-Ponte; and until our arrival there, I had no idea the loss of men and horses on the 27th had been so great. The ground was thickly covered with both, and immense numbers of vultures had already established themselves in the neighbourhood. These birds, the sure harbinger of a disputed field, crowded around us in vast flocks: whether this was owing to the lateness of the season, or to a scantiness in the supply of their accustomed food, I know not; but the voracity of these birds, and consequently their boldness, was beyond anything I had ever before witnessed. In many instances they would throw off their ordinary wariness, and strut before the carcase they were devouring, as if they supposed we were about to dispute their pretensions to it; but it is astonishing what birds of this description will do when really pressed by hunger.
Fuente-Guinaldo was occupied by our Light Division, who made that town agreeable both to themselves and also to their brothers in arms, not only by their hospitality, but by the attraction of their theatrical performances, which were got up in a style quite astonishing, considering the place and the difficulties which they must have found in supplying themselves with suitable costume; but the Light Division had an esprit de corps among them, whether in the field or quarters, that must be seen to be understood. Their dramatis personæ were admirable, and Captain Kent of the Rifles, by his great abilities, rendered every performance in which he took a part doubly attractive. The 3rd Division, although unable to cope with the Light in this species of amusement, got up races, which, though inferior to those of the former year at Torres Vedras, were far from bad; amongst the jockeys was one, an officer in the Portuguese service, who, though an excellent horseman, was, without exception, the ugliest man in the division, or perhaps in the army. Major Leckie of the 45th took the greatest dislike to him on this account, and gave him the name of “Ugly Mug”—by which cognomen he was after known.
Just as the horses were about to start for a tolerably heavy stake, I went up to Leckie, who was one of the most knowing men on our turf. “Well, Leckie,” said I, “who’s the winning jockey to-day?”—“Why look,” replied he, “I’ve laid it on thick myself upon Wilde’s horse, Albuquerque, and tortured as I am with this infernal attack of gout (to which he was a great martyr), I have hobbled out to witness the race; but, my dear fellow, I don’t care one rush who wins, provided Mug loses.” However, Mug won his race easily, and poor Leckie went home quite out of sorts. Whether from the effect of his favourite horse losing, or “Mug’s” winning, or that the exertion was too much for him, I know not, but upon his return to Aldea-de-Ponte, he was seized with a violent attack of gout; towards midnight he was a little more composed, and had just sunk into a gentle slumber, when he was awoke by a young Ensign who had lately joined, and who occupied an apartment in the house where Leckie was quartered. This officer played a little on the violin, and had a very good voice; he began to practise both, and commenced singing the little air in Paul and Virginia of
Tell her I love her while the clouds drop rain,
Or while there’s water in the pathless main;
but whether from being imperfect in the song, or that those particular lines struck his fancy, he never got beyond them. Leckie became very fidgety—every scrape of the violin touched his heart, but in a far different manner from that in which it seemed to affect the performer; a quarter of an hour passed on, and the same lines were repeated; at last the accompaniment grew fainter and fainter, until it died away altogether.
Leckie became composed: “Well!” exclaimed he, “that young fellow is at rest for the night, and so I hope shall I be,” and he was beginning to settle himself in a more easy posture when the same sounds reassailed him. This was too bad! He sprang out of bed, the perspiration rolling in large drops down his forehead; he rushed to the door of the Ensign’s apartment, which he forced at one push, and in a second was standing before the astonished musician in his shirt. The fatal words, “Tell her I love her,” had just been uttered, and he was preparing to add, “while the clouds drop rain,” when Leckie exclaimed, “By God, sir, I’ll tell her anything you wish, if you’ll only allow me to sleep for half an hour.” It would be impossible to convey an idea of the confusion of the young man upon finding his commanding officer before him at such a time and upon such an occasion; he made a thousand apologies, and poor Leckie, who was one of the pleasantest fellows in the world, in spite of his pain, could not avoid laughing at the occurrence, which amused him to the hour of his death.
Matters being in the state I have described in the month of October 1811, and as there was no likelihood of any active operations taking place, we began to make ourselves as comfortable as the wretched village of Aldea-de-Ponte would admit of. Any person acquainted with a Portuguese cottage will readily acknowledge that a good chimney is not its forte; we therefore turned all the skill our masons possessed to the construction of fire-places that would not smoke, and it required all their knowledge in the arcana of their profession to succeed even in part. However, they did succeed, partially, I must admit; but it was easy to satisfy us, and we made up for the badness of our fire-places by stocking them abundantly with wood, of which article there was no lack,—but we had barely sufficient straw to keep our horses and mules alive, much less afford ourselves a bed. In the entire village, I believe, there were not a dozen mattresses. Provisions were but ill supplied us, and we were reduced to subsist upon half allowance of bad biscuit. As to money, we had scarcely a sou; for although there was plenty of specie in Lisbon for our use, the want of animals to convey it to the army left us as ill off as if there had not been a dollar in the chest of the Paymaster-General. So that between smoky houses, no beds, little to eat, and less money, we were in anything but what might be termed “good winter-quarters.”
This state of privation was sadly annoying to the soldiers, and the men of my corps, or, as I am more in the habit of calling them, “the boys,” were much perplexed as to what they would do. Several desertions had taken place in the army, but our fellows did not like that at-all-at-all. “Why, then, by my sowl,” said Owen Mackguekin, of the Grenadiers, “I think Misther Strahan, the commissary, is grately to blame to keep us poor boys without mate to ate, when those pizanos have plenty of good sheep and goats; and sure if they’d ate them themselves, a man wouldn’t say anything; but they’ll neither ate them, nor give us lave to do so, and sure a’tanny rate, baccallâo and azete[[20]] is good enough for them.” I need scarcely remark that an argument so full of sound sense was not likely to be thrown away upon the hearers of Owen Mackguekin. From this moment our fellows determined to be their own commissaries.