I remained behind to see the siege, and pay a visit to my old friends of the 7th Fusiliers, with a Captain Daniel Capel, of the 14th. On the 5th of April I went with them to look at the breaching batteries, and to visit an old acquaintance, who had been wounded the day before by a musket-ball through the side, while doing duty as an engineer in the trenches. Poor fellow! he was afterwards killed on the Pyrenees by lightning; he belonged to the 37th Regiment. I spent a very pleasant day with the Fusiliers, but it was doomed alas! to be the last with several of my gallant friends, and amongst others, poor Saint Pol, who the next night was mortally wounded at the storming of the large breach.
On my return, late in the evening, to my quarters at Olivença, what with the haze in my head, occasioned by wine, the foggy state of the evening, the smoke from the fire of the different batteries, the captain of dragoons and myself lost each other, and our way. By mistake my horse, who had been taken from the enemy, took the wrong road, and instead of going to the left, towards a ford that we had to cross at some distance in rear of the camp, he chose to take me to the foot of the bridge leading to Badajoz, where the enemy had a cavalry picket; fortunately for me, we had a strong covering party of the 43rd Regiment lying down on the ground. Being unable to give the countersign, these were going to shoot me for a French officer. They seized my steed, and knocked me off his back with the butt end of a musket. I was dragged on the ground back to the camp, where I had to encounter the jokes of my friends, softened it is true by sincere congratulations on my escape. My horse, whose head had been turned from Badajoz, got loose, and managed to find his way back to Olivença, where I was lucky enough to find him the next day; for sometimes lost horses were borrowed to carry baggage, commissary stores, or other articles, and they undergoing various metamorphoses, such as cropping the ears and tails, with other little changes in their appearances, the lawful owners could with great difficulty recognise their own steeds.
These slight-of-hand tricks used occasionally to be played; and with an army consisting of so many thousand troops, composed of various nations, and covering a vast extent of country, it was not a very easy matter to trace a lost animal, whether horse, mule, or donkey.
On the evening of the 6th, Badajoz was stormed and taken. No other troops in the world could have carried a citadel so strong, and so manfully defended; they behaved most nobly, in spite of death and destruction, which were dealt around with no sparing hand.
Our army was indeed a gallant band of warriors, such as we shall never see again; such as the world probably will never again produce.
Having rejoined the 14th Dragoons at Valverde, I proceeded with them to the several towns of Almendrab, Santa Martha, Villalva, Villa Franca, Fuente de Meastro, Rebeiro, and nearly to Usagre. Marshal Soult pushed forward his cavalry, and some outpost skirmishing took place. Near Villa Franca, the 12th, 14th, and 16th Light Dragoons, with six regiments of heavy horse, having joined and drawn up, we expected a general cavalry action. It passed over, however, with some skirmishing in front with a numerous body of the enemy’s dragoons, who manœuvred to cover the retreat of their army.
I recollect one of Soult’s scouts, a Spaniard, being taken by a patrol of the 14th Dragoons. This fellow was observed stealing, under cover of night, in the direction of our pickets, when he was seized and brought in. Being threatened with instant death unless he gave up his despatch, he fell on his knees and implored for mercy, directing the officer to cut the third leather button from his coat, when he would find what he demanded. On taking off the button, a tiny slip of paper was discovered, on which was written these words, “Hold out: I am coming.” I saw this morceau; it was short and to the purpose. It had been sent by the marshal to the governor of Badajoz.
My leave of absence having expired, I was obliged to return towards Lisbon. I had been all day with my brother on the advanced picket, looking at our videttes and those of the French, near Usagre, when, having laid down in my clothes to get a little rest, orders arrived to again advance. No engagement, however, being expected, I was advised to remain where I was for the night, and to set out in the morning on my route for the Tagus.
Next day, whilst quietly retracing my steps thither, a brilliant cavalry affair took place near the above-named town and Llerena, when the French were completely routed, and many prisoners made. I was sorry I had not remained to witness the rencontre, but consoled myself with the reflection that I had probably been saved a broken head, where I should have gained neither credit nor thanks.
The second day after leaving the army I reached Badajoz, and went over the defences of that city, which bore strongly the marks of recent strife. Not the least affecting evidence of mortal affray were the bodies of several of my gallant countrymen floating in the ditch, and which people were employed in removing in order to their being buried. The more I examined the works, the greater my astonishment at the bravery and perseverance of our troops. By one unacquainted with military tactics, time alone would have been pronounced capable of effecting the ruin before him. He could never have conceived it possible that walls so apparently impregnable would have yielded to the force of a besieging army. But for the escalade, indeed, failure had been inevitable where success was now complete, insured as it had been by immense sacrifice of life.