Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular War

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER VII*

  *Pepito intervenes*

  Precautions--Gone to Earth--Foundered--In the Nick of Time--The AlliedArmy--At the Marchesa's Palace--Social Salamanca--LightRefreshments--Messengers--A Recognition

  The stable-yard lay to the rear of the inn. Snow had been fallinglightly during Jack's conversation with the commissary, and one of theservants was busily sweeping the slush into a corner. The stable doorswere open, and several lads and men were attending to the horses of thecommissary's escort, the universal hiss of men employed in thatoccupation being mingled with curses which it was lucky the Frenchmencould not hear or understand. Jack went up to one of the men and askedhim to bring out his mule. The ostler turned from the horse he wasgrooming and looked at Jack with an air of incivility, if not downrightinsolence. He made no movement to carry out the order, and, glancinground, Jack became aware that all the other stable-helps had left theirwork and were gazing at him with the same distrustful, lowering scowl.

  "What's the matter?" he thought.

  The men had been all civility when he gave his mule into their hands onhis arrival. What could be the cause of this unpleasant change ofattitude? Jack was puzzled. Meanwhile he wanted his mule unhaltered andsaddled, and though he was tempted to do it himself, and not trouble thereluctant servants, he saw that such a course would not improve hisposition with them. He knew the Spanish character too well to blusteror dictate. After a pause of only a few moments he addressed the sameman quietly and politely, but with a firmness that admitted no refusal;and the servant, dropping his eyes, turned sullenly to do his bidding.

  A few minutes later, as he rode out of the courtyard, he met thealcalde, looking very angry and much perturbed. He was coming,evidently, from his interview with the commissary. He looked up at Jackas he passed, and half-stopped, as though hesitating whether to addresshim. Jack was surprised to note the same quick glance of suspicion inthe alcalde's eyes as he had seen in those of the stablemen. Theofficial seemed to be on the point of speaking, but he gave a hurriedand anxious glance towards the window of the commissary's room, flushedhotly, and with a final dark look at Jack turned away. Jack rode on,feeling that the eyes of the whole inn were upon him, and possessed byan unaccountable sense of insecurity.

  The meaning of it all flashed upon him quite suddenly. The alcalde hadseen him in close and apparently friendly conversation with thecommissary. Their interview had lasted for a considerable time, andmust have been talked about among the people of the inn. Every Spaniardmust feel that no true patriot would hold amicable intercourse with aFrenchman, an enemy of his country, except under compulsion, and it wasnow evident to Jack that he was regarded as a traitor, perhaps a spy,selling the interests of his compatriots to the invader. The thoughtmade him smile.

  "Shall I go back and tell them?" he said to himself. "They'd besurprised to find how the boot is on the other leg."

  But a moment's reflection convinced him that to reveal his secret wouldnot be politic, even if he were believed. There were too many Frenchmenabout the inn to make it safe for him to enter into long explanations.Then another thought came which promised a spice of adventure.

  "I shouldn't wonder if they follow me, and perhaps try to do for me.They will if they think I'm a French spy. I'll take the Valladolid roadfirst, and cut off to the left when I'm well out of sight from thetown."

  Careful not to look behind, he rode slowly on until a bend in the roadconcealed him from the inn; then he jogged the sides of his mule andquickened its pace from a walk to a trot.

  The snow had ceased to fall, and the afternoon sun promised to thaw thelight glistening mantle that covered the bare country. There was enoughsnow yet on the ground to show clear tracks of his course to anypursuers. Being anxious to get a good start, he soon urged his mule to agallop, hoping that, if he was indeed followed, the hoof-marks mighthave been thawed away from the high-road before he turned off to Medinadel Campo.

  After riding hard for some three miles he came to a river. On eitherside of the bridge the bank sloped down to the water's edge, and Jack,feeling that his mule needed a rest, saw here an excellent opportunityof learning, without risk to himself, whether a pursuit had beencommenced. Dismounting, he led the animal carefully down the shelvingmiry bank, and found that underneath the first arch of the bridge therewas ample room to conceal both himself and the mule from the eyes of anybut careful searchers. The snow had by this time been converted to awashy sludge, and the ground having been trampled by many animals beforehis own, he had no fear of his tracks being sufficiently marked toattract special attention.

  He had remained in his place of concealment but a few minutes when heheard in the distance, in the direction from which he had come, the dullthud of hoofs. As they approached, the sounds were mingled with thesubdued hum of voices. Jack waited with no little curiosity, keeping ahand on his mule's reins to prevent the animal from emerging into view.The sounds grew louder. Several riders galloped their steeds up to theend of the bridge, and halted them for a moment as though in indecision.Then they resumed their progress and rode on to the bridge, the clatterof hoofs awaking an echo from the arches below. When they had gainedthe other side Jack crept carefully up the bank until he could safelypeep over the parapet, and saw four riders pelting rapidly towardsValladolid. He gave a chuckle as he recognized the men who had behavedso churlishly in the stable-yard.

  "A lucky miss!" he thought. "They're after me."

  They were riding horses, and it was clear that but for his littlestratagem he must soon have been overtaken. What should be his coursenow? He could not reckon on their riding much farther along the mainroad, for they would naturally enquire of anyone they might meet if atradesman had been seen riding a mule that way, and in the course of afew miles, allowing for their greater speed, they must suspect thattheir quarry had turned to one side or the other. Obviously he mustlose no time. Retracing his steps, he led the mule from the muddyriver-bed, remounted, and rode along the tow-path in the hope of soondiscovering a road that would lead in the direction of Medina. In a fewminutes he came to a rough and narrow cart-track between two fields onhis left hand. It must lead somewhere, and, being anxious at any rateto put as much ground as possible between himself and his pursuers, Jackwheeled his mule to the left and rode along the rough track at a canter.

  He found that it led into a somewhat wider road, crossing it at anobtuse angle. The ground was much cut up by cart-wheels, and the mulelaboured heavily on the soft swampy ground. Jack eased the pace, hopingthat the start he had obtained would enable him to keep well ahead ofhis pursuers, even if they soon discovered their mistake and had theluck to track him. By and by he came to a considerable ascent, up whichhe was fain to allow the animal to walk, and on reaching the summit hefound the poor beast so breathless that he dismounted and walked slowlyon, leading the mule. Turning after a while in the direction from whichhe had come, he caught a glimpse, in the far distance, of a group ofriders coming towards him. It was impossible to distinguish theirfigures, much less their features. Delay was dangerous; so withouthesitation Jack sprang again on the mule's back and set off once moretowards Medina. For a time he was hidden from the riders by rows ofstunted trees that lined the road. Then the road took a sharp curve tothe right, and before him he saw a long hill, sloping gradually down fornearly a mile towards what appeared to be a plantation. He urged themule now to its top speed, noting with some anxiety that the animal wasbreathing with difficulty, and showing other only too manifest signs offatigue. Before he had reached the foot of the hill it was patentlyflagging, and when, having passed that point, another upward ascentbegan, the mule staggered once or twice, recovered itself, staggeredagain, and, finally, just as Jack came abreast of a low farmhouse thatlay back some sixty yards from the road, it dropped on its knees, itsrider barely escaping being thrown on his head upon the road.

  "Whew! This is awkward," he said to himself. He looked
up the hill hehad just descended. "By George! there they are," he exclaimed under hisbreath. Four riders had just topped the crest, and were coming towardshim, at no great speed, for their horses were evidently tired; butclearly they must overtake him in less than five minutes. Jack lookedaround for some means of escape. He might stand his ground and fightthem, but the odds were against him, and a single crack in the headwould prevent him from reaching Salamanca, and render useless theinformation he had obtained for his general. "I must run for it, buthow and where?" he thought.

  At this moment he heard a sound behind him. Turning hastily, he wasamazed to see a little dark figure clad in a zamarra of sheepskin, ahigh-peaked, narrow-brimmed hat, a red plush waistcoat with many buttonsand clasps, and a brilliant crimson-silk girdle about the waist. In onehand the dwarfish creature carried a large pair of shears, in the otherthe reins of a half-clipped mule, which walked meekly behind him.

  "Pepito!" Jack gasped in amazement.

  Pepito grinned.

  "No time to waste, Senor," he said. "I saw you come down the hill, andthe Busne behind you. Your mule has foundered. Here is a fresh mule Iwas clipping; mount him and ride on."

  Clearly there was no time for explanations. In a moment Jack was on themule's back.

  "Thanks, Pepito!" he said. "But what will you do? Those fellows willkill you."

  Pepito smiled.

  "Never fear, Senor. The Gitano is more than a match for the Busne.Ride, Senor, ride. They have not seen you yet. Quick!"

  He led the mule a few yards beyond the spot at which Jack had halted,and pointed to a road that went off the main-road to right and left.

  "The left road leads to Medina," he said. Then he struck the mulesharply on the flank, and waved his hand gaily to Jack, who set off atfull speed, rounded a curve, and was soon lost to sight. As hedisappeared, he heard behind him the shrill notes of a song that wasever and anon on Pepito's lips:

  "The Romany chal to his horse did cry, As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw, Kosko gry! Romany gry! Muk man kistur tute knaw."

  He smiled as he heard the uncouth words, and rode on, wondering by whatcunning device the little gipsy would throw the pursuers off the scent,as he evidently intended to do.

  Jack had intended to make his way back to the Posada de Oriente atMedina, and there obtain a rest and a change of mules. But having got afresh steed by Pepito's fortunate intervention, he changed his plan, anddecided to make straight for Salamanca by Carpio and Cantalapiedra. Hehad still fifty miles to ride, and after his experience with thefoundered mule he doubted whether one animal would carry him the wholeway. But there was an off chance that another mount might be procurablein case of need, and his mission was urgent. He therefore pushed on,avoiding Medina, and taking a short cut for Carpio. It was four o'clockwhen he reached that town. He halted for half an hour to bait his muleand snatch a meal, then he resumed his journey, and an hour and a halfafter dark he entered the wretched streets of Pedroso. He had riddenbut a few yards into the town when a figure on horseback moved silentlyout from the shadow of a church and stood full across his path. Hepulled up, and then a guttural and husky voice addressed him roughly:

  "Who go zere? Qui va la? Quien vive?"

  Jack laughed quietly.

  "Is the caballero himself the allied army?" he said in his bestCastilian.

  "Donnerwetter noch einmal!" growled the horseman, adding in bad Spanish:"Give the word, and quickly."

  "You have the advantage of me, my good friend," responded Jack inEnglish, "so you had better take me to your captain."

  Jack had now recognized the man by his uniform as a trooper in the 3rdLight Dragoons of the King's German Legion. The dragoon grunted insurprise on hearing English, and, wheeling his horse beside Jack's mule,he laid one hand on his rein, and with the other held his carbine closeto the new-comer's head, and so escorted him to the inn where thecavalry patrol was quartered.

  The officer there seated at ease, a burly moustachioed Hessian, lookedup as the trooper clanked into the room, holding Jack by the sleeve.

  "A stranger, Herr Rittmeister," he said in German, "who cannot or willnot give the countersign."

  "Not such a terrible stranger, Captain Werder," said Jack in English,recognizing the German as the officer through whom he had obtained hishorse in Salamanca. A few words sufficed to explain his presence in suchguise, and half an hour afterwards, mounted on a spare horse luckily athand, he set off on the last eighteen miles that lay between him and hisdestination.

  It was seven o'clock when he reached Salamanca, and, tired as he was,bespattered with mud from head to foot, he proceeded at once to thegeneral's quarters. There he learnt that Sir John was attending areception given by the Marchesa de Almaran, one of the grandes dames ofthe city. Leaving the horse at a neighbouring inn, Jack made his way tothe Marchesa's palace, hoping that the commander-in-chief's explicitinstructions would excuse any want of ceremony there might be in hisaction. He pulled the broad brim of his hat well over his eyes, andturned up the high collar of his coat, passed the English guard ofhonour outside the palace, and, entering at the open door, asked for themajor-domo.

  "General Sir Moore is within?" he said to that functionary when heappeared.

  "He is."

  "Will you tell him that a senor waits below with important news, andbegs an instant audience?"

  The major-domo looked somewhat suspiciously at the dirty, travel-stainedSpaniard before him.

  "The general is in the sala, and there is dancing. I do not know that Ican interrupt him now."

  "If you will kindly give my message, the general will see me," persistedJack.

  "What name shall I tell him?"

  "I do not give my name. Merely say that it is a senor whom he knows."

  The functionary shrugged, and led Jack within the vestibule--a vaultedapartment not unlike the porch of a church, illumined by a single smalllamp. Two or three servants were gathered about a fire.

  "Wait here," said the major-domo, and left the visitor. The servantseyed him for a moment, then resumed their conversation, of which Jackcaught a few words here and there. A messenger from General Castanos--along ride from Saragossa--brave fellow--yes, a true caballero, no otherwould have faced the perils of so long a ride through country infestedby the French--yes, such courage was worthy of a true son of Spain, andfar exceeded anything of which the English were capable. Such were someof the remarks Jack overheard, and he smiled as he remembered that Mr.Vaughan had ridden double the distance, and come through equal perils,arriving earlier after all.

  Some minutes passed, and every now and then, as the sound of guitarsfloated down the broad staircase, Jack envied the good fortune of theofficers who, he did not doubt, were footing it gaily above. Then themajor-domo returned and silently beckoned the visitor to follow him. Heled him upstairs, through a narrow corridor where, on benches of carvedwood or plaited straw, lay a variety of cloaks, hats, and silkenscarves. Pushing open a door, the major-domo preceded him into a widedimly-lighted room. "Remain here; I will fetch the general," he said,and was gone.

  Jack saw that the room was connected by folding-doors, which were nowthrown open, with a large salon lighted by numerous candles. It wascrowded with a brilliant assembly. Along the walls sat many ladies inelegant mantillas, each gracefully wielding the indispensable fan. Amongthem was a sprinkling of priests and sad-eyed students of theuniversity. The centre of the room was occupied by the younger societyof the city--Spanish officers and lawyers, with young ladies in festalarray, engaged in dancing the javaneja to the music of a band ofguitarists stationed at the farther end of the room. It was the firsttime that Jack had seen this characteristically Spanish dance since hehad left Barcelona six years before, and his feet itched to join in it.He watched the couples as they made their graceful rhythmic movements,each holding a coloured kerchief in one hand, the other curved over thehead. It formed an interesting spectacle against the bright backgroundformed by the
red coats of British officers of all ranks, who stoodsilent spectators, each no doubt privately wishing that the unfamiliardance would come to an end, and that an opportunity might be given themof teaching the senoritas the quadrilles which were then all the rage inEngland, or country-dances, in which they were still more at home.Nearly all the men, except those who were dancing, were smokingcigarettes. Every lady, young or old, had a flower in her hair.

  The javaneja at length ceased, and the Spaniards gave place with evidentreluctance to the British officers, who immediately set partners for aquadrille, and began their task of tuition, to the great hilarity of theladies. Jack was becoming impatient. He had not caught sight of SirJohn Moore, and wondered how long he was to be kept waiting in this dimante-chamber. He looked around. There were two or three tables setwith refreshments; but there was no tea, no ices, no punch; nothing buturns of chocolate, small glasses of sugared water, and a plate ofazucarillos.

  Jack wondered how the English section of the company, among whom he hadnow recognized his friends Pomeroy and Smith and several other of hisacquaintance, would be satisfied with this plain and simple fare, sodifferent from that provided at the luxurious entertainments at home.Two or three solemn servants moved quickly about between the rooms,carrying glasses of sugared water to the ladies. As they passed Jackthey eyed him curiously, but with Spanish stolidity made no remarks.Keeping in the shadow, he looked on at the animated throng withever-increasing impatience, wondering whether the major-domo hadforgotten him altogether. By and by he saw Pomeroy lead his partner toa seat, and come towards the ante-room with the manifest intention ofseeking refreshment for her himself. Jack stepped back as Pomeroycrossed from room to room, and the subaltern, throwing a curious glanceat the strange cloaked figure that stood there in the shadow, looked fora moment as though he would like to question his right to be there. Butthe moment passed, and almost immediately afterwards Sir John Mooreemerged from a curtained doorway behind the band, and crossed rapidly towhere Jack stood awaiting him.

  "I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Senor," he said in Spanish, withhis unvarying courtesy, "but I have had to listen for half an hour to acountryman of yours who brought me news which, after all, happened to bea trifle stale. You have an important message for me, I understand?"

  "I am Lumsden of the 95th," said Jack in English, in a low tone whichnone but the general's ear could catch. Sir John started, and glancedkeenly at Jack; then a smile passed over his face.

  "Capital! capital!" he said. "I shouldn't have known you from Adam.Come into the farther corner, away from these noisy dancers, and tell meyour news. You'd rather be kicking your heels among them, eh?" he addedwith a twinkle.

  "Not till you have done with me, sir," replied Jack as he accompaniedthe general out of earshot. There, in a dim corner of the room, he gaveSir John a succinct account of his movements, assuring him that theFrench were beyond doubt making for Madrid, ignorant of, and not evensuspecting, the proximity of the British column at Salamanca.

  "You have come very pat to the occasion," said Moore, who had listenedto Jack's story without interrupting it. "You confirm what I alreadysuspected from a previous messenger. No, not the messenger who camejust now from General Castanos, and whom the good people here havealready elevated into a hero; his news was three days behind time. Butto-day the Spanish generals Bueno and Escalente reached me from theJunta at Madrid, and made a strong, and, I must say, insolent, protestagainst my intended retreat, assuring me that General San Juan, with20,000 men, has fortified the pass of Somosierra and effectually blockedthe way to Madrid, and urging me to march towards him. They would havetalked a cow's hind-leg off, Mr. Lumsden, but I effectually shut themouths of my informants by confronting them with Colonel Graham, who hasjust come in from Talavera, where San Juan is the prisoner of thevillainous runagates from Castanos' beaten army. If the Spaniardsdepend on him to defend the Somosierra pass their hope is a poor one.However, what you tell me proves that the French are not coming towardsme, and for the present at any rate I am perfectly safe here. Now, youhave been so successful that I am going to tax you still further. Youare very tired, no doubt?"

  "A good supper and a night's rest will cure that, sir."

  "Then you'll be prepared to set off again to-morrow?"

  "Certainly. I am very glad to be of use."

  "You have been of the greatest use; I shall act upon your information,and at once. And, by the bye, I must congratulate you on yourmessengers. Your two Spanish lads brought me your messages, and gave megreat hopes that I had not misjudged you--hopes amply justified. I havedespatches to write, so I will take leave of my hostess and accompanyyou to the door."

  In a few minutes Sir John Moore, cloaked and hatted, was striding downthe corridor with Jack by his side. They came to the outer door, whereby the light of a huge torch a tall Spanish officer in brilliant uniformwas taking leave of two ladies with what struck Jack as somewhataffected gallantry. He glanced up as the Englishmen passed, saluted SirJohn Moore with much condescension, and then, as his eye fell on Jack,started with an air of bewilderment. He looked again with still keenerscrutiny at the shorter of the two figures, whom he followed slowly. Atthe porch Sir John bade Jack a cordial good-bye. The latter turned tothe left, towards Don Pedro's house, but had only walked a few yardswhen he felt a touch on his arm. Glancing over his shoulder withoutchecking his pace, he saw that he had been followed by the tall Spaniardwhom he had passed at the door. The next moment a voice that was oddlyfamiliar addressed him in smooth suave tones that struck him with acurious sense of discomfort.

  "Surely the Senor will spare a minute to an old friend."