*CHAPTER XV*
*The Great Retreat*
Reprieve--A Fight in prospect--Trapped--Napoleon leavesSpain--Salvage--The Tragedy of War--In Motley--A Breathing Space--TheSlough of Despond--Motherless--Thalatta!--A Batman's Battle
The growing spirit of indiscipline and lawlessness among the Reservedetermined General Paget to make a signal example of the culprits.Early on the following morning he marched all the five regiments underhis command towards the crown of a low hill overhanging Cacabellos, inthe direction of Bembibre. After sending pickets to the summit, to keepthe enemy under observation, he ordered the whole division to form ahollow square, the men facing inwards. Some distance to the rear ofeach regiment, the officers sat in drumhead court-martial. The mencaught in the act of plundering were brought before them, tried, andsentenced, and then taken into the square, where, lashed to thetriangles, they received the punishment awarded.
During this scene the general sat stern and impassive on his horse. Atone moment a cavalry vedette galloped up with news that the French werein sight. "Very well," replied the general, and the punishment went on.Soon another trooper appeared, to report that the enemy were rapidlyadvancing. "Very well," said the general, without movement or furtherword.
So many were the offenders that the work of flogging continued forseveral hours. At length came the turn of the two soldiers taken in theact of assaulting and robbing the Spaniard. They were summarily tried,and condemned to be hanged. At one corner of the square stood a treewith accessible branches. The unhappy men were conveyed thither, withhalters round their necks. They were hoisted on the shoulders of twostrong Riflemen, and the ropes were fastened to the lower boughs.
It was just twelve o'clock. One movement of the supporting men wouldleave the criminals dangling in the air. The whole division awaited inbreathless stillness the dread signal for execution. General Pagetlooked grimly down from his horse upon the wretched men, and in his setface they saw no hope of mercy. At this tense moment a captain ofdragoons galloped through a gap opened for him in one side of thesquare. Halting before the general, he excitedly reported that thepickets on the hill were being driven in.
"I am sorry for it, sir," said the general coldly; "and I should ratherhave expected the information from a trooper than from you. Go back toyour fighting pickets, sir," he added sternly, "and animate your men toa full discharge of their duties."
The officer retired. General Paget was again silent. His lipstwitched, his eyes flamed. Then suddenly he burst out: "My God! is itnot lamentable to think, that when I might be preparing my troops toreceive the enemies of their country, I am preparing to hang tworobbers! But if at this moment the French horse should penetrate thatangle of the square, I will still execute these villains at this angle."
Again he was silent, and now shots were heard from the direction of thehill. The awed soldiers looked with consternation at their general'sface. How long was this suspense to continue? A brief pause; then,swinging round in the saddle, Paget cried:
"If I spare the lives of these two men, will you promise to reform?"
A quiver passed along the ranks; the men held their breath; there camenot a murmur from their parted lips.
"If I spare the lives of these men," again said the general, "will yougive me your word of honour as soldiers that you will reform?"
Still the same awful silence reigned--and the ominous sound of firingcame nearer and nearer.
"Say 'yes' for God's sake!" whispered an officer to the man next him.
"Yes," murmured the man. His neighbours repeated the word in firmertones, and then, as though a match had been laid to a train of powder,shouts of "Yes! yes!" rang along the faces of the square.
"Cut the ropes!" cried the general. The prisoners were instantlyreleased, the triangles removed. The men cheered, and as the square wasreduced, and formed into columns, the British pickets came slowly overthe brow of the hill, steadily retreating before the advance-guard ofthe enemy. Paget's orders were rapidly given. The men started at thedouble towards the River Cua behind them. Three battalions crossed thebridge and took up their position behind a line of vineyards and stonewalls parallel to the stream. A battery of horse-artillery, escorted bythe 28th, was placed so as to command the road in its ascent towardsCacabellos from the bridge, and a squadron of the 15th Hussars, togetherwith half the 95th Rifles, was left on the Bembibre side of the river tokeep observation on the French.
"At last, my boys!" said Captain O'Hare. The men of his company wereflushed with excitement. At last! The weary waiting of two months wasat an end; the enemy were upon them; and now every man tingled with thejoy of the fight to come, and greedily watched for the foe. Theofficers, looking along their ranks, could not but be struck with thewonderful change. Gone the blank despair, gone the sullen discontent,gone the hang-dog look; every man's face was lit up, every man's eyesflashed, every man stood erect with an air of high-hearted staunchnessthat had not been seen for many a day.
"There they are!" cried Pomeroy, whose keen eyes had descried Colbert'shussars advancing cautiously over the hill-top.
At this moment the bugle sounded for the last companies of the 95th toretire across the bridge and occupy the defensive positions allotted tothem. The men marched with alacrity; it was certain there must be afight now. Jack's was the rearmost company but one. It had only reachedthe middle of the bridge when the 15th Hussars came riding behind in hothaste, and the infantry were in imminent danger of being trampled down.The French were pressing on in such force that the hussars, whollyoutnumbered, had been hurriedly withdrawn. Unsupported, the 95th weretoo weak to withstand a charge of cavalry; they must retire, and therewas no time to lose.
"Hurry your stumps!" shouted a trooper as he passed Wilkes.
"No hurry!" said the corporal coolly, looking over his shoulder.
But behind them Colbert's hussars and chasseurs had swept down on to thebridge and ridden into the rear-most company. Some of the latter werecut down, half were captured, the rest succeeded in gaining the fartherbank, and joined their comrades behind the vineyard walls.
"A close shave, mates!" said Wilkes. "But let 'em come on; we'reready."
General Colbert, a young and gallant officer, and reputed the handsomestman in the French army, had reached the bridge, and saw that the slopeson the other side were held by artillery and what appeared to be a smallinfantry escort. All the regiments but the 28th were by this timeconcealed from view. Burning to distinguish himself, and anxious toemulate the successful charge of Franceschi's dragoons at Mansilla a fewdays before, Colbert did not wait to reconnoitre the position anddiscover the actual strength of his enemy, but ranged his leadingregiment four abreast, and led them straight for the bridge. Paget'sguns played briskly on the French horse until, with the dip in the road,they sank below the line of fire; then the hidden infantry followed upwith steady volleys from the walls and hedges. But the French werebarely within range. The majority of the troopers escaped injury,cleared the bridge, and dashed up the hill, to carry, as they thought,all before them. Then the men of Paget's Reserve showed their mettle.The 28th were drawn across the road; the 52nd and the 95th were out ofsight behind the vineyard walls; and the French horsemen fell into thefatal trap. They suddenly found themselves in the midst of a hail ofbullets from left, and right, and front. For a brief moment theystruggled on; then Tom Plunket, leaping the wall and flinging himselfflat on the slope, fired two marvellous shots which killed Colbert andhis aide-de-camp in succession, whereupon the whole brigade wheeledabout and fled madly back to the bridge, leaving the road strewed withtheir killed and wounded.
Cheer after cheer broke from the ranks of the exultant British infantry.Many of the men wished to leap the walls and pursue the baffled enemy,and had to be pulled back like hounds straining at the leash. Not a manhad been lost since they left the bridge, and Paget's "Well done,Riflemen!" was like wine to their hearts.
>
But the fray was not yet over. Lahoussaye's dragoons swept down to theriver, avoided the fatal bridge, forded the stream at several points,and tried to make their way over the rocky ground and through thevineyards. Finding this impossible, they dismounted and advanced on footin skirmishing order, meeting with a spirited response from the 52nd and95th, whom they first encountered. Then, as the afternoon wore on,Merle's light regiments of the line came into sight, and in columnformation marched forward with loud cries to cross the bridge. For afew moments the 52nd were in danger of being swept upon and overwhelmed,but the six guns from the battery above opened a raking fire on themassed columns of French, and drove them back pell-mell to the otherside. For an hour longer the French sharpshooters kept up a skirmishwith the 95th and 52nd; then, as darkness fell, they recognized thehopelessness of their attack, gave up the contest, and hastened down theslopes to the eastern bank of the Cua.
"By George, this is a change of scene!" said Smith, standing with hisfellow-subalterns around a hastily lit fire. "Won't the Grampus be greenwhen he hears what he has missed? I wonder what the fellow is doing?"
"Offering Napoleon long odds on something or other," said Jack with alaugh.
He had hardly spoken when the command came to form up in marching order.Sir John Moore had ridden back from Villafranca on hearing Paget'scannon, and was delighted to hear of his old friend's success. TheFrench having suffered so decisive a check, he saw that the Reservecould be safely withdrawn under cover of night. The troops set out inbetter spirits than they had known for many a day, tramping cheerilyover the snow-covered road with the comfortable assurance that at lastthey had won the general's approbation and proved themselves men. Theirgaiety was doubled when they learnt from a wounded prisoner on the waythat Napoleon was no longer behind them. He had withdrawn part of hisarmy, leaving Soult and Ney to continue the pursuit. The thought thatthey had baffled the great emperor was delightful to the British troops:they never doubted that Napoleon had seen he was beaten by Johnny Moore,and had run away in sheer petulance and chagrin.
Four miles after leaving the scene of their brilliant rear-guard action,the Reserve arrived at the outskirts of Villafranca. Long before, theyhad noticed a red glow in the sky, which as they approached threw a rosylight upon the banks of dazzling driven snow. As they drew stillnearer, the whole town seemed to be on fire. In every street greatheaps of stores and provisions were burning, and so thoroughly was thework of destruction being carried out that guards had been placed evenround the doomed boxes of biscuit and salt meat. But the temptation wasirresistible to hungry soldiers; many men, as they passed, stuck theirbayonets or pikes into junks of salt pork that were actually on fire,and bore them off in great glee. The men had been marching so steadilythat the officers for the most part winked at this rescue from theflames, Jack remarking to Pomeroy that they'd all be precious glad toget a slice or two of the meat by the time the march was ended.
After leaving Villafranca they passed through the defile of Piedrafitainto still wilder country. Climbing Monte Cebrero and emerging on tothe barren plain of Lugo, the troops reached Herrerias shortly beforedaybreak. They were suffering intensely from fatigue and cold, but theirhalt for food and rest was of the shortest; as soon as day dawned theyhad to set off again. Now that daylight illumined the scene, they sawterrible signs of the misery and disorder into which the constant forcedmarching had thrown the main body. The road was strewn with wreckage ofall kinds--horses were lying dead, wagons lay shattered and abandoned;here was a rusty musket, there a broken sword; worn-out boots,horse-shoes, pots, articles of apparel, dotted the white and ruggedcauseway for miles. Worse than that, human bodies were mingled withthese evidences of woe. At one spot Jack saw a group of redcoatsstretched on the snow. Thinking they were stragglers asleep, he went torouse them. They made no response to voice or touch; in their sleepthey had been frozen to death.
As the day wore on, other incidents added to the general misery. Thehorses of Lord Paget's cavalry were constantly foundering through losingtheir shoes on the stony road. When this happened, the dragoonsdismounted, and led their chargers till the poor beasts could go nofarther. Then, by Lord Paget's orders, they were shot, so that theymight not fall into the hands of the French. Many a rough trooper shedtears as he raised his pistol to the head of the faithful animal whosefriend he was, and as the cracking of the pistols reverberated from therocks, the sounds sent a painful shudder through the ranks of thetrudging infantry.
Hundreds of stragglers from the leading divisions loitered along theroad, causing an exasperating delay to the march of the disciplinedReserve. Among the laggards were not merely the marauders andne'er-do-wells who had cast off all obedience, but veterans who wereovercome by the rigours of the winter cold and the heavy marching ondiminished rations. Every mile brought new horrors. Many sick andwounded were being conveyed in baggage-wagons, which, as the beastsfailed, were abandoned, leaving their human occupants to perish in thesnow. Women and children panted along beside their husbands and fathers,or rode in the few wagons that were left; but many dropped on the roadand died of cold and fatigue. Looking back from a spur of the mountainchain, Jack saw the white road behind covered with dead and dying, ablack spot here, a red spot there, showing where a woman or a soldierlay sleeping the last sleep. The groans of women, the wails of littlechildren, were torture to the ears of the more sympathetic. Sometimes asoldier whose wife had given up the struggle, would fling himself downbeside her, and, cursing the general whose object he so grievouslymisunderstood, remain to die.
Long after dark the Reserve reached Nogales, where they remained for therest of the night. Before dawn, however, news came that the enemy werepursuing close upon them, and as they marched out, the rear companiesbecame hotly engaged with French cavalry. The force hurried on, acrossa many-spanned bridge, up a zigzag road, skirmishing all the way, andhalting at favourable points to tempt the enemy to attack. At one spotthe mountain rose up a sheer wall on the right of the road, and on theleft a deep precipice fell steeply to a valley. Here General Pagetordered the men to face round. The position could not be gained by afrontal assault, and the enemy, waiting for their heavy columns to comeup, sent voltigeurs and some squadrons of cavalry into the valley toattempt a flank attack. But deep drifts of snow having hidden theinequalities in the ground, men and horses tumbled head over heels asthey advanced, and, amid grim cheers from the British troops above, theFrench withdrew discomfited.
Fighting almost every yard of ground, the Reserve continued theirrigorous march towards Lugo. Near Constantino they were amazed to meeta train of fifty bullock-carts crammed with stores and clothing for LaRomana's army. Someone had blundered. The Spaniards were dispersed farand wide, and, but for its being intercepted by the British, the convoymust inevitably have fallen into the hands of the French. Astounded atthis piece of Spanish folly, but rejoiced at the luck which had broughtclothes at such an opportune moment, the soldiers soon stripped thewagons, many a man carrying off several pairs of trousers, and enoughshoes to last a lifetime. Thus, when they were halted for action at thebridge of Constantino, they presented a remarkable appearance. Some woregray trousers, some blue, some white; they were new shod, but with noregard for pairs. Corporal Wilkes, in his haste to replace his ownworn-out boots, had put a black shoe on his right foot and a white oneon his left. But there was no time to attend to niceties of costume,for the enemy kept up an incessant fire all the afternoon, and it wasonly at nightfall that the tired regiments could withdraw from theeastern end of the bridge and resume their march.
At dawn on January 6th they reached the main body, drawn up in battleorder three miles in front of Lugo. The brigade of Guards were in theirshirts and trousers, cooking their breakfast, having hung their tunicsand belts to the branches of trees. As Captain O'Hare's company passedthrough them, one of the officers asked him if he had seen anything ofthe French.
"Bedad, now," exclaimed O'Hare, "you'd better take down your pipe-clayed
belts from those trees, my dear, and put them on, and eat your murphies,if you've got any, as quick as you can, or by the powers those sameFrench will finish 'em before they're cold."
The Guards laughed mockingly; they themselves had not fired a shotduring the whole retreat. But as the 95th marched on they heard Paget'sguns open on the advancing enemy behind, and, turning, they gave theincredulous Guards a derisive cheer.
No sooner had the Reserve reached Lugo than General Paget ordered themen to clean their weapons and polish their accoutrements as thoroughlyas if they were going on parade in the barrack-ground at Colchester.Corporal Wilkes had scarcely uttered a murmur for three days, but thiscommand was too much for him.
"Discipline be hanged!" he growled. "We ain't out for a picnic, norgoin' for a walk in the park, and what's polishin' paste to do withlickin' the French?--that's what I want to know."
But when he had recovered from the first feeling of hardship herecognized that the general's motive was to maintain the excellentdiscipline which had hitherto prevailed in his division; and Wilkes wastoo good a soldier not to do his best, even with the polishing leather.
For three days the army lay at Lugo--three days of incessant rain, whichturned to slush the snow on the hills, and proved more trying to thespirits and tempers of the men than the frost had been. There werelarge stores at Lugo, and Sir John Moore judged it wise, after theexhausting forced marches of the past weeks, to allow the men a goodspell of rest and plentiful supplies of fresh food. His position wasvery strong, and he hoped to tempt Soult to a fight, being assured thatthe troops would pull themselves together and give a good account of theenemy. But Soult was too wary to attack until he had overwhelmingnumbers at his disposal. His own force had suffered almost as severelyas Moore's, and some of his divisions were still toiling on far in hisrear. After a few attempts to feel the British position he made nofurther movement, and Moore waited and fretted in vain. He would notrisk an offensive movement himself. He had no hospitals, few wagons, noreserve of food or ammunition; delay would weaken him and strengthenSoult. There was no alternative but to continue the retreat. The routeto Vigo was definitively abandoned; orders were issued for the wholearmy to slip out of its lines on the night of the 8th, leaving thecamp-fires burning so as to deceive the enemy, and to make for thedirect road to Corunna, to which harbour the transports had already beencommanded to sail round the coast. As soon as darkness fell all thefoundered horses were shot, and such provisions, stores, and ammunitionas were not required were destroyed. At half-past nine the firstcompanies moved off, and by midnight the whole position was evacuated.
This was the beginning of the last stage of the army's demoralization.The frost of the previous week had quite broken up; a pelting storm ofsleet and rain assailed the troops as they marched. In the inkydarkness many of the guides missed their way amid the labyrinth ofvineyards, orchards, and intersecting paths. Regiment after regimentwent hopelessly astray, and when General Paget's reserve divisionreached the appointed spot on the Corunna road, it proved to be not inthe rear but actually in advance of the main body. In thesecircumstances Paget moved his troops slowly, knowing that if the enemyovertook the less trustworthy regiments behind him the whole force wouldrun the risk of being annihilated.
Through the black and rainy night, then, the men marched, halting atintervals. No man was allowed to leave the ranks; all were filled withapprehension of what might befall. On the morning of next day thebelated divisions of the main body began to appear, and the Reservethankfully resumed its proper position of rear-guard.
A terrible lack of discipline prevailed in all but a few of theregiments of the main body. Drenched by the incessant rain, the mensought shelter in cottages and outlying hovels whenever they werehalted, with the result that when the order for marching was given vastnumbers could not be found and had to be left behind. All day and allnight the Reserve was harassed by the necessity of beating up theseloiterers, until officers and men alike were almost overwhelmed withdespair.
The experiences of that fearful 9th of January haunted the memories ofJack and his friends for years afterwards. From cheerless dawn tocheerless eve their eyes were shocked, their hearts were riven, bymisery almost passing belief. For mile after mile of that bleakdesolate country, a land of bluff and spur, torrent and ravine, men felldown upon the road, groaning, weeping, dying of weariness and diseaseaggravated by the bitterness of shame and despair. Mules and oxen lay asthey fell, and in the wagons they had drawn, husbandless women andfatherless children wailed and moaned, a prey to hunger and exhaustion.Many a time Jack stuffed his fingers into his ears to keep out theintolerable sounds, until the very frequency of them made him almostcallous, and he tramped along with haggard face and the same sense ofdreary hopelessness. Smith was bent almost double with illness, Pomeroyand Shirley were so utterly weary and dispirited that they dragged theirfeet like old peasants racked with the ague of the fields. EvenPepito's vivacity had vanished; for the greater part of every day herode on a gun-carriage, a silent image of depression.
As the 95th halted for a brief spell at a hamlet, Corporal Wilkes, histanned, weather-beaten cheeks drawn and pinched, came up to his captainand said:
"Sir, Sergeant Jones's wife is dead."
"God help the poor fellow!" said Captain O'Hare; "what'll he do now withthose two little children? How are they?"
"Well, sir, and cosy; that good woman gave her life for them. Thesergeant's crazy, sir, and the wagon's come to grief that they wereriding in. I thought, sir--"
"Well?"
"I wouldn't like to leave 'em behind, sir, and the sergeant's as weak asa rat and can hardly trail his pike. Couldn't I carry one, sir?"
"Sure an' you can. Take turns with another man. And the other one--thepoor little colleen--"
"Pomeroy and I will look after her," said Jack. "It'll give ussomething to think about. We'll either carry her by turns or get someof our best men to do it."
And so it happened that for the rest of the retreat two little children,a boy and a girl, rode along in the rain on the shoulders oftender-hearted Riflemen, who talked to them and cheered them, so thatthe small things, all unconscious of their irreparable loss, prattledand laughed and felt exceedingly proud of their unusual altitude.
It is the morning of January 10th; the regiments are climbing the faceof a range of hills, the last, they have been told, that intervenebetween them and the harbour of Corunna. The rain has ceased, the skyclears, and as the drenched and footsore warriors top the crest the sunbursts through a lingering cloud and throws its low beams from behindthem.
"The sea! the sea!"
A great shout reverberates over the rugged hills. Below lies the littletown of Betanzos, and beyond it the blue white-crested waters of theAtlantic. Corunna is only a few miles distant; the end of the longagony is in sight; and the sudden coming of weather springlike in itsmildness after the severity of winter, fills all hearts with unutterablegladness. Colonel Beckwith roars at his men with a gruffness whichnobody mistakes, and the fierce tension of General Paget's face isrelaxed for the first time for many days.
"The finest retreat that was ever retreated," cries Captain O'Hare, who,though he looks only the shadow of his former self, has suddenlyrecovered his usual cheerfulness. "But what's afoot down yonder,begorra?"
All eyes follow his gaze downhill. They light on a curious spectacle.In the distance the road is dark with French cavalry, their helmets andaccoutrements flashing in the unwonted sunlight. Between them and theheights there marches a nondescript horde of stragglers, in alluniforms, from all regiments. But they are no longer straggling.Formed in a solid mass across the road, they are retiring by alternatecompanies, one company remaining to face the French, another marchingalong the road until they reach a position whence they can cover thefirst's subsequent retreat. Time after time Franceschi's horsemencharge; but every charge is beaten back by the rolling fire of theBritish, who fight and retire, retire and fight, with equal steadin
ess.
"Bedad, now, that's fine!" cries Captain O'Hare enthusiastically."That's the greatness of the British Arrmy! Three cheers for thefighting stragglers, my boys!"
Cheer upon cheer roll down towards the baulked and angry French. Stageby stage the army of stragglers retire up the slope until they are safewithin the protecting lines of the Reserve. There the curious incidentis explained. Dr. Dacres of the 28th had entrusted his instruments andbaggage to the care of a batman, who had loaded his mule's panniers soheavily that the animal had fallen far behind the regiment. During thenight the man slept in a cottage by the roadside, and, rising beforedawn, was astounded to find that the French were almost withinarm's-length. Shouting to the numerous stragglers in the vicinity, thebatman, relishing a little brief authority, got them into some sort oforder and began to fight a rear-guard action on his own account. Asergeant of the 43rd, seeing what was in the wind, hurried up andassumed command of the growing companies. It was by the skilful handlingof this man, William Newman by name, that the impromptu rear-guard hadheld their own against the enemy's cavalry and been brought safely outof danger.
The army remained for a whole day at Betanzos. On the 11th they marchedout towards Corunna, the Reserve being hotly engaged with the enemy'scavalry, and disputing the last ten miles yard by yard, under theapproving eye of Sir John Moore himself. Two bridges were blown up. Onthe 13th Franceschi's dragoons discovered a ford, and Sir John, seeingthat his main body was now secure, ordered the Reserve to fall back onCorunna. The regiments had hardly left their bivouac when shots fromthe French artillery came with a crash on to the roofs of the housesthey had occupied near the bridge.
It was with this thundering adieu reverberating in their ears that thegallant 95th, along with their equally gallant comrades in arms, marchedinto their new quarters at Eiris, above Corunna, and attained, aftermuch travail, their long-desired haven.
Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular War Page 18
