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

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER XIX*

  *Palafox the Man*

  Night on the Ebro--Across the Boom--Heroines of the Siege--TheCaptain-General--An Interview--A Missing Letter--War to the Knife--AnInterruption--Santiago Sass--First Impressions

  So exciting an incident immediately on his entrance into Saragossa hadengrossed Jack's attention so thoroughly as to drive from his mind thematter which, until he turned the corner of the Casa Ximenez, had beengiving him much concern. Where was Pepito? That mischievous but usefulelf had been the life and soul of the sailors during their rapid voyagefrom Seville to the mouth of the Ebro. When they disembarked at Tortosahe had managed with great cleverness the hiring of horses on which tocontinue the journey overland, and had ridden with Jack across countryuntil they reached the village of Mediana, some fifteen miles fromSaragossa. There Jack learnt that Saragossa was closely invested on allsides by the French, and in particular that the Monte Torrero, aneminence on the south-west of the city, was in the hands of the enemy,who had made it the base of most vigorous and sustained operations.

  It was clearly impossible to penetrate the French lines and enter thecity on foot or horseback; the only other means was the river. Jackmade anxious enquiry as to the chances of finding the waterway open. Helearnt that in the early days of the siege several boats had eluded thevigilance of the French and come down the river, and that, only afortnight before, Francisco Palafox, the brother of the captain-generalin command, had escaped under cover of night and was now at large,endeavouring to raise a relief force. But the peasants of Mediana knewof no case of a boat going up-stream and passing the French batteriessince Colonel Doyle had sent a number of new muskets into the city theday before the strict investment began. Further, in addition to abridge of boats near the confluence of the tributary Huerba with themain stream, a boom had been thrown across the river a few hundred yardsbelow this point, and it seemed most unlikely that now, in the seventhweek of the siege, the French sentries would have so far relaxed theirwatchfulness as to allow the boom to be crossed or broken.

  This was bad news, and Jack, for the moment, felt baffled. Hediscovered, however, that at this time of year Saragossa and theneighbouring district were covered at early morning with a thick mistfrom the river and the low-lying banks, and he felt that if he couldtake advantage of this fact he might slip into the city despite all theenemy's vigilance. At any rate he determined to make the attempt. Abargain was soon struck at a riverside village for the loan of a boat.The oars were carefully muffled, and after dark, on the night of January31st, Jack started with high hope on the last stage of his long journey.

  All went well. It was a pitch-dark night, and the strain of rowing aheavy craft against the stream necessitated frequent pulls-in to thebank for rest. But steady progress was made mile by mile, until, aboutfive o'clock in the morning, sounds ahead indicated that the boat wasdrawing very near to the French encampments.

  Every stroke of the oars was now made with infinite precaution, and theboat crawled along at a snail's pace. Pepito, in the bow, leant over towatch for the boom which blocked the waterway, and many times dipped hishands into the icy-cold water so that touch might not fail where sightwas impossible. The air was raw and chilly, and Jack was delighted tolearn, from his sensations in throat and eyes, that the mist of whichhis informant had spoken was an actuality.

  It was drawing towards dawn. The darkness was yielding to a faintluminance that was not yet light, when suddenly, a few moments afterPepito had withdrawn his numbed hand from the water, the boat was pulledup with a jolt, and a harsh prolonged creak testified that its nose hadcome at last into contact with the boom--a heavy chain drawn across theriver from bank to bank. Instantly there was a cry from the bank ontheir right: "Qui va la?" At that same moment, without the leasthesitation, Pepito slipped noiselessly over the side of the boat intothe water, caught the chain with one hand, and endeavoured to pull itdown, whispering to his master to row over. But his puny strength was,of course, unavailing, and he crept back shivering into the bows. Jack,however, had at once divined the only possible solution of the problem.So heavy a chain must undoubtedly sag towards the middle of the stream.Was the middle to his right hand or his left? He pulled the boatsideways against the obstruction, and told Pepito to slip overboard andwalk along the chain while he himself gently paddled. At a guess hemoved to the right, and was soon gratified by Pepito's whisperedannouncement that the chain seemed to be sinking. When the waterreached the boy's middle, Jack gently brought the boat's head to thestream, and with two vigorous strokes drove the unwieldy vessel acrossthe boom. The boat's bottom scraped the massive links as it crossed;Pepito clambered in rather too hastily and slipped; the sounds caughtthe ears of the sentry on the bank, and another cry of "Qui va la?"penetrated the mist, followed by a shot. More voices were heard; moreshots; and then from a point behind came the sound of a boat being rundown the bank. Jack now plied his oars with might and main; cries,followed by shots, rang out from the other bank, and then, ahead andapproaching him, he heard the straining of oars against rowlocks. Therewas no time for hesitation. Pulling hard on the left oar he headed forthe bank, taking his chance, and in a few seconds grounded with a shock.In an instant he was out of the boat, and, followed closely by Pepito,started at a quick walk through the clinging fog in what he guessed mustbe the direction of the city.

  They had not walked fifty yards when a terrific explosion rent the air,deafening their ears and almost knocking them backward. Immediatelyafterwards the thunder of heavy artillery broke out to their right, andthe mist beyond them was fitfully illuminated by lurid flashes. Broughtto a momentary stop, Jack again went forward, with eyes and earspainfully strained, every fantastic eddy of the mist presenting itselfas a possible enemy. Suddenly he looked round to see that Pepito waswith him. The boy was gone! Retracing his steps, he peered through thegloom, calling the gipsy's name softly. There was no answer, no sign ofhim. Five minutes were spent in fruitless search; then, within a fewyards of him, Jack heard the tramp of men marching rapidly in file.With a mixed feeling of annoyance and anxiety he turned and made off inthe opposite direction, crossed the district known as the Tanneries, andafter wandering about for nearly an hour, dodging footsteps, and seeingwith concern the mist clearing, arrived at the turning of the CasaXimenez just in time to assist the young lady then so urgently needingassistance.

  Still anxious about the safety of the gipsy boy, Jack felt, afterleaving the house in the Coso, that he could do nothing at the moment,and his first duty was to present his despatch to General Palafox. Thesounds of combat hurtled in the air; behind him clouds of smoke andflame bore witness to the success of the French bombardment. The streetwas full of men, women, citizens, soldiers, priests, hastening frompoint to point, all armed, all with fury and grim determination printedon their worn features. Stopping a boy who was hauling along a barrowfilled with powder, Jack asked him where General Palafox could be found.

  "In the Palace of the Inquisition, by the Portillo Gate," replied theboy in surprise, scarcely stopping to answer the question, and hurryingon again with his fatal load. Before he had gone fifty yards a bomb fellinto the barrow, and, unknown to Jack, this little defender of Saragossawas blown into eternity.

  Jack hastened along the street, climbing the barricades, shuddering ashe saw the unburied corpses of the slain lying before every church door,wincing in spite of himself as the thunders of the cannonade resoundedin his rear, and admiring the courage of the black-robed noble ladies,who went about the streets swiftly but quietly, some carrying aid to thewounded, others almost staggering beneath the weight of great bags ofpowder and ammunition tied to their waists. He hurried along the Coso,crossed the Calle del Hospital, pursued his way to the Portillo Gate,and at length, passing through a long covered approach, reached thePalace of the Inquisition--the Castle of Aljafferia, at the extremenorth of the city, outside the walls. At the gate of the castle manypeople were go
ing in and coming out. Jack joined the ingoing stream,and found himself within the stately halls of the old palace of thekings of Aragon, crowded with soldiers and people of all classes.Learning with some difficulty that the captain-general was in one of thesmaller salons, he at length reached the room, and stood in presence ofthe man whom for months past he had been more than eager to see.

  Jose Palafox was barely thirty years of age, a tall man with darkcomplexion, heavy brown moustache and whiskers, and kindlingeyes--kindling now, alas! with the flame of disease as well as ofpatriotic ardour. He was seated at a table on which papers wereoutspread. Every now and then his frame was racked with coughing. Athis right hand stood a grim-visaged priest, Don Basilio Bogiero, hischaplain, whose fiery zeal in the defence of the city was equal to hisown. Around were others of the notable men of the place, whom Jack cameto know before many days had passed--the parish priest Santiago Sass,the burly peasants known to the whole populace as Uncle George and UncleMarin, who had already proved their valour at the first siege ofSaragossa, six months before. Making his way through the throng, he cameto the table, and, bowing to the general, presented him with thedespatch he had run such risks to deliver.

  "From the British minister, Senor?" said Palafox in surprise, lookingkeenly at Jack.

  He broke the seal, and showed the handwriting to Don Basilio, who noddedin answer to his mute enquiry. The general then rapidly cast his eyesover the despatch; Jack, watching him, saw his features twitch as heread. Collecting himself, he folded it up and placed it in his pocket.

  "My brothers," he said aloud, "this is good news."

  A shout interrupted him.

  "Good news! good news!" rang from lip to lip. Santiago Sass crossedhimself and cried: "Praise to our Lady of the Pillar!" Don Basiliowatched everything with his fierce eyes.

  "Yes, my brothers, good news!" continued Palafox. "The great Englishgeneral, Sir Moore, has smitten the hosts of the accursed French; anarmy three times his own he has smitten and scattered to the winds ofheaven. The traitor, the regicide, Bonaparte, has fled to France, andour brethren in all parts of Spain are massing to march to ourassistance. Praise to the noble English! Praise to our noble allies!Praise to the great and noble Moore!"

  "Praise to Our Lady of the Pillar!" shouted Santiago Sass.

  The room rang with exultant cries, some in praise of Moore and theEnglish, others in adoring gratitude towards the patron saint of thecity. The fervour of religious enthusiasm was all the intenser becauseof the general belief that the extraordinary failure of the first siege,six months before, had been due to the miraculous interposition of OurLady.

  While the exultation was at its height, Palafox whispered a few words inthe ear of Don Basilio, rose from his chair, and beckoned Jack to followhim into a small inner room. There, having shut the door, he asked:

  "Do you know the contents of the British minister's despatch, Senor?"

  "Not in precise terms, Senor Capitan, but I know the facts. I wasmyself with Sir John Moore's army. I--"

  "Pardon me, Senor. You see what I am compelled to do? The patrioticardour of the Saragossans is so furious that I dare not as yet let themknow all the truth. And, indeed, I do not yet give up hope. Though Mr.Frere tells me that I can no longer expect assistance from without, I donot know--I do not know. My brother is raising levies to the south;others are gathering forces. In any case, our brave countrymen willform guerrilla bands, and we shall give the accursed French no respiteuntil they are all driven back across the mountains. And--but tell me;I do not understand why I have received so long and full a despatch fromMr. Frere and none from our own Junta. I should have expected that theMarquis del Villel would have given you a despatch that would have beenof equal importance with the British minister's."

  "That is easily explained, Senor Capitan. I carry Mr. Frere's despatchbecause I am myself an Englishman. My name is Lumsden--LieutenantLumsden of the Rifles." Jack watched the general's face for a sign ofrecognition of the name.

  "Indeed! you amaze me. You speak our tongue so--Lumsden! I remember; Ihad almost forgotten it; a friend of my old friend Don FernanAlvarez--is it not so? Alas! Don Fernan could not survive thehumiliation of his unhappy country. Are you the Senor Lumsden who wasDon Fernan's friend?"

  "My father was his partner, Senor," replied Jack.

  "Yes, and I had a letter for you, addressed to you by Don Fernan, andleft in my charge ere he died. As I understood, it was a duplicate of aletter sent to Mr. Lumsden in London--your father, no doubt, Senor--andDon Fernan asked me to retain it until I heard either from your fatheror yourself, and if I heard from neither within six months, I was tosend it to an address in London that he gave me."

  Palafox was here overtaken by a fit of coughing, which shook hisfever-worn frame. When the coughing ceased, and the general lay backpanting, Jack said quietly:

  "And the letter, Senor?"

  "That is what troubles me, Senor. I regret to tell you--"

  He was seized again with coughing; Jack waited anxiously for theparoxysm to cease.

  "I regret to tell you the letter is gone."

  "Gone!" echoed Jack blankly.

  "Gone, Senor."

  "But how--why--can it have been lost, mislaid?"

  "It was locked in my cabinet. A fortnight ago my cabinet was rifled,and a box of papers was taken away, among them the letter addressed toyour father."

  "But still I do not understand, Senor. Why should anyone wish to steala letter addressed to an unknown Englishman?"

  "No one wished that, I suspect," said Palafox with a faint smile. "Thebox in which the letter was placed was exactly similar to another boxcontaining papers of public importance, including plans for the defenceof the city. That, as I surmise, was the box which the thief wished tosecure. Luckily for Spain, unluckily for you, he stole the wrong box,and apart from your letter obtained nothing of any great importance."

  "I am glad of that," said Jack instantly. "Of course I am disappointedand vexed about the letter, but a private loss like that does not matterhalf so much as the loss of your plans would have done; it's no goodcrying over spilt milk, as we say, and I must put up with it."

  "It is good of you to take the matter with such noble resignation," saidthe courtly Spaniard. "Believe me, I regret the circumstanceexceedingly. I can only hope that the French spy who stole the box--hemust have been a French spy; we have no afrancesados in Saragossa--I canonly hope that there was nothing in the letter that will seriouslyaffect your fortunes, and after all, it was a duplicate, and theoriginal is probably safe with your father in London. And now tell me,Senor, how you succeeded in the daring and marvellous feat of enteringour sorely invested city."

  Jack gave a brief account of his adventures, to which Palafox listenedwith an air of the keenest interest.

  "It will be more difficult to get out than in," he said at theconclusion of the story. "And yet to remain in the city will be tocourt death or disease. It cuts me to the heart to think of thethousands who are dying here week by week, not for want of food--we haveprovisions of a sort in plenty--but for want of air and space. We hadtoo large a population, Senor, when the siege began. I should have sentaway the townsfolk; I see it now. And yet no, for the townsfolk are ourmost ardent and staunch defenders; even when the courage of the soldiersflags, the brave citizens cry "Guerra al cuchillo",[#] and "Hasta laultima tapia",[#] and when fell disease overtakes them in the fetidcellars where they now mostly live, still with pious resignation theycry: "Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar".[#] Such is their spirit,Senor, and hoping against hope I maintain my defences, and, if Godwills, shall yet win the day."

  [#] "War to the knife."

  [#] "To the last wall."

  [#] "That which is to be cannot fail."

  During this speech Palafox had worked himself up into a frenzy thatbrought on another fit of coughing; and Jack, observing his unnaturallybright eyes, could not but wonder whether the labours andresponsibilities of the defence were n
ot affecting his mind. In amoment Jack said quietly:

  "My position need not give you concern at present, Senor Capitan. Imust stay in Saragossa for at any rate a day, for I have to makeenquiries after my old friend Don Fernan's family. His daughter,Senor--is she well?"

  "I believe so; I hope so. It is long since I saw her. I wished her toleave the city before the siege, but, like a true maiden of Spain, shepreferred to remain and do what she could to help the noble Countess ofBureta and the thrice noble Maria Agustin, our heroic maid of Saragossa,in serving the soldiers and tending the sick and wounded. The Senoritais under the guardianship of her aunt, the Dona Teresa, and if you willseek the Padre Consolacion, he will give you all particulars of theirwelfare; he undertook to watch over their interests at my specialrequest. If you stay with us for a time, then, Senor, you will want aresidence. There is little choice; we are at the mercy of the Frenchguns; no house is safe, but--"

  "I have been thinking, Senor," interposed Jack, as the general paused:"Will you accept me as a volunteer? I have some months' leave. I notonly have personal interests in your city, but I feel that the strugglein which you are engaged is one that I can throw myself into with awhole heart. The cause of Spain is the cause of England, and if I cando anything--"

  "Senor, I thank you; I welcome you with eagerness. You are an officer;your experience with Sir Moore's army will be of value to me. Many ofmy best officers are dead; many more have no experience. If you please,I will assign you a definite command on our defences; will you come tome to-morrow at this hour?"

  Jack was on the point of replying when loud vociferations came throughthe door from the large room. "Palafox! Where is Palafox? Thecaptain-general! Come! Help! Tio Jorge! Palafox!" The cries grewlouder and louder; heavy fists, muskets, pikes battered on the door; DonBasilio's powerful voice was heard endeavouring to quell the tumult.Gathering himself together, and bravely repressing the signs of weaknesshe had previously shown, Palafox walked to the door, opened it, andstood in the doorway.

  "What is it, my children?" he said.

  The noise was hushed; the crowd turned as one man and seemed to belooking for someone. Then a passage opened up among them, and a hugebrawny figure, with capless, dishevelled head, torn clothes, and faceand hands black with the smoke of battle, elbowed his way through tillhe came to the general.

  "Viva Arcos! Viva el valiente Arcos!" cried several in the throng.

  "Silencio!" in the stern, authoritative tone of Don Basilio.

  "Senor Capitan," said the big man, "the French are making towards theCoso! The Casa Ximenez block is in their hands. They are burning,butchering; they are beating down our men at the barricades! I come forthe reserve, Senor; for Tio Jorge and Tio Marin, and all their men! Atonce, Senor; send them at once; for if time is lost, the accursed foewill swarm into the centre of the town, and all is lost."

  Before Palafox could say a word, the priest Santiago Sass seized amusket, and, raising his piercing voice, cried:

  "Follow me! follow me! In the name of God and Our Lady of the Pillar!To the convent of San Agustin! Tio Jorge, Tio Marin, Jorge Arcos,follow me!"

  He rushed out into the corridor, and the mob, in a frenzy of enthusiasm,poured pell-mell after him, carrying their heroes with them. The roomwas left almost empty. Don Basilio turned to Palafox and said quietly:

  "They will recover any ground that is lost. Spare yourself, my sonJose."

  "But the madness of Santiago leading them to the convent! The wallswere breached by the explosion this morning, and the French must now bein full possession of it."

  "If the Augustine convent is where the explosion took place," cried Jackeagerly, "that is near where I came in this morning. I found out byaccident something of the position there, Senor. I think I could help.Have I your leave?"

  Palafox looked kindly into the boy's shining eyes.

  "Yes," he said, "go, and bring me word of what befalls."

  Second Siege of Saragossa]

  Jack sprang instantly towards the door. As he passed out, Don Basilioturned with an enquiring look towards Palafox.

  "An English youth, Padre," said the general, in answer to his mutequestion.

  "A leader of men," said the priest, and sat down to write aproclamation.