CHAPTER VI.WELSH WIVES.
We did prefer (as soon as we had got our breath again) knowing what wasgoing on in our usual world overhead to remaining in ignoble security inDavy’s locker, for so we named his cave. Accordingly we scrambled andcrawled and pushed our way up the far-end of the cavern, till at last theaperture resembled a chimney lined with ferns instead of soot more thanaught else. We emerged at last into the open air full of morningsunshine, and perceived that we were now quite beyond the enemy’s linesand once more among our own people.
The first thing to be done in this situation was naturally—to talk; asgood and true Celts we all agreed to that; and when we got into thehigh-road we found no dearth of people to talk to. They were gatheringlike ants from every quarter, and the one topic which each man liked todiscourse on was simply this: how he was going to fight the French. Thebonfires last night had aroused the country, and some of the men we methad come from distant parts of the county.
Among other items of news they told us that the men of St. David’s hadrushed in a body to their cathedral, from the roof of which they hadinsisted on tearing off the lead; six blacksmiths had come forward, andhad at once cast the said lead into bullets. Old and young, master andman, all had turned out. A dissenting minister was there (the ReverendMr. Jones was his name), and after him marched all the men of hiscongregation. The news had come as he was preaching to them, and theworthy man had at once changed rhetoric for action. “Let us fight a goodfight,” said he, and proceeded to put his words to the proof and himselfat the head of his men.
A choleric major rode about the lanes near St. Dogmael’s collectingrecruits. He met a Mr. Jones (another one): “Come along to fight theFrench,” was Major James’ greeting. But Mr. Jones had business whichcalled him elsewhere.
“By the Lord Harry,” said the Major, drawing his sword, “if you don’tcome this minute I’ll slice your head off like a turnip.”
The fear of the French was an unknown quantity, but the fear of the Majorwas very well known indeed, and Mr. Jones went.
We mingled exultantly with the throng of our people, and presently oureyes were gladdened by the sight of a gallant body of men—all wellequipped and well mounted—the Castle Martin Yeomanry. These were joinedby the Cardiganshire Militia, the Fencible Infantry of Colonel Knox, andsome seamen and artillery, the whole under the command of Lord Cawdor.
We had got into Fishguard by this time, and we hung about the door of the“Royal Oak,” where a council of war was being held by ourofficers—namely, Lord Milford, Lord Cawdor, Colonel Knox, Colonel Colby,Colonel Ackland, Colonel Dan Vaughan, Major James, and the Governor ofFishguard Fort, Colonel George Vaughan. The troops formed in theturnpike road just outside the town, and here we three had to separate,for Davy wished to accompany the troops, Ann to join her Aunt Jemima, andI to get something to eat at my father’s house, for I had only had hastysnatches hitherto, and I had a growing boy’s appetite. My parent was somuch astonished at the course of events that he was not even surprised tosee me when I walked, as bold as brass, into his shop; and never evenasked if I had taken French leave of my master. But before satisfying mynatural filial affection I (together with Davy) escorted Nancy to theabode of her relative, who, however, was not at home. As we turned togo, Nancy having taken leave of Davy in an affectionate manner, because,as she said, he had appeared just in the nick of time, we espied thatstalwart female, Jemima Nicholas, coming along the road from Goodwicksurrounded by twelve Frenchmen, {129} whom she had had the courage andaddress to bring—probably allured by false promises—all the way fromLlanunda; assisted by the military, she now conducted them into theguard-house at Fishguard.
Leaving Nancy under the efficient protection of her aunt with lighthearts, Davy and I went our several ways; but ere long, after recountingmy adventures and receiving a large amount of hero-worship from mymother, I once more found myself on the road leading to the scene ofaction. It seemed impossible to keep away. On the top of a high rock Isaw a crowd of people in a state of great and evident excitement. Ihastened to join them, and perceived at once the reason of theirgesticulations. There were the three tall men-of-war and the lugger,with all sail set, standing out from the land, and apparently sailingaway with all speed to the place from whence they came. We could hardlybelieve our eyes. We looked at Carnunda; there floated the French flag,and the rocks were dark with men.
“The Lord hath delivered them into our hand,” said the Reverend Mr.Jones, who stood near.
This sight increased the confidence of our people amazingly, as much as(we afterwards heard) it struck dismay into the hearts of General Tateand his men, they not being animated by the spirit which moved theclassic heroes to burn their boats so as to destroy the means of retreatand to force themselves to action. The base desertion of their comrades,the large supply of brandy in the farm-house cellars, and a providentialbut comic mistake, seem to have been the three principal causes of thefailure of the French—one may say of the utter and singular collapse oftheir undertaking.
The mistake occurred in this manner. Large numbers of the country-women(among whom were Jemima and Nancy) had assembled on a hill commanding anextensive prospect, including the French outpost at Carnunda, desiring,with the curiosity of their sex, to see as much as possible of what wasgoing forward. It was, by the way, the same hill on which I had alsostationed myself. Most of the women wore their distinctive shawl, ascarlet whittle, this being the colour appropriated by the daughters ofPembrokeshire; while their Cardiganshire neighbours have adopted thewhite whittle. All of them at that time wore high black hats. LordCawdor, as he was riding about inspecting things in general, was struckby the resemblance of a mass of these women to a body of regulars, and hecalled upon the daughters of Cambria to give a proof of their patriotismby marching towards the enemy in regular order. The females responded bya considerable cackle, which, however, signified assent. I saw Jemimaand her niece in the front of the regiment which moved forward boldlytowards the enemy. Ere long a sudden dip in the ground rendered theminvisible to the French, at which place, turning into a side lane, theycame again to the back of the hill whence they had started, and renewedtheir former course; it was done almost in the way in which, I am told,these effects are managed in a theatre. This manœuvre caused muchlaughter among the spectators, and no little puffing and panting to thefair sex who accomplished it, many of whom were somewhat stout and notvery young. However, it had the desired effect. General Tateacknowledged afterwards that they had been taken for a regiment ofregulars, and the French troops (greatly composed of convicts) utterlylost heart. If they had but realised that it took a matter of seven daysfor the news to travel to London, they need not have distressedthemselves on the score of quick aid from England.
In the meantime parties of marauders in a half-drunken state continued toprowl about the neighbourhood. A considerable number of militia andpeasantry encountered five of these men, who were dragging with them ayoung calf. They dropped the calf and advanced to the combat, while ourmen, thinking the odds unfair, singled out five of our sailors (of whomDavy Jones was one), and Mr. Whitesides, a Liverpool gentleman whoassisted, as a stranger, at the selection, dismissed them to their workwith this benediction:—
“Take time, my boys, and do it well!”
The French soldiers fired, and one of our men fell, wounded in the foot;then it was the tars’ turn, and they fired with such judgment that threeof the enemy lay flat on the ground, and the remaining two departedrapidly. One of the three proved to be dead, the other two badlywounded. This encounter of a few, with a multitude looking on, took oneback to the old days of Arthur’s knights, or to the still older days ofGoliath of Gath.
Considerable numbers of Frenchmen were by this time in a very unpleasingstate of body and mind in consequence of rash indulgence in port wine andpoultry boiled in butter. They were captured in small groups by thepeasantry, who laid in wait for them behind the gorse bushes which aboundin this region, a
nd who jumped out on them with scant ceremony wheneverthey had a chance. A man belonging to Llanunda village, taking acautious peep through his own little window from the outside, perceivedone of the enemy making free with his food and wine; the Frenchman wasenjoying himself thoroughly, he had made an excellent fire from most ofthe furniture, and he was toasting his legs thereat as he sipped thegenerous wine with the air of a connoisseur. This was more than theTaffy could stand. He had not saved that wine from a wreck atconsiderable personal risk to see it sending a glow through the veins ofa foreigner; he flung himself into the room with a strong expressionbehind his teeth and a hay-fork clenched tightly in his hand. TheFrenchman jumped up and thrust with his bayonet at the master of thehouse, who turned aside the blow, then, taking the foe on his pitchfork,tossed him into the fire, as he might have pitched a truss of hay on tothe rick.
A party of marauders set forth with the view of plundering Manorowen, agentleman’s seat in the vicinity; but being followed by a detachment ofthe Yeomanry, they returned in a very different manner from what they hadanticipated.
And now we, on our knoll—and there were some thousands of us, includingpeasantry, fishermen, shopkeepers, and the resident gentry of threecounties—raised a shout of pride and triumph as Lord Cawdor at the headof his small troop of Yeomanry Cavalry rode off to inspect the enemy atclose quarters. The sinking sun shone on their glittering accoutrementsand splendid uniforms, and a glow of satisfaction filled our hearts as wenoted the fine chargers they bestrode, for a Pembrokeshire man loveshorseflesh as truly as a Yorkshire man; and not even my cloth has everrestrained me from being a genuine Philhippos. The Castle MartinYeomanry have always been celebrated for their horses; and indeed it wasno matter of surprise to any one to hear, as we did hear afterwards, thatGeneral Tate mistook these men for the staff surrounding some Englishgeneral, the main body of whose troops were defiling around the side ofthe mountain; in truth, as the courteous reader knows, none other thanthe old women. Lord Cawdor, at the head of his forty yeoman, trottedclose under Carnunda, the stronghold of the enemy, who could, if they hadpossessed guns, have swept them all off the face of the earth. As it wasthey narrowly escaped falling into an ambush. A force of French soldierswere lying in wait for them a little further up the road, and had LordCawdor taken this route, as was his lordship’s first design, his menmight have been surprised, though even in that case we may well believethey would have given as good as they got.
However, darkness falling suddenly, caused a change of plans; Lord Cawdorand the reconnoitring party rejoined the main body, and the Britishtroops took up their quarters for the night in Fishguard.
The Fishguard Invasion by the French in 1797 Page 7
