CONTENTS. (continued 2)

To my great joy, we paraded in the grand square, on the seventh day after arrival, and marched in sections to the music of our bugles, to join the army, having got our camp equipments, consisting of a camp-kettle and bill-hook to every six men, a blanket, a canteen and haversack, to each man. Orders had been given that each soldier, on his march, should carry alongst with him three days’ provision. Our mess of six, cast lots who should be cook the first day, as we were to carry the kettle day about; the lot fell to me. My knapsack contained two shirts, two pair of stockings, one pair overalls, two shoebrushes, a shaving-box, one pair spare shoes, and a few other articles; my greatcoat and blanket above the knapsack: my canteen with water was slung over my shoulder, on one side; my haversack with beef and bread, on the other; sixty round of ball cartridge, and the camp-kettle above all.

I was now well broke down by what I had been in my first campaign with Moore. How different was Tom marching to school with his satchel on his back, from Tom with his musket and kitt[6], a private soldier, an atom of an army, unheeded by all, his comforts sacrificed to ambition, his untimely death talked of with indifference, and only counted in the gross with hundreds, without a sigh.

We halted on the first night at a palace belonging to the Queen of Portugal, called Safrea, where we were joined by the Honourable Henry Cadogan, our Colonel. Next day, the 14th October, 1810, we joined the army at Sabral de Monte Agraco, a small town surrounded by hills. On the front is a hill, called by our men Windmill Hill, from a number of windmills which were upon it; in the rear, another they called Gallows Hill, from a gibbet standing there. We had not been three hours in the town, and were busy cooking, when the alarm sounded. There were nine British, and three Portuguese regiments in the town. We were all drawn up, and remained under arms, expecting every moment to receive the enemy, whose skirmishers covered Windmill Hill. In about an hour, the light companies of all the regiments were ordered out, alongst with the 71st. Colonel Cadogan called to us, at the foot of the hill, “My lads, this is the first affair I have ever been in with you; show me what you can do, now or never.” We gave a hurra, and advanced up the hill, driving their advanced skirmishers before us, until about half-way up, when we commenced a heavy fire, and were as hotly received. In the mean time, the remaining regiments evacuated the town. The enemy pressed so hard upon us, we were forced to make the best of our way down the hill, and were closely followed by the French, through the town, up Gallows Hill. We got behind a mud wall, and kept our ground in spite of their utmost efforts. Here we lay upon our arms all night. Next morning, by day-break, there was not a Frenchman to be seen. As soon as the sun was fairly up, we advanced into the town, and began a search for provisions, which were now become very scarce; and, to our great joy, found a large store-house full of dry fish, flour, rice, and sugar, besides bales of cloth. All now became bustle and mirth; fires were kindled, and every man became a cook. Scones[7] were the order of the day. Neither flour nor sugar were wanting, and the water was plenty; so I fell to bake myself a flour scone. Mine was mixed and laid upon the fire, and I, hungry enough, watching it. Though neither neat nor comely, I was anticipating the moment when it would be eatable. Scarce was it warm, ere the bugle sounded to arms. Then was the joy that reigned a moment before turned to execrations. I snatched my scone off the fire, raw as it was, put it into my haversack, and formed. We remained under arms until dark; and then took up our old quarters upon Gallows Hill, where I ate my raw scone, sweetly seasoned by hunger. In our advance to the town, we were much entertained by some of our men, who had got over a wall, the day before, when the enemy were in the rear, and now were put to their shifts to get over again, and scarce could make it out.

Next morning, the French advanced to a mud wall, about forty yards in front of the one we lay behind. It rained heavily this day, and there was very little firing. During the night, we received orders to cover the bugle and tartans of our bonnets with black crape, which had been served out to us during the day, and to put on our great-coats. Next morning, the French seeing us thus, thought we had retired, and left Portuguese to guard the heights. With dreadful shouts, they leaped over that wall before which they had stood, when guarded by British. We were scarce able to withstand their fury. To retreat was impossible; all behind being ploughed land, rendered deep by the rain. There was not a moment to hesitate. To it we fell pell-mell, French and British mixed together. It was a trial of strength in single combat; every man had his opponent, many had two. I got one up to the wall on the point of my bayonet. He was unhurt; I would have spared him, but he would not spare himself. He cursed and defied me, nor ceased to attack my life, until he fell, pierced by my bayonet; his breath died away in a curse and menace. This was the work of a moment: I was compelled to this extremity. I was again attacked, but my antagonist fell, pierced by a random shot. We soon forced them to retire over the wall, cursing their mistake. At this moment I stood gasping for breath, not a shoe on my feet; my bonnet had fallen to the ground. Unmindful of my situation, I followed the enemy over the wall. We pursued them about a mile, and then fell back to the scene of our struggle. It was covered with dead and wounded, bonnets and shoes trampled and stuck in the mud. I recovered a pair of shoes: whether they had been mine or not I cannot tell; they were good. Here I first got any plunder. A French soldier lay upon the ground dead; he had fallen backwards; his hat had fallen off his head, which was kept up by his knapsack. I struck the hat with my foot, and felt it rattle; seized it in a moment, and in the lining found a gold watch and silver crucifix. I kept them; as I had as good a right to them as any other. Yet they were not valuable in my estimation. At this time, life was held by so uncertain a tenure, and my comforts were so scanty, that I would have given the watch for a good meal and a dry shirt. There was not a dry stitch on my back at the time, nor for the next two days.

In a short time the French sent in a flag of truce, for leave to carry off their wounded, which was granted. They advanced to their old ground, and we lay looking at each other for three days, the two first of which the rain never ceased to pour; the third day was good and dry. During this time, the French withdrew their lines, and left only picquets. On the third day, an officer and twelve men went to the wall, as the French sentinels were become very remiss. He looked over, and saw a picquet of fifty men playing cards and amusing themselves. Our party levelled their muskets, and gave them a volley. They took to their heels, officers and all. There was no further attack made that day, and we retired behind the line batteries at night, quite worn out with hunger and fatigue. For five nights I had never been in bed, and, during a good part of that time, it had rained hard. We were upon ploughed land, which was rendered so soft, that we sunk over the shoes at every step. The manner in which I passed the night was thus: I placed my canteen upon the ground, put my knapsack above, and sat upon it, supporting my head upon my hands, my musket between my knees resting upon my shoulder, and my blanket over all—ready to start in a moment at the least alarm. The nights were chill: indeed, in the morning I was so stiff, I could not stand or move with ease for some time; my legs were benumbed to the knees. I was completely wet three nights out of the five. A great number of the men took the fever and ague, after we retired behind the lines. I was not a whit the worse.

On our arrival behind the lines, our brigade, consisting of the 50th, 71st, and 92d, commanded by Major-General Sir William Erskine, was quartered in a small village called Sabreira. Our first care was to place outposts and sentinels between the batteries, about twenty yards distant from each other. We communicated with the Foot Guards on our right, and the Brunswick infantry on our left. Those off duty were employed throwing up batteries and breast-works, or breaking up the roads. The day after we fell into the lines, the French placed sentinels in front of us without any dispute. There was a small valley and stream of water between us.

We remained thus for five weeks; every day, when off duty, forming defensive works, or breaking up the roads; it being a place that no army could pass, save upon the highway. The advanced picquet of the French lay in a windmill: ours, consisting of one captain, two subalterns, and 400 men, in a small village. There was only a distance of about 150 yards between us. We learned, from the deserters, that the French were much in want of provisions. To provoke them, our sentinels, at times, would fix a biscuit to the point of their bayonets, and present to them. One day the French had a bullock, in endeavouring to kill which their butcher missed his blow, and the animal ran off right into our lines. The French looked so foolish. We hurraed at them, secured the bullock, brought him in front, killed him in style. They looked on, but dared not approach to seize him. Shortly after an officer and four men came with a flag of truce, and supplicated, in the most humble manner, for the half of the bullock, which they got for godsake.

On the evening of the 14th November the French made their outposts stronger than they had yet been, and kindled great fires after dark. We were all under arms an hour before day, expecting to be attacked; but when the day dawned there was not a Frenchman to be seen. As soon as the sun was up, we set off after them. When we arrived at Sobral, we found a great number of our men, who had been wounded on the 14th and 15th October, besides a greater proportion of French wounded and sick. We were told by our men, that the weakly men, and the baggage of the French army, had been sent off eight days before. We were halted at Sobral until provisions came up; when three days allowance was served out to each man. We again commenced our advance. The weather was very bad. It rained for a great part of the time without intermission. On the fourth day we took about 100 prisoners, who had concealed themselves in a wood.

This retreat brought to my mind the Corunna race. We could not advance 100 yards without seeing dead soldiers of the enemy stretched upon the road, or at a little distance from it, who had lain down to die, unable to proceed through hunger and fatigue. We could not pity them, miserable as they were. Their retreat resembled more that of famished wolves than men. Murder and devastation marked their way; every house was a sepulchre, a cabin of horrors! Our soldiers used to wonder why the Frenchmen were not swept by heaven from the earth, when they witnessed their cruelties. In a small town called Safrea, I saw twelve dead bodies lying in one house upon the floor! Every house contained traces of their wanton barbarity. Often has a shade of doubt crossed my mind, when reading the accounts of former atrocities; often would I think—they are exaggerated—thank God we live in more civilized times. How dreadfully were my doubts removed. I cease to describe, least I raise doubts similar to my own.

At this time I got a distaste I could never overcome. A few of us went into a wine-store, where there was a large tun, with a ladder to get to the top, in which was a hole about two feet square. There was not much wine in it, so we buckled our canteen straps together, until a camp-kettle attached to them reached the liquor. We drew it up once,—we all drank: down it went again—it got entangled with something at the bottom of the tun—a candle was lowered;—to our great disappointment, the corpse of a French soldier lay upon the bottom! Sickness came upon me, and for a long time afterwards I shuddered at the sight of red wine. The Portuguese soldiers never would drink red wine, if white could be got. When I asked the reason, their reply was, they knew how it was made.

We continued our pursuit, every day taking more or less prisoners who were unable to keep up with the main army, until we came in front of Santarem. Here we piled arms upon the sandy ground: the French were in possession of the heights. Colonel Cadogan made the smartest of the men run races, in front, for rum. From this sport we were suddenly called to form line for attack: but the French position was too strong for us. By this time it was quite dark, and we had a large plain to cross, to a village where we were to halt all night. In our march we were put into confusion, and a good number of the men knocked over by a flock of goats, of which we caught a few, which made a delicious supper for us. On our arrival at the village we were forced to break up the doors, as the inhabitants would not let us in. Next morning was very wet. The following evening we halted at a village; but two Portuguese regiments had been before us, and swept all away. We sent out parties to forage, and got some Indian corn, which we ground, ourselves, at a mill; the inhabitants having all fled. We were then quartered in a convent in Alcanterina, where we lay from the beginning of December, until 5th March, 1811. Provisions were very scarce. Fatigue parties were sent out every day for Indian corn and pot herbs. We had beef, but we could not subsist upon beef alone, which was seldom good, being far driven, very tough, and lean. An accident procured us a short relief: some of our men, amusing themselves in piercing the ceiling with their bayonets, discovered a trap door, and found a great concealed store of food and valuables. We fared well while it lasted. Having very little duty, our time was spent at foot-ball. We were very badly off for shoes, but, by good luck, discovered a quantity of leather in a tan-yard. Those who found it helped themselves first, and were wasting it. The Colonel then ordered each man a pair of soles and heels, to be put up in his knapsack.

The French gave us the slip at the commencement of their retreat, by placing wooden guns in their batteries, and stuffing old clothes with straw, which they put in place of their sentinels. By this means their retreat was not discovered for two days; and only then, by one of our cavalry riding up to their lines, to take a sentinel prisoner who appeared asleep. As soon as it was ascertained there was a trick, we set off after them, and beginning to come up with them, took a good many prisoners. Our advance was so rapid, that provisions could not be brought up to us. We were often two days without bread. The rear of the army being always served first, we, who were in advance, seldom got enough. For four or five days we were so close up with the French, that we had skirmishes with them every day; but having received no bread for three days, we were forced to halt for two, until we got a supply. During these two days I had an opportunity of witnessing the desolation caused by the French soldiers. In one small village I counted seventeen dead bodies of men, women, and children; and most of the houses were burnt to the ground.

The Portuguese were not unrevenged of their destroyers, great numbers of whom had lain down unable to proceed, from wounds or fatigue, and had been either killed by the peasantry, or died, unheard, amongst the devastation themselves or their fellows had made.

At this time we were forced either to forage or starve, as we were far in advance of our supplies. I was now as much a soldier as any of my comrades, when it fell to my turn. At this time I was so fortunate as to procure the full of my haversack of Indian corn heads, which we used to call turkeys. I was welcomed with joy; we rubbed out some of our corn, and boiled it with a piece of beef; roasted some of our turkeys, and were happy. Bread, at length, coming up, we received three days allowance a-man, and recommenced our advance; but never came up with the enemy until they reached the Aguida, on the 9th April, 1811.

We were marched into winter quarters. Our division, the 2d, was posted in a small town called Alberguira, on the frontiers of Spain, where we remained till the 30th April. During our stay I had an adventure of a disagreeable kind. I was strolling, as usual, when I heard a voice; pleading in the most earnest manner, in great distress. I hastened to the spot, and found a Portuguese muleteer taking a bundle from a girl. I ran up to him and bade him desist: he flew into a passion, drew his knife, and made a stab at me. I knocked him down with my fist; the girl screamed and wept. I stood on my guard, and bade him throw away his knife. He rose, his eyes glistening with rage, and stabbed furiously at me. In vain I called to him: I drew my bayonet. I had no choice, yet, unwilling to kill, I held it by the point, and knocked him to the ground with the hilt as he rushed to close with me; left him there, and brought home the weeping girl to her parents.

On the 30th of April we set off for Fuentes de Honore, where we arrived, after a fatiguing march of three days, and formed line about two miles in rear of the town, hungry and weary, having had no bread for the last two days. On the 3d of May, at day-break, all the cavalry and sixteen light companies occupied the town. We stood under arms until three o’clock, when a staff-officer rode up to our Colonel, and gave orders for our advance. Colonel Cadogan put himself at our head, saying, “My lads, you have had no provision these two days; there is plenty in the hollow in front, let us down and divide it.” We advanced as quick as we could run, and met the light companies retreating as fast as they could. We continued to advance at double quick time, our firelocks at the trail, our bonnets in our hands. They called to us, “71st, you will come back quicker than you advance.” We soon came full in front of the enemy. The Colonel cries, “Here is food, my lads, cut away.” Thrice we waved our bonnets, and thrice we cheered; brought our firelocks to the charge, and forced them back through the town.

How different the duty of the French officers from ours. They, stimulating the men by their example; the men vociferating, each chafing each, until they appear in a fury, shouting to the points of our bayonets. After the first huzza the British officers, restraining their men, still as death. “Steady, lads, steady,” is all you hear, and that in an under tone.

The French had lost a great number of men in the streets. We pursued them about a mile out of the town, trampling over the dead and wounded; but their cavalry bore down upon us, and forced us back into the town, where we kept our ground in spite of their utmost efforts. In this affair my life was most wonderfully preserved. In forcing the French through the towns, during our first advance, a bayonet went through between my side and clothes to my knapsack, which stopped its progress. The Frenchman to whom the bayonet belonged, fell, pierced by a musket ball from my rear-rank man. Whilst freeing myself from the bayonet, a ball took off part of my right shoulder wing, and killed my rear rank man, who fell upon me. Narrow as this escape was, I felt no uneasiness, I was become so inured to danger and fatigue.

During this day the loss of men was great. In our retreat back to the town, when we halted to check the enemy, who bore hard upon us in their attempts to break our line, often was I obliged to stand with a foot upon each side of a wounded man, who wrung my soul with prayers I could not answer, and pierced my heart with his cries, to be lifted out of the way of the cavalry. While my heart bled for them, I have shaken them rudely off. We kept up our fire until long after dark. About one o’clock in the morning we got four ounces of bread served out to each man, which had been collected out of the haversacks of the Foot Guards. After the firing had ceased, we began to search through the town, and found plenty of flour, bacon, and sausages, on which we feasted heartily, and lay down in our blankets wearied to death. My shoulder was as black as a coal, from the recoil of my musket; for, this day, I had fired 107 round of ball-cartridge. Sore as I was, I slept as sound as a top, till I was awakened by the loud call of the bugle, an hour before day. Soon as it was light the firing commenced, and was kept up until about ten o’clock, when Lieutenant Stewart, of our regiment, was sent with a flag of truce, for leave to carry off our wounded from the enemy’s lines, which was granted, and at the same time they carried off theirs from ours. As soon as the wounded were all got in, many of whom had lain bleeding all night, many, both a day and a night, the French brought down a number of bands of music to a level piece of ground, about ninety or a hundred yards broad, that lay between us. They continued to play until sunset, whilst the men were dancing and diverting themselves at foot-ball. We were busy cooking the remainder of our sausages, bacon, and flour. After dark, a deserter from the French told us, that there were five regiments of grenadiers picked out to storm the town. In the French army, the grenadiers are all in regiments by themselves. We lay down, fully accoutred, as usual, and slept in our blankets. An hour before day we were ready to receive the enemy. About half-past nine o’clock, a great gun from the French line, which was answered by one from ours, was the signal to engage. Down they came, shouting as usual. We kept them at bay in spite of their cries and formidable looks. How different their appearance from ours! their hats set round with feathers, their beards long and black, gave them a fierce look; their stature was superior to ours. Most of us were young. We looked like boys,—they like savages! but we had the true spirit in us. We foiled them in every attempt to take the town, until about eleven o’clock, when we were overpowered and forced through the streets, contesting every inch. A French dragoon, who was dealing death around, forced his way up to near where I stood; every moment I expected to be cut down. My piece was empty; there was not a moment to lose; I got a stab at him beneath the ribs, upwards; he gave a back stroke before he fell, and cut the stock of my musket in two: thus I stood unarmed. I soon got another, and fell to work again. During the preceding night we had been reinforced by the 79th regiment, Colonel Cameron commanding, who was killed about this time. Notwithstanding all our efforts the enemy forced us out of the town, and then halted and formed close column betwixt us and it. While they stood thus, the havoc amongst them was dreadful. Gap after gap was made by our cannon, and as quickly filled up. Our loss was not so severe, as we stood in open files. While we stood thus firing at each other, as quick as we could, the 88th regiment advanced from the lines, charged the enemy, and forced them to give way. As we passed over the ground where they had stood, it lay two and three deep of dead and wounded. While we drove them before us through the town, in turn, they were reinforced, which only served to increase the slaughter. We forced them out and kept possession all day. After sunset, the enemy sent in a flag of truce, for leave to carry off their wounded and bury their dead, which was granted. About ten o’clock, we were relieved, and retired back to our lines. In these affairs we lost four officers, and two taken prisoners, besides 400 men killed and wounded. This statement, more than any words of mine, will give an idea of the action at Fuentes de Honore. On my arrival in the lines, when unpacking my knapsack, I found a ball had pierced into the centre of if, and dimpled the back of my shoebrush. We remained seven days in the lines, the French showing themselves three or four times a-day. On the 7th, they retired, and we went back to our old quarters in Alberguira.

While here, we received a draught of 200 men, and again set off. Our division consisted of the 24th, 42d, 50th, 71st, 79th, 92d, and one battalion of the King’s German Legion. We were assembled after dark, and marched off all that night, next day, and night following, when we arrived at a town, situated upon a hill, called Pennemacore. The heat was so great we were unable to keep together. I do not believe that ten men of a company marched into the town together; they had lain down upon the road, or straggled behind, unable to climb the hill. Two men belonging to the Foot Guards fell down dead, and one of the 50th, from heat and thirst. Two or three times my sight grew dim; my mouth was dry as dust; my lips one continued blister. I had water in my canteen, but it tasted bitter as soot, and it was so warm it made me sick. At this time I first tried a thing which gave me a little relief: I put a small pebble into my mouth and sucked it; this I always did afterwards, in similar situations, and found drought easier to be borne.

Early next morning, the 50th, 71st, and 92d, were marched on; and the remainder of the division returned to their old quarters at Alberguira. After a most distressing march of seven days we arrived at Badajos, where we remained one night; then marched, nine miles, to a town called Talavera Real, where we halted three days; then marched, at six o’clock in the evening, to the camp at Albuera, a few days after the battle, which had been the cause of our rapid movement. We remained in camp at Albuera a short time, then marched to Elvas, a strong town on the Portuguese frontier, opposite Badajos. We remained here four days, and then marched into camp at Toro de Moro, where we remained for a considerable time. Here I enjoyed the beauties of the country more than at any former period. Often, when off duty, have I wandered into the woods to enjoy the cool refreshing shade of the cork trees, and breathe the richly perfumed air, loaded with the fragrance of innumerable aromatic plants. One evening, as I lay in the wood thinking upon home, sweeter than all the surrounding sweets, almost overcome by my sensations, I heard, at a small distance, music: I listened some time ere I could be satisfied it was so: it ceased all at once, then began sweeter than before. I arose, and approached nearer, to avoid the noise of a small burn that ran rippling near where I had been reclining; I soon knew the air; I crept nearer, and could distinguish the words. I became riveted to the spot; that moment compensated for all I had suffered in Spain. I felt that pleasure which softens the heart and overflows at the eyes. The words that first struck my ear, were,

Soon as the voice ceased I looked through the underwood, and saw four or five soldiers seated on the turf, who sung, in their turn, Scotland’s sweetest songs of remembrance. When they retired, I felt as if I was bereft of all enjoyment. I slowly retired to the camp, to reflect, and spend a sleepless night. Every opportunity I returned to the scene of my happiness, and had the pleasure, more than once, to enjoy this company unseen. While encamped here we received a draft of 350 men from England. Shortly after we marched to Burbo, to protect the siege of Badajos. We lay here till the 17th June, when Soult raised the siege, and we retired to Portalegre. We then were marched to Castello de Vido, another hill town about two leagues from Portalegre.

On the 22d October we received information that General Girard, with 4000 men, infantry and cavalry, was collecting contributions in Estremadura, and had cut off part of our baggage and supplies. We immediately set off from Portalegre, along with the brigade commanded by General Hill, and, after a most fatiguing march, the weather very bad, we arrived at Malpartida. The French were only ten miles distant. By a near cut, on the Merida road, through Aldea del Cano, we got close up to them on the 27th, at Alcuesca, and were drawn up in columns, with great guns, ready to receive them. They had heard nothing of our approach. We went into the town. It was now nigh ten o’clock, the enemy were in Arroyo del Molino, only three miles distant. We got half a pound of rice served out to each man, to be cooked immediately. Hunger made little cooking necessary. The officers had orders to keep their men silent. We were placed in the houses, but our wet and heavy accoutrements were, on no account, to be taken off. At twelve o’clock we received our allowance of rum, and shortly after the serjeants tapped at the doors, calling not above their breath. We turned out, and at slow time continued our march. The whole night was one continued pour of rain. Weary and wet to the skin, we trudged on without exchanging a word; nothing breaking the silence of the night save the howling of the wolves. The tread of the men was drowned by the pattering of the rain. When day at length broke, we were close upon the town. The French posts had been withdrawn into it, but the embers still glowed in their fires. During the whole march, the 71st had been with the cavalry and horse-artillery as an advanced guard. General Hill rode up to our Colonel, and ordered him to make us clean out our pans, (as the rain had wet all the priming,) form square, and retire a short distance, lest the French cavalry had seen us and should make an attack: however, the drift was so thick they could not; it blew right in their faces when they looked our way. The Colonel told us off in three divisions, and gave us orders to charge up three separate streets of the town, and force our way, without halting, to the other side. We shouldered our arms. The General, taking off his hat, said, “God be with you—quick march.” On reaching the gates we gave three cheers, and in we went, the inhabitants calling, “Live the English,” our piper playing “Hey Johnny Cope;” the French swearing, fighting in confusion, running here and there, some in their shirts, some half accoutred. The streets were crowded with baggage, and men ready to march, all now in one heap of confusion. On we drove: our orders were to take no prisoners, and neither to turn to the right nor left until we reached the other side of the town. As we advanced, I saw the French General come out of a house, frantic with rage. Never will I forget the grotesque figure he made, as he threw his cocked hat upon the ground and stamped upon it, gnashing his teeth. When I got the first glance of him he had many medals on his breast. In a minute his coat was as bare as a private’s. We formed under cover of some old walls. A brigade of French stood in view. We got orders to fire,—not ten pieces in a company went off, the powder was again so wet with the rain. A brigade of Portuguese artillery came up. We gave the enemy another volley, leaped the wall, formed column, and drove them over the hill, down which they threw all their baggage before they surrendered. In this affair we took about 3000 prisoners, 1600 horse, and 6 pieces of artillery, with a great quantity of baggage, &c.

We were again marched back to Portalegre, where the horses were sold and divided amongst the men, according to their rank: I got 2s. 6d. for my share, but I had provided myself a good assortment of necessaries out of the French stores at Molino.

We remained at Portalegre until the campaign began, in the month of January, 1812. We were in advance, covering the operations against Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos. We had a most fatiguing spring, marching and counter-marching between Merida and Almandralajo. We were first marched to Merida, but Dombrossky fled with the utmost precipitation. We then marched against Drouet, who was at Almandralajo; but he likewise set off for Zafra, leaving his stores and ammunition to us—a welcome gift. The weather was so wet, the very shoes were soaked off our feet; and many were the contrivances we fell upon to keep them on.

Almandralajo is a low swampy place, the worst town I ever was in in Spain: our men called it Almandralajo Craco, (cursed.) Seldom a day passed but we had a skirmish with the enemy at Merida or Almandralajo. In the month of March we got the route for Albuera, where we formed our lines, and were working at the batteries day and night. An alarm was given three different times, and we were marched on to the position; but nothing occurred, and we fell back. When I first came upon the spot where the battle of Albuera had been fought, I felt very sad; the whole ground was still covered with the wrecks of an army, bonnets, cartridge-boxes, pieces of belts, old clothes, and shoes; the ground in numerous ridges, under which lay many a heap of mouldering bones. It was a melancholy sight; it made us all very dull for a short time.

The whole army receiving orders to advance, we moved in solid columns, cavalry on right and left. The enemy fell back as we advanced. Our brigade was marched up a hill, where we had a beautiful view of the armies, threatening each other like two thunder clouds charged with death. Shortly after we were marched into the valley, the enemy fired two or three round shot at us, which did no harm. We were encamped till next day at noon, when we set off, pursuing them for two days, and were then marched back to Almandralajo Craco, where we lay till the beginning of April.

Next we advanced to cover the operations against Badajos, which surrendered on the 6th, the day of our arrival. Next morning the band played The Downfall of Paris. We remained until May, when we were marched to Almaraz, where the French had two forts which intercepted our supplies, as they commanded the bridge over the Tagus. Our brigade, consisting of the 50th, 71st, and 92d Regiments, set off and marched all day until noon. On the second day our officers got orders that every person in the village of Almaraz should be put to death, there being none but those belonging to the enemy in it. We marched all night until break of day next morning, when we halted on a height opposite the large fort, just as they fired their morning gun. As the day broke up, they got sight of our arrival, and gave us a shell or two, which did us no harm. We were moved down the hill out of their view. Then we were marched to the height again, where we stood under arms for a short time, until we were ordered to pile arms and take off our packs. We remained thus until twelve o’clock, when we got half an allowance of liquor: oxen were brought up and killed on the spot;, each man received two pounds of beef in lieu of bread. We got this for three days.

On the evening of the third day, General Hill ordered our left companies to move down to the Valley, to cover his recognisance. When he returned, the officers were called. A scaling-ladder was given to each section of a company of the left wing, with the exception of two companies. We moved down the hill in a dismal manner; it was so dark we could not see three yards before us. The hill was very steep, and we were forced to wade through whins and scramble down rocks, still carrying the ladders. When day-light, on the morning of the 19th, at length showed us to each other, we were scattered all over the foot of the hill like strayed sheep, not more in one place than were held together by a ladder. We halted, formed, and collected the ladders, then moved on. We had a hollow to pass through to get at the battery. The French had cut a part of the brae-face away, and had a gun that swept right through into the hollow. We made a rush past it, to get under the brae on the other side. The French were busy cooking, and preparing to support the other fort, thinking we would attack it first, as we had lain next it. On our approach the French sentinel fired and retired. We halted, fixed bayonets, and moved on in double quick time: we did not receive above four shot from the battery until we were under the works, and had the ladders placed to the walls. Their entrenchment proved deeper than we expected, which caused us to splice our ladders under the wall, during which time they annoyed us much by throwing grenades, stones, and logs over it; but not a Frenchman durst be seen on the top, for we stood with our pieces cocked and presented. As soon as the ladders were spliced, we forced them from the works, and out of the town, at the point of the bayonet, down the hill and over the bridge. They were in such haste they cut the bridge before all their men had got over, and numbers were either drowned or taken prisoners. One of our men had the honour to be the first to mount the works. Fort Napoleon fired two or three shot into Fort Almaraz. We took the hint from this circumstance, and turned the guns of Almaraz on Fort Napoleon, and forced the enemy to leave it. It being a bridge of boats, two companies were sent, with brooms, to burn and cut it away: but the enemy being in superior force upon the other side, compelled them to retire under cover until reinforced. We moved forward to the village of Almaraz, and found plenty of provisions, which had been very scarce with us for some days. We filled our haversacks, and burned the town; then encamped close by it all night; and marched next morning, leaving a company of sappers and miners to blow up the works. We marched back to our old quarters, and continued marching up and down watching the motions of the enemy.

On the night of the 22d July, when we were in a wood, we received the joyful news of the defeat of Marmont at Salamanca, and got a double allowance of liquor. Colonel Cadogan took the end of a horn, called a a tot, and drank, “Success to the British arms.” Some of us had money, and sent to the village for liquor. We made a little treat in the best manner we could, and passed a joyful night.

We advanced to Aranjuez, where we lay for some time. It is a palace of the King of Spain. The whole country is beautiful; fruit was very plenty and of all kinds. We were eight days in the Escurial, and continued to watch the motions of the French alongst the Tagus, skirmishing almost every day. Individuals of the 13th and 14th Light Dragoons used to engage in single combat with the horsemen of the enemy. Often whole squadrons would be brought to engage by two men beginning. We remained thus skirmishing till Lord Wellington raised the siege of Burgos, when we fell back to the Iacamah on the beginning of November, then on Alba Tormes, where we skirmished two days and two nights. A part of us here were lining a wall, the French in great strength in front. One of our lads let his hat fall over when taking cartridges from it, laid his musket against the wall, went over to the enemy’s side, and came back again unhurt. At this very time the button of my stock was shot off.

The short time we remained at Tormes we were very ill off for provisions. One of our men, Thomas Cadwell, found a piece of meat near the hospital on the face of the brae: he brought it home and cooked it. A good part of it was eaten before one of the men, perceiving him, said, “What is that you are eating?” Tom said it was meat he had found. The others looked and knew it to be the fore arm of a man; the hand was not at it—it was only the part from a little below the elbow and above the wrist. The man threw it away, but never looked squeamish; he said it was very sweet, and was never a bit the worse.

The French left strong picquets in front, stole down the river, and crossed, hoping to surprise us and come upon our rear. We immediately blew up the bridge and retired. Many of our men had to ford the river. We left a Spanish garrison in the fort and retired to the heights. There was a mill on the river side near the bridge, wherein a number of our men were helping themselves to flour during the time the others were fording. Our Colonel rode down and forced them out, throwing a handful of flour on each man as he passed out of the mill. When we were drawn up on the height, he rode along the column, looking for the millers, as we called them. At this moment a hen put her head out of his coat-pocket, and looked first to one side and then to another. We began to laugh; we could not restrain ourselves. He looked amazed and furious at us, then around. At length the Major rode up to him, and requested him to kill the fowl outright, and put it into his pocket. The Colonel, in his turn, laughed, called his servant, and the millers were no more looked after.

We moved along the heights for two or three miles towards the main body of the army, and lay down in column for a few minutes, until Lord Wellington came up and reconnoitred the movements of the enemy, when we immediately got orders to follow the line of march. We continued to follow for some time, until we came to a place covered over with old ammunition barrels and the wrecks of an army. This was the ground the battle of Salamanca had been fought on. We got not a moment to reflect. The word was given, “Fix bayonets, throw off all lumber;” and we were moved up the hill at double quick time. We pushed up as hard as possible, reached the top almost out of breath, and met the enemy right in front. They were not twenty paces from us. We gave them a volley. Two companies of the German Legion were sent to keep them in play whilst the lines were forming. Two brigades came up at double quick time. We formed in three lines, and forced them to retire. They lost in their flight a great number of men by the fire of our cannon. After dark we withdrew our lines and encamped in a wood. We were in great want of necessaries, having very little bread or beef amongst us, and no water. I set off in quest of some, slung round with canteens belonging to the mess. After searching about for a long time, faint and weary, I was going to give up in despair, and sat down to reflect what I should do. Numbers were moving around looking anxiously for water of any kind—quality was of no moment. I thought I heard a bustle on my right. I leaped up, ran towards it; I heard voices and the croaking of frogs. Tempting sound! I stopped not to reflect. As I drew near, the sound became more distinct; I heard the welcome words, “Water, water.” In I ran, up to the knees amongst mules and men, and putting down my head, drank a sweet draught of it, dirty as it was; then filled my canteens and came off quite happy. The croaking of the frogs was pleasanter music at that time and more welcome than any other sound. When I came to the camp ground I was welcomed with joy. We got our allowance of liquor, and mixed it with the water, then lay down and slept till an hour before day, when we moved on to our old position on the hills. The French lay in column close by Salamanca. We remained there till Lord Wellington perceived the French were endeavouring to get into our rear, to cut off our communications, they being very superior in force. The army received orders to draw up in column and move off in brigades, each brigade in succession; leaving the 71st for the rear guard. I, at this time, got a post, being for fatigue, with other four. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington’s hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time, as we got our own fill while we broke the biscuit, a thing I had not got for some days. When thus engaged, the prodigal son never once was out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the dogs, over my humble situation and ruined hopes. As we followed the army, Colonel Cadogan made us halt in a plain upon ploughed land, where he began to drill us. We were wet and weary, and like to faint with hunger. The ground was so soft from the rain, we could scarce keep the step. The French were coming down from the heights. “Now,” says he, “there they are; if you are not quicker in your movements, I will leave you every one to them.” At this moment General Hill’s aid-de-camp rode up, saying, “Move on and cover the brigade of artillery, by the General’s order, or you will be all prisoners in five minutes.” We immediately left off drill, and marched on until dark, under a heavy rain and over miserable roads, one shoe in our hand, the other on our knapsack. As we entered a wood we were agreeably annoyed by the grunting of hogs and squeaking of pigs. “There is a town here,” says my comrade. We all longed for “pile arms.” At length the word was given, and cooks ordered to cut wood. More cooks than one turned out of each mess, and went in different directions in search of forage. All this time the whole wood resounded with the reports of muskets. It resembled a wood contested by the enemy. At length our cooks returned, one with a pig, another with a skin of wine, or with flour, and we made a hearty supper, and lay down happy and contented. Next morning we continued the line of march under a heavy rain; the horses were scarce able to drag the cannon through the mud. We marched thus, about eight miles, and halted at a village, where we encamped and cooked the remains of our pork. Every one was engaged cooking or cutting wood, when the French made their appearance on the opposite heights. The bugle sounded to fall in; immediately we formed square to receive cavalry. They galloped down close to our square. We had not time to load our pieces; and many of us were only half accoutred, they had come so quick upon us. Many of them were very much in liquor: three or four galloped into the centre of our square; we opened to receive them. A brigade of guns coming to our relief, they put to the right about and fled. We stood under arms for some time. A brigade of French infantry was drawn up on the opposite heights. It being only their advanced guard, Lord Wellington gave orders to pile arms, but to remain accoutred. We stood in this position, the rain pouring upon us, until we were forced to lie down through fatigue. Day at length appearing, we got orders to move on after the army in sections, the enemy having retired through the night. We had not moved thus two miles, until the French advance came down upon us, picking up every individual who fell out. The cries of the women and children were dreadful as we left them. We were retiring in square, playing a howitzer from the centre, to keep their cavalry in check. We continued to move on in this manner, sending out the left company to fire and retire. The rain poured; the roads were knee-deep; when one had to stop all were obliged to stop. Each of the enemy’s cavalry had a foot soldier behind him, who formed when they came close. When we were halted, and advanced to charge, they mounted and retired. At length we forded the Agueda, and encamped on the opposite side. Rear-guards and quarter-guards were immediately sent out, and picquets planted. We were not an hour and a half encamped, when a dreadful firing commenced on our left. We were all under arms in a moment. The firing continued very severe for the space of two hours. We then piled arms, and began to cut wood to lay under us, that the water might run below, as the rain continued to pour in torrents. We might as well have lain in the river. We were up an hour before day, and wrung out our blankets, emptied our shoes of the water, each man trembling like the leaf of a tree. We followed the line of march for about four leagues, and encamped in a plain, expecting to be attacked every moment. The French did not advance this night. Next night we were marched into a town. Serjeants were called out for quarters; and we were put in by sections into the best quarters they could find. This town we called the reeky town; it was the most smoky place I ever was in. The serjeants got two months’ pay for each man; every one had a little. Canteens were immediately in requisition; wine and accadent were the only words you could hear. Three dollars for wine, and one for accadent, made a joyful night and a merry mess. We had no care; the song went round: we were as merry as if we had not suffered in our retreat. The recollection of our wants made our present enjoyments doubly dear. Next morning we did the best we could to clean ourselves, but we made a very shabby figure. Our haversacks were black with grease: we could not get the marks of the pork out, all we could do. Here we remained eight days, then marched to Porto Banyes, where we received a draught of 150 men from England, and staid about eight days, then marched to Monte Moso. We got here a new kitt. Before this we were completely in rags; and it used to be our daily labour to pick the vermin off ourselves. We were quartered in the villages until Colonel Cadogan arrived from England, who inspected and reviewed us in our new clothes. We looked very well. The Colonel told us “we were as fat as fowls.”

During the time the 50th were in Boho, the French made an attempt to surprise it. We were marched up to it at double quick time. We ran up hill for four miles, and were formed in the town, and marched up to the walls, making as great a show as possible. The French stood in column on the opposite side of the town. We had picquets of the 50th posted on the outside. Boho being a town of great trade, the French hoped to get a supply of clothing; but finding they could not succeed they retired, and we went back to our old cantonments. In a few days we relieved the 50th, and marched into Boho; at which place we remained all winter, and until the month of May 1813, when the campaign commenced. I got a most excellent billet; everything was in plenty; fruit in abundance. I was regarded as a son of the family; partook with them at meals; and, if any thing was better than another, my part was in it. I amused myself, when off duty, in teaching the children to read; for which my hosts thought they never could be grateful enough. I have often thought the Spaniards resembled the Scots in their manner of treating their children. How has my heart warmed, when I have seen the father, with his wife by his side, and the children round them, repeating the Lord’s prayer and the 23d Psalm, at evening before they went to bed! Once a week the children were catechised. When I told them they did the same in Scotland, they looked at me with astonishment, and asked “If heretics did so?” The priests often drew comparisons much to our disadvantage from the conduct of our men. They even said every heretic in England was as bad as them.

One afternoon I had walked into the churchyard, and after having wandered through it, I lay down in the shade of the wall, near a grave that appeared to have been lately made. While lying thus, I heard a sob: I looked towards the place whence it came, and perceived a beautiful female kneeling beside a grave, devoutly counting her rosary—her tears falling fast upon the ground. I lay, afraid to move, least the noise might disturb her. She remained for some time, absorbed in devotion; then rose from her knees, and, taking a small jar of holy water, sprinkled the grave, and retired undisturbed by me. I mentioned the circumstance to no one, but, day after day, I was an unperceived witness of this scene. At length she saw me as she approached, and was retiring in haste. I came near her. She stood to let me pass. I said, “My presence shall give you no uneasiness: Adieu!” “Stay,” she said, “are you Don Galves’ good soldier?” I replied, “I live with him.” “Stay, you can feel for me: I have none to feel for, nor advise me. Blessed Virgin, be my friend!” She looked to heaven; her eyes beaming resignation and hope, the tears dropping on her bosom. I stretched out my hand to her: my eyes, I believe, were wet. I did not speak. “None,” she said mournfully, “can again have my hand: I gave it to Francisco.” “‘Tis the hand of friendship.” “I can have no friend but death.—You do not pray for the dead; you cannot pray with me.” I said, “I will listen to your’s.” She then began her usual prayers; then rose and sprinkled the grave with holy water, I inquired, “Whose grave do you water?” “My mother’s.” “How long has she been dead?” “Five years.” “Five years! have you done thus so long?” “Alas, no! my mother had been released[8]; but five weeks ago my mournful task again began; ’tis for Francisco: Adieu.” She sobbed and retired with a hurried step. I dare not embellish, lest this incident should not be credited; but I feel this is a cold account of what passed. I have not taken away, neither have I added a word that did not pass between us. From Galves I learned that Francisco had fallen in a Guerilla party. It is the belief in Spain, that every drop of holy water sprinkled upon the grave, quenches a flame in purgatory.

We had passed the winter in the most agreeable manner: we lived well. The inhabitants were on good terms with us: we had every thing in abundance; and amusements were not wanting. We had bull fights, at which we used to exhibit our powers. Several of our men were hurt. Our horsemen were particularly good bull fighters; and the women used to give them great praise. Often we had dancings in the evening: sometimes we got two or three of our band; and then we had dancing in style. Wine and mirth we never wanted: Music was our great want. The peasants used to dance to the sound of their rattles, consisting of two pieces of hard wood, which they held between their fingers, and by shaking their hands, kept time in the same manner as the boys, in Edinburgh and other parts, play what they call, “cockledum ditt.” They call them castanetts. They have one dance which I never saw in any other place: they call it fandango. I can hardly say it is a dance, for it is scarcely decent. The dancers first run to each other, as if they are looking for one another; then the woman runs away, the man follows: next he runs, and she follows. This they do alternately; all the time using the most expressive gestures, until both seem overcome; when they retire, and another couple take their place. This dance had a great effect upon us; but the Spaniards saw it without being moved, and laughed at the quick breathing and amorous looks of our men.

The winter in Boho was the shortest I ever passed in Spain; yet we remained in that town until May 1813. The only disagreeable thing was, that the wolves, which were very numerous, used to visit us at our advanced posts, when on duty through the night. One night, while on duty at the bridge, I thought I was to have fallen a prey to a very large wolf. My orders were, to be on the alert, and if I heard the least sound, to place my ear upon the ground, to distinguish if it were the tread of men or of horses, and give the alarm. The night was starry, and a little cloudy, when, about half past one o’clock, I could distinguish the tread of an animal. I believed it to be a stray mule, or ass; but at length could distinguish a large wolf, a few yards from the bridge, in the middle of the road, looking full upon me. I levelled my piece, and stood, my eyes fixed on his: I durst not fire, lest I should miss him, and give a false alarm. I expected him every moment to spring upon me. We stood thus looking upon each other, until the tread of the serjeant and guard to relieve me were heard, then the beast scampered off, and relieved me from my disagreeable situation.

May came at length, and we were obliged to leave our kind hosts. I never before felt regret at quitting a town in Spain. That morning we marched, the town was deserted by its inhabitants, who accompanied us a good way; girls weeping and running into the ranks to be protected from their parents, and hanging upon their old acquaintances; parents tearing away and scolding their children; soldiers and inhabitants singing or exchanging adieus. Almost every man had his handkerchief on the muzzle of his firelock. Don Galves’ children, weeping, took leave of me. I never saw them again. May God bless them! At length we were left to reflect upon our absent friends, and commence the toils of war afresh. We lay in camp until the whole army joined; then were reviewed by Lord Wellington, and received orders to take the line of march, and follow the enemy. We marched over a great part of Spain, quite across the country; many parts of which were very beautiful, more particularly that before we crossed the Ebro. But we were so harassed by fatigue, in our long marches, that we never left the camp; and were too weary to pay much attention to any thing that did not relieve our wants. We continued to advance until the 20th of June, when, reaching the neighbourhood of Vittoria, we encamped upon the face of a hill. Provisions were very scarce. We had not a bit of tobacco, and were smoking leaves and herbs. Colonel Cadogan rode away and got us half a pound of tobacco a man, which was most welcome. Next morning we got up as usual. The first piper played for parade; the second did not play at the usual time. We began to suspect all was not right. We remained thus until eleven o’clock, then received orders to fall in and follow the line of march. During our march we fell to one side, to allow a brigade, of guns to pass us at full speed. “Now,” said my comrades, “we will have work to do before night.” We crossed a river, and as we passed through a village, we saw, on the other side of the road, the French camp, and their fires still burning just as they had left them. Not a shot had been fired at this time. We observed a large Spanish column moving along the heights on our right. We halted and drew up in column. Orders were given to brush out our locks, oil them, and examine our flints; we being in the rear. These were soon followed by orders to open out from the centre, to allow the 71st to advance. Forward we moved up the hill. The firing was now very heavy. Our rear had not engaged before word came for the Doctor to assist Colonel Cadogan, who was wounded. Immediately we charged up the hill, the piper playing, “Hey Johnny Cope.” The French had possession of the top, but we soon forced them back, and drew up in column on the height; sending out four companies to our left to skirmish. The remainder moved on to the opposite height. As we advanced, driving them before us, a French officer, a pretty fellow, was pricking and forcing his men to stand. They heeded him not,—he was very harsh:—“Down with him!” cried one near me; and down he fell, pierced by more than one ball. Scarce were we upon the height, when a heavy column, dressed in great-coats, with white covers on their hats, exactly resembling the Spanish, gave us a volley, which put us to the right about at double quick time down the hill, the French close behind, through the whins. The four companies got the word, the French were on them. They likewise thought them Spaniards, until they got a volley that killed or wounded almost every one of them. We retired to the height covered by the 50th, who gave the pursuing column a volley which checked their speed. We moved up the remains of our shattered regiment to the height. Being in great want of ammunition, we were again served with sixty rounds a man, and kept up our fire for some time, until the bugle sounded to cease firing. We lay on the height for some time. Our drought was excessive; there was no water upon the height, save one small spring, which was rendered useless. One of our men, in the heat of the action, called out he would have a drink, let the world go as it would. He stooped to drink; a ball pierced his head—he fell with it in the well, which was discoloured by brains and blood. Thirsty as we were, we could not taste it. At this time, the Major had the command, our second Colonel being wounded. There were not 300 of us on the height able to do duty, out of above 1000 who drew rations in the morning. The cries of the wounded were most heart-rending. The French, on the opposite height, were getting under arms: we could give no assistance, as the enemy appeared to be six to one of us. Our orders were to maintain the height while there was a man of us. The word was given to shoulder arms. The French, at the same moment, got under arms. The engagement began in the plains: the French were amazed, and soon put to the right about through Vittoria. We followed as quick as our weary limbs would carry us. Our legs were full of thorns, and our feet bruised upon the roots of the trees. Coming to a bean field at the bottom of the heights, immediately the column was broke, and every man filled his haversack. We continued to advance until it was dark, and then encamped on a height above Vittoria. This was the dullest encampment I ever made. We had left 700 men behind,—none spoke—each hung his head, mourning the loss of a friend and comrade. About twelve o’clock, a man of each company was sent to receive half a pound of flour for each man, at the rate of our morning’s strength; so that there was more than could be used by those who had escaped. I had fired 108 rounds this day. Next morning we awoke, dull, stiff, and weary. I could scarce touch my head with my right hand—my shoulder was as black as, coal. We washed out our firelocks, and moved on again about twelve o’clock in the line of march.

Towards the afternoon of 22d, the day after the battle of Vittoria, a great number of our men joined, who had made their escape, after being taken the day before. We encamped and passed a night of congratulation; mutual hardships made us all brothers. The slain were forgot in our joy for those we had gained thus unexpectedly. Next morning, we made a more respectable appearance on parade, being now about 800 strong. The day following we continued our march. In the afternoon, we had a dreadful storm of thunder and rain. A Portuguese officer and his horse were killed by it. We encamped upon the face of a hill, the rain continuing to pour. The storm not abating, we could not get our tents up, and were exposed all night to its violence.

Next day we arrived before Pamplona, where we lay for some time. One night we were ordered under arms at twelve o’clock; the report was, that Pamplona was to be stormed. We marched until day-break, then drew up in a hollow in the rear of the town, when we got orders to fall back to our old camp ground. Soon after we were relieved by a division of Spanish, and marched towards the Pyrenees, where we soon fell in with our old play-fellows the French, and had a very severe skirmish in the front of the village of Maya. The regiment was divided into two columns; the right commanded by Major Walker, the left by Major M‘Kenzie. We remained under arms all night, the French keeping up their fire. Next morning we forced them over the heights, into their own country, in style; then encamped. Fatigue parties were called to make rows and rain-works. Our two rear companies were appointed to move to the heights in the rear, upon the first alarm, and maintain them while a man should remain. The signal was three great guns; on the report of the first of which every man was to stand to his arms. One day we sent out a fatigue party, to cut wood to make arm-racks. They were not come back when a gun was fired. We stood to our arms, making ready to engage. It was a false alarm. Our fatigue parties were out for forage, and we were busy cooking, when the signal was given on the 25th July. The two rear companies, moved to the heights, the rest of the regiment to the alarm post, where we had work enough upon our arrival. The French were in great force, moving up the heights in solid column. We killed great numbers of them in their advance; but they still moved on. We were forced to give way, and continued thus to retire, maintaining every height to the last, contesting every foot of ground. At length we were forced to the height where our old quarter-guard used to be posted. We maintained our position against them a considerable time; during which, we had the mortification to see the French making merry in our camp, eating the dinner we had cooked for ourselves. What could we do? they were so much superior in numbers.

I have often admired the bravery of the French officers. This day, while I was in the rear-guard, covering the retreat, about two dozen of us were pursued and molested by a company of the French. Out of breath, and unable to run farther, we cried, “Let us make a stand and get breath, else we will never reach the top.” “Take your will,” returned the officers. Immediately we faced about—the French halted—their officers pricked them on. We formed front, across the road, and charged;—the French officers in the rear, urging their troops forward. All would not do—the men forced their officers fairly over the hill and ran. We had what we wished—an unmolested retreat—and moved slowly up the height. We were then joined by a brigade of Brunswickers,—gave three cheers, and charged the French along the heights, keeping up our fire till dark. A part of the regiment made fires, while the remainder kept their ground upon the main height, until about twelve o’clock. We then marched off towards the Black Forest, leaving our wounded, whose cries were piercing; but we could not help them. Numbers continued to follow us, crawling on their hands and knees, filling the air with their groans. Many, who could not do so, held out their hands, supplicating to be taken with us. We tore ourselves away, and hurried to get out of sight. We could not bear it.

The roads were very bad, the rain continued to pour, and we made but little way. At day-break we formed on the outside of Maya, and got orders to cook; but scarce had we begun when the French made their appearance. We immediately moved on to a stronger height on the opposite side, and encamped. Here we got three days’ allowance of beef and bread served out to each man, and an allowance of liquor. As soon as cooking was over, we marched on to the Black Forest, and never halted, until two o’clock in the morning. The night was dark and stormy. The wounded officers were carried in blankets on the shoulders of the men, and the wounded soldiers, who had been enabled still to keep up with us, made the heart bleed at their cries; while the forcing up of the baggage caused such a noise, that the whole was a scene of misery and confusion. We halted to allow the baggage to get forward. Shortly after day-light the French advance came up with our rear-guard, consisting of a brigade of Portuguese, which continued to skirmish all the way through the forest. We lost a great number of men in this forest, unable to keep up through illness and fatigue, and not a few from the effects of liquor. It was found necessary to stave the stores of liquor; and the men were carrying it away in their bonnets. Many were intoxicated, and carried upon the shoulders of their comrades. We at length got out of the forest and encamped. Picquets were posted, and we began to cook; but we had scarcely commenced when the French were again upon us. The camp was moved, and we marched until two hours after dark. We were then drawn up in column, and lay down on the bare ground until next morning. The French moved about two miles, and then turned off on their left towards Pamplona, thinking there was nothing to stop them. We remained here until morning: day was scarce broke when we heard three guns fired towards our right. All were under arms in a moment, and we stood in this situation a considerable time. The noise of artillery and musketry was incessant on our right, but towards the afternoon the firing ceased, and the French were forced from the heights opposite Pamplona. After Lord Wellington had defeated them, they retreated by our right. We got orders to occupy a height in the wood. Two companies were sent at extended order down the wood, where we were not long before the enemy began to appear; and the firing commenced with their skirmishers. After doing our utmost for some time, we were forced to retire to the top of the height; and, when we arrived upon it, they were so numerous, it was vain to contend. We gave them two or three volleys, and retired through a small village, they following close in the rear. Then we drew up along the side of a strong rock, close by the main road, determined to defend it to the last. Lord Wellington sent a division to our assistance. The enemy seeing them approach, drew up and continued to annoy us for some time; then fell back upon the village and encamped. There were some fine fields of grain here, which they set fire to. We lay down fatigued and weary, having been constantly engaged almost the whole afternoon. Next morning, the 5th of August, the enemy began to retire, we following close at their heels through the Black Forest. They retired back into France. We halted upon our old camp ground for the space of half an hour, and then returned to our old quarters at Maya. We were very melancholy, the whole bringing to our minds the time when we last left it, and our wounded and dying comrades. After encamping on a height on the other side for two or three days, we were marched round to the heights of Roncesvalles, where we encamped, relieving a brigade of the 7th division. We lay here for a considerable time, working like galley slaves, from morning till evening, in building batteries and blockhouses. All the time I had been a soldier, my labour could not stand in the least comparison with my fatigues at this time. Orders were given that the heights should be kept by the 3d and 4th division, week about, (alternately.) We retired, moving down, and encamped on the other side of the village. A short time afterwards, we got orders for duty on the heights on the opposite side,—of which we were glad, thinking that the work would not be so severe. But we were disagreeably undeceived. Our labour was incessant; every day we were either on guard or on fatigue. All the time we remained here, we were not a night in bed out of two: besides, the weather was dreadful; we had always either snow or hail, the hail often as large as nuts. We were forced to put our knapsacks on our heads, to protect us from its violence. The mules, at these times, used to run crying up and down, hurt by the stones. The frost was most severe, accompanied by high winds. Often, for whole days and nights, we could not get a tent to stand. Many of us were frost-bitten, and others were found dead at their posts. At this time I cursed my hard fate, and groaned over my folly. Frequently have I been awakened, through the night, by the sobs of those around me in the tent; more especially, by the young soldiers, who had not been long from their mothers’ fire-sides. They often spent the darkness of the night in tears. The weather was so dreadful, the 92d regiment got grey trousers served out to them; they could not live with their kilts,—the cold would have killed them. In about two days after we went down to the valley, the day being good, the French came down from the heights nearest France. General Stewart being there at the same time with our advanced post, and seeing their manœuvres, ordered us to advance towards them. We soon beat them back, and retired to our post. A few days afterwards, the weather was so very bad, that great numbers of the men fell sick. We were then forced to leave the heights and encamp in the valley, leaving strong picquets in the block-houses on the main pass, which were relieved daily. Fatigue parties were sent up to work, nevertheless, every day the weather would permit. At this time we buried two guns of Captain Mitchell’s brigade of artillery, which displeased him much. Through intercession, General Stewart ordered up a fatigue party to raise them again. We were covered by the picquets, and, with great difficulty, at length got them raised and brought down to the valley. Each man on fatigue got an extra allowance of grog, the only welcome recompence.

We lay here for some time, frequently attacked in the block-houses by the French, and at length received orders to leave our purgatory in the heights, and move round towards Maya. We marched that whole afternoon and all night, until next morning; when the whole army formed on the other side of Maya. We were appointed the brigade of reserve, being far in the rear and very much fatigued. An attack was begun, almost as soon as we arrived. We moved towards the enemy’s works, which were very strong; but we forced them out, then moved round to our own right, the remainder of the army pursuing them. Their camp-ground, which was hutted like a little town, was occupied by us during the night.

November 10.—We, next morning, continued to move to our own right until we came to a village called Cambo, on the outside of which the enemy had batteries planted, and strong works. We kept up a severe fire for some time, but could not storm their works on account of the depth of the entrenchments. They found out that the Spanish troops, under Morillo, were fording the river on their right. We retired back into camp, and lay there two days: the weather was so bad we could not move out.

On the afternoon they blew up the bridge over the Nive, and retired out of the town. We then marched into it and were cantoned, and lay there for a considerable time, the French on one side and we on the other; our sentinel and their’s, on the bridge, not five yards asunder. The night before we crossed, the French came down to the banks of the river, with their music, and gave us a tune or two. We thought to change their tune before next night. We were then to be all under arms at a minute’s notice. About nine o’clock, the whole of our in-lying picquets were called to cover a party of sappers and miners, in raising a battery to cover our fording ground; and the sentinel on the broken bridge received orders to shoot the French sentinel, on the first gun for alarm being fired. Both were walking from one parapet to another,—the Frenchman unconscious of any unusual danger,—the English sentinel listening, and often looking to the victim; his heart revolting from the deed he dared not disobey. The match touched the signal gun; next moment the French sentinel fell into the river, pierced by a ball. As soon as the sappers and miners had constructed the battery, we moved back into the town, and remained until an hour before day. We were drawn up on our fording ground;—orders were given that not a man should speak above his breath. The whole being prepared,—the word was given to pass the river when three guns were fired on our left. Our right wing was sent out to cover the fording. The left forded the river; but we had not reached the opposite bank, when we received a volley from the enemy’s picquets. We gave three cheers,—splashed through the water; they retired, and we pursued them. The regiment formed upon the top of the height, sending out two companies to follow the enemy close; but they never came up with them.

All the night of the 11th of December, we lay in camp upon the face of a height near the Spaniards. In the afternoon of the 12th, we received orders to move round towards Bayonne, where we were quartered along the main road. There we remained a few days, until we received orders to march to our own right to assist a Spanish force who were engaged with superior numbers. We set off by day-light, in the morning of the 13th, towards them, and were moving on when General Hill sent an aid-de-camp after us, saying, “That is not the direction,—follow me.” We put to the right-about, to the main road towards Bayonne. We soon came to the scene of action, and were immediately engaged. We had continued firing, without intermission, for five hours, advancing and retreating, and lost a great number of men, but could not gain a bit of ground. Towards evening we were relieved by a brigade which belonged to another division. As many of us as could be collected were drawn up. General Hill gave us great praise for our behaviour this day, and ordered an extra allowance of liquor to each man. We were marched back to our old quarters along the road side. The day’s service had been very severe, but now I took it with the coolest indifference; I felt no alarm; it was all of course. I began to think my body charmed. My mind had come to that pass—I took every thing as it came without a thought. If I was at ease, with plenty, I was happy: If in the midst of the enemy’s fire, or of the greatest privations, I was not concerned. I had been in so many changes of plenty and want, ease and danger, they had ceased to be anticipated either with joy or fear.

We lay upon the road-side for two or three days, having two companies, three leagues to the rear, carrying the wounded to the hospital. We were next cantoned three leagues above Bayonne, along the side of the river. We had strong picquets planted along the banks. The French were cantoned upon the other side. Never a night passed that we were not molested by boats passing up and down the river with provisions and necessaries to the town. Our orders were to turn out, and keep up a constant fire upon them while passing. We had two grasshopper guns planted upon the side of the river, by means of which we one night sunk a boat loaded with clothing for the army, setting it on fire with red hot shot. Next day we were encamped in the rear of the town, being relieved by a brigade of Portuguese. We remained in camp two or three days, expecting to be attacked, the enemy having crossed above us on the river. We posted picquets in the town near our camp. At length receiving orders to march, we moved on until we came to a river on our right, which ran very swift. Part of the regiment having crossed, we got orders to come to the right-about, and were marched back to our old camp ground. Next morning we received orders to take another road towards Salvatero, where we encamped that night, and remained until the whole army assembled the following day. About two o’clock in the afternoon we were under arms, and moved towards the river, covered by a brigade of artillery. We forded, and continued to skirmish alongst the heights until the town was taken. We lost only one man during the whole time. We encamped upon the other side of the town; and next morning, followed the line of march, until we came before a town called Aris. We had severe fighting before we got into it. We were led on by an aid-de-camp. The contest lasted until after dark. We planted picquets in different streets of the town; the enemy did the same in others. Different patroles were sent out, during the night; but the French were always found on the alert. They retired before day-light; and we marched into the town, with our music at the head of the regiments. The town appeared then quite desolate, not worth twopence; but we were not three days in it until the French inhabitants came back, opened their shops and houses, and it became a fine lively place. There was a good deal of plundering the first night; for the soldiers going into the houses, and finding no person within, helped themselves. The people have a way of keeping their fowls in cans, full of grease, about the size of a hen. This we found out by accident; for, wanting some grease to fry in cooking, we took one of these cans, and cut out the fowl. We commenced a search for the grease cans, and were very successful. The fowls were excellent. We lay here a considerable time, then were marched towards Toulouse, and halted at a village four leagues from it, with orders to turn out on a moment’s notice. We were drawn out at twelve o’clock at night, and marched close up to the town, designing to throw a bridge over the river; but it ran so swift, that we failed in our attempt. We then kindled fires in all quarters, and returned to the village. Next morning we marched round towards the main road to Toulouse, and were cantoned along the road. We lay here for some time, and were, every morning, under arms an hour before day. At length, on the 10th of April, we received orders to attack Toulouse, and moved on by another road, on the opposite side from the one we had lain upon. We were drawn up in column, in rear of a house, and remained there for some time, sending out the flank companies to skirmish; and, at length, forced the enemy back upon their works. The contest now began to be more severe. A brigade of guns coming up, played upon their works for some time, and then retired, night coming on. We were posted in the different streets of the suburbs, to watch the enemy’s motions. At last we got our allowance of liquor served out, and retired to our cantonment.

I shall ever remember an adventure that happened to me towards the afternoon. We were in extended order, firing and retiring. I had just risen to run behind my file, when a spent shot struck me on the groin, and took the breath from me. “God receive my soul!” I said; and sat down resigned. The French were advancing fast. I laid my musket down, and gasped for breath. I was sick, and put my canteen to my head, but could not taste the water: however, I washed my mouth, and grew less faint. I looked to my thigh, and seeing no blood, took resolution to put my hand to the part to feel the wound. My hand was unstained by blood; but the part was so painful that I could not touch it. At this moment of helplessness the French came up. One of them made a charge at me, as I sat pale as death. In another moment I would have been transfixed, had not his next man forced the point past me: “Do not touch the good Scot,” said he; and then, addressing himself to me, added, “Do you remember me?” I had not recovered my breath sufficiently to speak distinctly: I answered, “No."—“I saw you at Sobral,” he replied. Immediately I recognized him to be a soldier whose life I had saved from a Portuguese, who was going to kill him as he lay wounded. “Yes I know you,” I replied. “God bless you!” cried he; and giving me a pancake out of his hat, moved on with his fellows, the rear of whom took my knapsack, and left me lying. I had fallen down for greater security. I soon recovered so far as to walk, though with pain, and joined the regiment, next advance. We were quartered in wine stores, where we lay for a considerable time, sending out a regiment, each night, on duty. The 71st happened to be the regiment on duty, on the night in which the French evacuated Toulouse. We immediately gave notice, and marched into the town; halted half an hour, until the cavalry passed through it, and then moved on after them. We fell in with a number of the enemy’s sick and wounded, whom we sent back to the town. We halted at Villa Franca, and were cantoned. Soult lay in a town on the heights, in front, about one league and a half from us. We remained here two or three days; when we were all turned out, cavalry and artillery, the French being under arms. Three guns were fired. The French did not seem inclined to attack us. We were encamped again. In the course of the day, flags of truce were passing between the armies. At length, General Soult came in his carriage, guarded by a squadron of his cavalry. We then got word that Buonaparte was deposed, and we were soon to have peace. Joy beamed on every face, and made every tongue eloquent. We sung and drank that whole night, and talked of home. Next morning falling back to Toulouse, we were cantoned there, and lay for a long time, looking anxiously for orders to embark for England. At length we marched to Bourdeaux, were reviewed by Lord Wellington, and embarked for Ireland.

We arrived at Cork in June 1814. I had now been seven years and eleven months a soldier, and, therefore, hoped for my discharge. I had still one year to serve, although enlisted for seven. Being only sixteen years of age, my seven years were counted from my eighteenth. Had I called myself seventeen, I should have now been free: but I scorned to lie; neither was I aware of this circumstance. Upon our arrival at Cork, we were marched to Limerick, and lay there a long time; then got the route for Cork to embark for America. I wanted but a few months to be free. I sought my discharge, but was refused. I was almost tempted to desert. I lamented my becoming a soldier at this time more than I had done on the retreat, or upon the Pyrennees. To be so near home and almost free, and yet to be sent across the Atlantic, was very galling. I knew not what to do. I kept my honour, and embarked. What vexed me, was some being discharged who had not been so long soldiers as I had been; only they were above eighteen when they enlisted.

We lay on board six weeks before setting sail. When on our way, a schooner fired a gun and brought us to, and gave us orders for Deal. My heart bounded with joy: “Freedom, freedom!"—I would not have taken a thousand pounds to stay,—I would have left the army without a shirt. I was oppressed all the time I was on board; my mind dwelt on nothing but home. If any one asked a question or spoke to me, I was so absent that I seldom answered to the point. After the ship was put about for England, a load was taken from my mind, and I became more happy. We landed all our heavy baggage at Deal, then sailed round to Gravesend and disembarked. We lay there only one afternoon, then were put on board the smacks, and were landed at Antwerp.

Next morning we were marched to Louis, where we lay, quartered in the different villages around, until the 16th of June, 1815. We used to be drilled every day. We were going out, for a field day, on the 16th, when we were ordered back and formed on one side of the village. We stopped here a short time; then were sent to quarters to pack up every thing and march. We immediately marched off towards the French frontier. We had a very severe march of sixteen miles, expecting to halt and be quartered in every town through which we passed. We knew not where we were marching. About one o’clock in the morning, we were halted in a village. A brigade of Brunswickers marching out, we took their quarters, hungry and weary. Next morning, the 17th, we got our allowance of liquor, and moved on until the heat of the day; when we encamped, and our baggage was ordered to take the high road to Brussels. We sent out fatigue parties for water, and set a cooking. Our fires were not well kindled, when we got orders to fall in, and move on along the high road towards Waterloo. The whole length of the road was very much crowded by artillery and ammunition carts, all advancing towards Waterloo. The troops were much embarrassed in marching, the roads were so crowded. As soon as we arrived on the ground, we formed in column. The rain began to pour. The firing had never ceased all yesterday and to day, at a distance. We encamped and began to cook; when the enemy came in sight, and again spoiled our cooking. We advanced towards them. When we reached the height they retired; which caused the whole army to get under arms and move to their positions. Night coming on, we stood under arms for some time. The army then retired to their own rear, and lay down under arms, leaving the 71st in advance. During the whole night, the rain never ceased. Two hours after day-break, General Hill came down, taking away the left subdivision of the 10th company to cover his recognisance. Shortly afterwards we got half an allowance of liquor, which was the most welcome thing I ever received. I was so stiff and sore from the rain, I could not move with freedom for some time. A little afterwards the weather clearing up, we began to clean our arms and prepare for action. The whole of the opposite heights were, covered by the enemy.