*CHAPTER XIII*
*Don Miguel's Man*
Fine Feathers--A Fight by the River--Lax Discipline--Scenes atAstorga--A Cry for Help--The One-eyed Man--At Bay--A Warm Corner--Wilkesto the Rescue--Miguel Explains--Righteous Indignation--Wilkes's Supper
Captain O'Hare's eyes were twinkling as he watched the aggrieved exit ofthe two soldiers, and when they had gone he joined in Jack's shout oflaughter.
"Ah! 'tis all very well for you to laugh at Corporal Wilkes; but faith,my boy, we'll have to court-martial you for deserting his Majesty'sstores, to say nothing of my best pair of galligaskins. Begorra, let'shope they won't fit the spalpeen of a Frenchman who gets them. Thewhole mess is rejuced to one suit."
Then, changing his tone, the captain proceeded to inform Jack of whathad happened since his arrival at Benavente. The inhabitants of thetown had received the British army with an attitude of sullen dislikeand even animosity. Relying for their rations on what could be obtainedduring the march, the troops had come into the place tired and hungry,to find the doors barred and food withheld. The shops were all closed,the magistrates had taken flight, and although the British were preparedto pay for supplies, neither bread nor wine was to be had. The men werealready embittered by the hardships of their long march, anddisappointed of their hopes of meeting the French in fair fight, and itwas small wonder that coldness where they might well have looked forwarmth, and aversion where they might have claimed active friendship,provoked resentment and reprisal. They were received as enemies; theycould scarcely be expected to act as friends.
"Indade, the whole army's going to the dogs," said Captain O'Haredejectedly; "all except the Gyards and the Reserve. Things are as badas they can be, and there's worse to come. The main body's looting, andbehaving worse than Pagans and Turks. They should be at Astorga by now,and we're to follow them in an hour or so. The company's falling in,and you'd better hurry up, or you run a risk of finding an escort likeour friend Wilkes. And bedad," he added, as the dull sound of firingwas heard in the direction of the river, "there's the music again."
Jack had by this time finished his breakfast, and, hurrying out with thecaptain, he found the 95th preparing to move off.
"Hullo!" cried Smith, "you've turned up, then! What have you done withthe wagon?"
"Where are my boots?" asked Pomeroy.
"And my best frilled shirt, the one with the ruffles?" continued Smith.
"And my new highlows, the ones with the silver buckles?" added Pomeroy.
"They are coming after us," returned Jack. "If you care to wait they'llprobably be here in half an hour--and Colbert's dragoons inside them."
As the regiment moved off, the firing behind them became more and moredistinct and continuous. Bodies of mounted troops could be seen on thehorizon; a smart cavalry action was apparently being fought, and the menof the 95th were again jealous of what they considered the better luckof the cavalry. But Jack's company, marching away at the quick step,was soon beyond sight of the combatants, though for an hour afterwardsthe boom of guns could be plainly heard.
Lord Paget was fighting one of those brilliant little rear-guard actionsthat stamped him in an age of great soldiers as one of the finestcavalry leaders of his time. At Benavente he had to deal, not with theruck of Napoleon's cavalry, who, be it said to their credit, were neverwanting in dash, but with the flower of the emperor's troops, the famousCavalry of the Guard, led in person by Lefebvre-Desnouettes, hisfavourite general, who had been until now the spoiled child of fortune.When Lefebvre-Desnouettes discovered that the bridge across the Esla wasbroken beyond possibility of immediate repair, he rode fuming up anddown the river, vainly seeking a practicable ford for the large body ofinfantry that had now gathered on the banks. On the farther side was athin chain of British vedettes; beyond these, as far as the eye couldreach across the great plain, there was no sign of Sir John Moore's armyexcept a few belated camp-followers hurrying into Benavente. The Frenchgeneral, chafing with impatience, at last flung prudence to the windsand decided to follow up the pursuit with his cavalry alone, leaving theinfantry to follow as soon as the bridge could be patched up. Fordingthe swollen river with 600 chasseurs of the Guard at a spot somedistance above the ruined arches, he drove back the vedettes in hisfront and pushed rapidly across the plain in the direction of Benavente.Meanwhile the news of the crossing had brought the British vedettes atfull gallop from their posts opposite the fords below and above thebridge; and when a few score had collected they made a plucky charge atthe head of the French column, and in spite of their small numbers threwit into disorder. The discomfited chasseurs, supported by thesucceeding squadrons, rallied and pursued the audacious little band; butthey were again broken by a second charge, led in person by GeneralStewart, who had come up with a few reinforcements. The Britishtroopers broke clean through the first line, and although they narrowlyescaped being cut off by the main body, they hewed their way out againand retired in good order towards Benavente. They were only twohundred, the French were three times their number, andLefebvre-Desnouettes, irritated by these checks, incautiously pressedthem into the outskirts of the town. There Lord Paget, with the 10thHussars, lay grimly in waiting. Forming up his men under cover of somebuildings, he held them, straining at the leash, until the chasseurswere well within striking distance, then he let them loose, and thehussars, instantly joined by Stewart's pickets, rode at the enemy at aheadlong, irresistible gallop. The leading squadrons of chasseurs wentdown like ninepins; the rest wheeled about, galloped back to the Esla,and did not draw rein until they were safe on the French side of thestream. Lefebvre-Desnouettes himself rode his horse at the river, butthe animal had received a wound and refused to face the water. Whilestill floundering at the brink, it was seized by an enterprising Britishtrooper; the general was captured with seventy of his men, and Napoleonwas left chafing at the first decisive check he had personally met within Spain.
Meanwhile there was growing dissatisfaction in the ranks of the Britishinfantry, and even among the officers. It had been stated, with someshow of authority, that Moore intended to make a stand at Astorga, butno one believed it; a similar statement had been made so many timesbefore, always to be falsified. Some of the more clear-headed among therank and file endeavoured to prove to their discontented comrades thatthe retreat was inevitable; Moore was no coward, and only the knowledgethat he was overwhelmingly outmatched would have induced him to retirewithout giving battle. He had nothing personally to gain by runningaway; his military reputation was at stake, and he had further the dutyof showing that Britain honourably stood by her pledges to Spain. Itwas a bitter disappointment to him, and nothing but a strong sense ofresponsibility had actuated his decision to march to the sea.
Unhappily a retreating army is always prone to get out of hand. Alreadymarauding had taken place at various stages of the march, and the sullenincivility of the Spaniards provoked ill-tempered words and deeds on thepart of the British. The road was encumbered with stragglers, as wellas with numbers of women and children, who suffered from the inevitablehardships of a march through wild country in mid-winter. The confusionand disorder were only increased when the troops reached Astorga. Therethey met the ragged Spanish regiments of the Marquis of La Romana, who,in spite of Moore's repeated requests that he would retreat northwardsinto the Asturias, had marched westward into Galicia, giving as hisreason that the only available pass into the former province was blockedwith snow. In retreating before Soult his rear-guard had been cut topieces by Franceschi's dragoons at the bridge of Mansilla, where therehad been every opportunity of making a stubborn resistance. Theyarrived at Astorga in a state of panic, more like a crowd of peasantsdriven from their homes than a regular army. They were half-naked, andhalf-starved; many were suffering from a malignant fever, and they weremaddened by cold, disease, and want. Learning that large supplies offood lay at Astorga, as well as stores of shoes, blankets, and muskets,they prow
led through the town, seizing whatever they could lay hands on,setting an example which too many of the British soldiers showedthemselves ready to follow.
When, on the evening of December 30th, Jack's company marched intoAstorga, they found disorder reigning everywhere within its ancientturreted walls. Several houses were on fire, men were plundering onevery side, all kinds of objects were littering the streets. Threedivisions of Moore's army had already left the town on the way toVillafranca, and the only British troops now quartered there were theReserve under General Paget and the two light brigades. These had keptbetter discipline than most of the regiments which had preceded them,and the signs of havoc provoked a great burst of indignation from therear companies of the 95th as they swung round into the great square.Corporal Wilkes was especially voluble in denunciation of the baddiscipline among the Spaniards. He was expressing himself warmly toBates as they kept step together, when the sight of a tall Spanishsoldier in somewhat better trim than the tatterdemalion rank and file ofLa Romana's forces added fuel to his wrath. The men were standing nearthe lighted door of the Town Hall, where Jack's company was to bequartered, and the Spaniard looked with a cynical smile at the Riflemendefiling past. He had a villainous countenance, its forbidding aspectenhanced by the fact that he had only one eye, which was gazing at themen with a fixed, stony, unwinking stare.
"What's that one-eyed villain of a Don doing there?" growled Wilkes,staring into the solitary eye as he passed. "Why ain't he keeping hismen in order, instead of loafing about like a London whitewasher out o'work?"
Jack heard the remark, and turned to look at the one-eyed man; but ascuffle between a man of the 28th and a squalid Spaniard drew off hisattention for a moment, and when the quarrel was ended by theEnglishman's fist, the man had disappeared.
After the men had been safely got to quarters Jack was sitting in theroom he was to share with Pomeroy and Shirley when he was summoned tothe Casa Morena. He there found Colonel Beckwith vigorously haranguing aSpanish officer, and was called on to act as interpreter. Beckwith wasinsisting in no measured terms that the officer should make some attemptto check the disorder among his men, and Jack did his best to soften thecolonel's language without depriving it of its authority. At the closeof the interview, about eight o'clock at night, he was returning to hisquarters when he fancied he heard a cry proceeding from a large housethat stood alone, and by its size seemed to belong to a person of someimportance. He stopped and listened; the cry was not repeated; he waspassing on, when out of the darkness a little boy ran up, seized hishand, and began to pull him towards the house.
"Senor! Senor!" he cried in a terrified wail, "my father--he is beingmurdered. He is an old man; he cannot fight. Come, Senor, and savehim!"
Jack had broken from the boy's clutch and was already making with longstrides to the front door. It was firmly barred and unyielding to hispressure.
"Not that way, not that way, Senor!" cried the boy, and seizing Jack'shand again, he led him to the back, through a narrow enclosure, to aflight of stone steps, at the head of which was a French window with oneof its halves open inwards, and a dim light shining through. Runningwith the boy up the steps, Jack found himself in what was evidently thesala of the house. It was in darkness, but a door at the far end givingon to a corridor was open, and a dim light filtered into the room from alamp, consisting of a shallow bowl in which a wick was floating on oil.Treading very warily, the two crossed the room to the corridor beyond;at the end of the passage a brighter light was streaming from ahalf-open door, and Jack, alert to catch the slightest sound, heard arasping voice say in Spanish:
"Now, you old dotard, I will give you one minute by yonder clock. Afterthat the knife, and I will search for myself."
Pushing the boy behind him, and signing to him to be quiet, Jack creptcautiously to the door and peeped into the room. Tied to a chair, witha rope cut from the bell-pull, was an old gentleman, very frail andthin, with sparse gray hair and beard. On the table before him a longknife, driven into the wood, rocked to and fro with diminishingoscillation; an angular man in Spanish uniform, his back half-turned tothe door, occupied a chair within a couple of feet of the victim, and,leaning forward, elbows upon his knees, gazed with a vengeful smile intothe old man's face. At the side of the room a large escritoire layopen, its contents thrown pell-mell upon the floor.
The old Spaniard, bound and helpless as he was, looked steadily withunflinching gaze into the face of his enemy.
"Do you think for a moment, wretch that you are," he said with quietscorn, his tone strangely contrasting with the fury of the other, "doyou think for a moment that you will cajole me with empty promises, orscare me with insolent threats? I expect no mercy from you--you werealways a villain,--but I can at least baulk your greed. I am an old man,do your worst; your knife has no terrors for me."
The man, springing to his feet, snatched the knife from the table, andlifted his hand to strike; but Jack had already sprung into the room.The sound of Jack's step arrested the villain's movement; he half-turnedto meet the intruder, disclosing as he did so the distorted features ofa man with one eye. Even at that tense moment Jack connected himvaguely in thought with some previous experience, but there was no pausein his action. Before the man had time to wheel completely round, Jackstruck him a blow on the chin that felled him to the floor, where he laystunned and motionless. The boy threw himself on the fallen man with acry of triumph, snatched up the knife that had dropped from his grasp,and with two quick strokes severed the cords that bound the old man.Then in a paroxysm of fury he turned to drive the weapon into thewould-be assassin's heart. Jack stayed his hand, and at the same momentheard the sound of trampling feet, and a familiar voice exclaiming:
"This way, my men; we shall find the English bandit here."
Jack makes an Opportune Appearance]
"Miguel!" said Jack under his breath, remembering in a flash theone-eyed servant he had seen following him in Salamanca. Turningquickly to the old gentleman, who now stood in seeming uncertainty whatthe new interruption might portend, he pointed to the prostrate man andsaid:
"It is this man's master."
Then, as there was obviously no time to parley, he rushed to the doorand slammed it, intending to turn the key. The key was not in the lock.Pressing his knee against the door, Jack looked round and saw themissing key on the table. He called to the boy to bring it, but he wastoo late. The door was pressed inwards in spite of Jack's exertions;there was greater force on the other side. Feeling it opening inch byinch Jack turned on his shoulder, set his back against the oak, and drewhis sword, preparing to give way suddenly and attack the enemy beforethey could recover from their sudden inrush. But the boy, with a quickwit that did him credit, had rushed into the corner of the room, wherethere was a space of some two feet between the jamb and the wall, andthere, crouching on the floor, he jabbed with the knife through theslowly widening aperture at the legs of the nearest figure. There was ayell of pain; the pressure on the door instantly relaxed; and Jack,putting forth all his strength, had almost succeeded in closing it whena musket was thrust into the gap. Jack's muscles were strained to theutmost. From the clamour in the corridor he knew that the enemy werepreparing for a concerted rush. He called to the old Spaniard to pushthe table against the door, but before that could be done he feltoverpowering pressure on the other side. Hastily forming hisresolution, he sprang back suddenly; the door flew open, and three of LaRomana's ragged ruffians fell sprawling upon the floor. Others camebehind, and one of them, with his heavy flintlock, struck out of Jack'shand the sword he had drawn, dropping his weapon immediately with a yellas he felt the boy's knife in his leg. Jack saw that the old Spaniardhad taken down one of two rapiers that hung on the wall beneath theportrait of an ancient caballero. Exerting all his strength, he draggedthe table round so that it stood obliquely across the room, cutting offa triangular corner. Then he seized the second rapier, and stood sideby side with the Spaniard, behind the table, facing their
foes just asseveral of them were preparing to leap across it.
Among them Jack now recognized Miguel Priego, his face lit up withsavage excitement, flourishing his sword and goading on his desperadoes.The boy had crawled beneath the table, prepared to use his terribleknife on all who came within reach. The one-eyed man had recovered fromthe blow dealt him by Jack, and had snatched a musket from one of hisfellows. Fortunately none of the firearms were loaded, and theSpaniards, mad with rage, grudged the delay necessary to charge theircumbrous weapons.
"I think, Miguel, you had better call off your followers," said Jack, ina momentary lull that preceded the rush.
There was no reply; in point of fact Jack scarcely expected one. Miguelwas at the moment out of sight behind a burly mountaineer, and Jack feltrather by instinct than by any reasoned process of thought that theSpaniard would scarcely let slip this opportunity of taking him at adisadvantage. Behind the table Jack measured the forces opposed to him.Six men were gathering themselves for the onslaught--lean, half-starvedwretches for the most part, but ugly customers in the bulk. A raw-bonedmountaineer, armed with a long musket and a rusty bayonet, was the mostformidable among the gang, and Jack marked him out for special attentionwhen the critical moment came. It was not long in coming. At the cryfrom Miguel: "Down with the English dog!" the six made a simultaneousrush, and if they had not impeded one another's movements they must havemade short work of the little garrison. The lanky Asturian lungedviciously at Jack, who dodged the point by a hair's-breadth, narrowlyescaping, as he did so, the clubbed musket of another Spaniard on theright. Before the mountaineer could recover, Jack's long rapier,stretching far across the table, had ploughed a gash in his arm fromwrist to elbow, and at the same moment the second assailant, howlingwith pain, had dropped his musket and fallen to the ground a victim tothe terrible knife of the little Spaniard, who had been forgotten by theenemy in the excitement of the fight.
The old man, however, had been less successful; one of his opponents hadfelt the point of his rapier, but, attacked simultaneously by another,his weapon had been dashed from his grasp, and he now stood defencelessagainst the foe, who were beginning to push the table into the corner ofthe room. Miguel, having left the brunt of the action to his allies,now advanced resolutely to the attack; and Jack's rapier had crossedwith the long sword carried by his opponent, when through the open doorsounded the heavy tramp of feet; and a loud voice was heard shouting:"What I want to know--" The sentence was never completed, for CorporalWilkes sprang into the room, cleaving a way through the maddenedSpaniards with his fist. Before they realized the meaning of thisunlooked-for interruption, the corporal flung himself on Miguel, caughthim by the collar, and hurled him upon two of his men, who fell underhim with a resounding thud. Immediately behind Wilkes, Bates and twoother men of the 95th had dashed in, and the rear of the unexpectedreinforcement was brought up by Pepito, who at once engaged in a tusslewith the Spanish boy, now upon his feet, for the possession of theknife.
Wilkes stood with clenched fists over Miguel, while his companions ofthe 95th threw themselves on the other Spaniards and speedily disarmedthem.
"You hound of a Don!" cried Wilkes, preparing to knock Miguel down if heshould attempt to rise; "what I want to--"
"Wilkes, let him get up," said Jack quietly, coming round the table, therapier still in his hand.
Miguel rose stiffly, his face expressing the purest amazement.
"Verdaderamente!" he exclaimed. "If it is not my dear friend Jack!There is some strange mistake. And I did not recognize you in youruniform, Jackino! Last time I saw you, you remember, you were dressedas one of ourselves. Truly, dress makes a world of difference, amigomio."
His tone had all the oily suavity that Jack knew so well, and socordially detested. Wilkes was looking from one to the other withconcentrated interrogation in his eye, ready at a word from Jack to laythe Spaniard low again.
"Shut the door, Bates," said Jack, as he saw the one-eyed man slinkingin that direction. "That's your man, I think?" he added, addressingMiguel.
"My servant, who accompanied me from Saragossa," replied Miguel. "And Iam at a loss to understand--"
"So am I," interrupted Jack. "I am at a loss to understand why a man inyour position should countenance violence, robbery, almost actualmurder."
"Robbery! Murder! Really, my dear friend, these are strange words tome. I was in the street, and one of these men--soldiers in the army ofthe Marquis of La Romana--told me that an English ruffian--it was amistake, yes, but he said an English ruffian--had forced himself intothis house: for what purpose? It could only be, as you say, to rob ormurder. You know what sad excesses your troops, usually so excellentlydisciplined, have been guilty of; and having but a short time ago heardthat your colonel--Beckwith, is that his name?--had sternly ordered hismen to refrain from acts of pillage, why, my dear friend, was it notnatural for me to come in and do what little I could to prevent suchadmirable orders from being disobeyed? That explains--"
"Oh!" said Jack. "And your man--was that his errand too?"
"Perez? Oh no! He obtained my permission to visit his old master, thefaithful fellow. It was inconvenient, for we should now be on the road;but could I--would you?--hesitate in such a case? I was touched by thepoor fellow's devotion."
Perez' solitary eye gleamed with a baleful light singularly out ofkeeping with the sentimental character thrust upon him by his master.He wriggled venomously in Bates's grasp. The burly Rifleman checked hiscontortions by impressing his knuckles into the nape of his neck.
Jack turned to the old man, who had watched the scene in dignifiedsilence.
"I think, Senor, you can throw some light on this man's devotion."
The Spaniard, in a few quiet words, told Jack that the man had, in fact,been his servant, but had been dismissed two years before for attemptedrobbery. He had suddenly made his appearance that evening, taken hisold master unawares, and when he had bound him had broken open thebureau containing, as he supposed, the valuables he coveted, and,failing to find them, had demanded the secret of their hiding-placeunder threat of assassination.
"I owe my life," he concluded, "the little that remains of it, to my sonhere, who providentially overheard from his bedroom above the threats ofthis wretch, and to you, Senor, whose chivalrous intervention came at amoment when I regarded my case as hopeless. I thank you!"
"This, Senor," said Miguel, turning to the old man, "is to me a mostextraordinary, a most painful, discovery. The man was recommended to meby Senor Alvarez, my father's partner"--Miguel's fluency in his presentpredicament recalled to Jack's memory many of his youthful essays inmendacity. "It only shows, Senor, how sadly one may be deceived by aspecious exterior."
As he spoke he regarded his one-eyed follower with a look of mournfuldisappointment.
If Perez' exterior at this moment was any index to his quality, he wasscarcely a man in whom the most credulous would have placed confidence.In Bates's iron grip his body was quiescent; but the malignant glitterof his single eye told of raging fires within.
"It will be my duty," continued Miguel with increasing sternness, "tobring this wretch to justice. Men, seize him, and see that he does notescape. He shall be dealt with by the marquis himself."
The Spanish soldiers advanced to carry out Miguel's order, but Batesmerely tightened his grip and looked enquiringly at Jack forinstructions. Jack could not but admire Miguel's astuteness. He wasperfectly well aware that the man would be released as soon as he wasout of reach; but while loth to let him escape scot-free, he saw howpowerless he was in the face of Miguel's declaration. It was a matterfor the Spanish authorities, in which, except as a witness, he himselfhad no concern; and it was nothing to the point that the Spanishauthorities were hiding in cellars, lofts, and even, as he had heard, inpig-styes. He turned to the old man, and said:
"I fear, Senor, that, as things are, we have no choice but to returnthis man to the care of his present--master. Bates," he added inEnglis
h, "let him go."
In apparent abstraction, Bates gave a farewell twist to the Spaniard'sneck-band, shot him among the knot of tattered soldiery in the doorway,drew himself up, and saluted. With a ceremonious bow Miguel followedhis men from the room, several of them carrying with them painfulmementoes of the affray. Wilkes shadowed them to the end of thecorridor. Meanwhile the venerable Spaniard had taken a decanter andseveral glasses from a press in the corner of the room.
"You will permit me, Senor," he said to Jack, "my servant havingdeserted me, to offer you and your worthy soldiers a little refreshment.It is a poor expression of my gratitude to you and them, but it comes,believe me, from a full heart."
The men willingly tossed off their bumpers, and soon afterwards escortedJack to his quarters. He there learnt from them that while at supperthey had been summoned by Pepito, who announced in broken English, ekedout by gestures, that el Senor Lumsden was in urgent need of help. Hehad apparently been shadowing Jack as usual, had seen him enter thehouse, and a moment after heard Miguel hounding on his willing dupes tokill the English bandit.
"The little rascal is always putting me in his debt," said Jack tohimself as the squad saluted and marched off. "He is quite a guardianangel."
No one but Jack had cause to regard Pepito in this gracious light.
"What I want to know," asked Corporal Wilkes wrathfully, when hereturned to his billet "--what I want to know is, what's become of mysupper?"
Only Pepito knew.
Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular War Page 16
