Old Trowsers—Sleeping and waking—O’Hare again—Colonel Beckwith—Two upon one—Meagher—Barba del Puerco—General Crauford taken by surprise—The Portuguese incorporation with the light division—Rodrigo—Gallegos—The Beacon night scenes on picquet—Lord Wellington—Napoleon’s Marriage—Crauford’s stratagem—The French spy—We retreat to Fort Conception.

I rejoined my regiment at Barba del Puerco, a small village near the banks of the river Coa, on the other side of which the enemy had taken up their position. Our regiment was cantoned in the surrounding villages, while nightly we mounted a captain’s picquet on a height facing a bridge, on the other side of which the French had thrown out their advanced sentry. Two of our sentries were posted on the bridge, while a third was stationed half-way down the steep, to keep up the communication with our picquet above.

On the 19th of May, the company to which I belonged was on picquet. It was a fine, though windy night, a fleecy scud occasionally obscuring the light of the moon. About twelve o’clock, while our men were mostly asleep, we were suddenly woke by the rifle reports of our sentries, and the French drums playing their advance “rub-a-dub-dub,” which our men designated with the name of “old trowsers.” I was now, as it were, but a young sleepy-headed boy, and as yet had been scarcely aroused to a true sense of the profession I had embraced. I had never been under the fire of a French musket, and I felt an indescribable thrill on this occasion. The chilly hour of the night and peculiar inclination to sleep, at the time, had sunk my senses below zero. But I was speedily startled out of my lethargy by the whizzing of the enemies’ bullets, as they greeted my astonished hearing. My surprise soon, however, gave place to perfect recollection, and in less than a minute we were all under arms, the balls of the French whistling about us as a column came rushing over the bridge to force our position. Captain O’Hare, with his characteristic coolness, immediately gave us the word to “seek cover,” and we threw ourselves forward among the rocky and broken ground, from whence we kept up a galling fire upon those who had commenced storming our heights.

We were exceedingly hard pressed when three companies of our regiment, under Colonel Beckwith, came up to our relief, and the contest for a while was both doubtful and bloody. But, after about half an hour’s hard fighting, the enemy were obliged to retreat with much precipitation, and under a close and murderous fire from us. During this brief conflict some incidents occurred that, perhaps, are worth mentioning. Colonel Beckwith actually employed himself, at one time, in heaving large fragments of stone upon the French as they attempted to ascend the acclivity on which we were placed, and, while so engaged, got a musket-shot through his cap.

Another officer of ours, the Adjutant Lieutenant Stewart, a fine tall fellow, was engaged in a personal contest with two or three grenadiers, a number of whom had managed to ascend the hill on our right; at this critical moment one of our men, named Ballard, fortunately came to his aid, and shot one of his assailants, at which the other instantly surrendered. The above gallant officer, however, afterwards fell on our advance from Santarem the following year.

This was, I believe, the first and last time the French ever attempted surprising a rifle picquet.

Both our sentries at the bridge were taken prisoners, one of them badly wounded. A rather interesting recollection is attached to one of them, named Meagher, who, when the exchange of prisoners took place in 1814, returned to England and rejoined us at Dover. He was with us in France at the time of Waterloo, which, however, he was not present at on account of the following circumstance.

A quarrel had originated a few nights before the battle of Waterloo in a wine-house at Brussels, between some of our men, and the Belgian gens-d’armes, the consequence was, that the inhabitants were forced to send for the guards. These, of course, were soon on the spot, but were as soon attacked and beaten back by the Belgians, who would have driven them into the guard-house but for Meagher, who, suddenly turning to the assailants, levelled his rifle and shot the foremost through the body; on this, the whole of the gens-d’armes retreated, not, however, till after Meagher had received a cut on the side of the neck. For this affair he was put into prison, and a general court-martial honourably acquitted him, not until that battle had been fought which for ever destroyed Napoleon’s hopes. Our company, to which Meagher belonged, soon after presented a requisition to Captain Leach, who then commanded us, and through his intercession, Meagher obtained a Waterloo medal.

Shortly after this attempted surprise, we quitted Barba del Puerco for the town of Gallegos, situated some five or six miles from Ciudad Rodrigo.

The following laughable incident occurred to me while we lay at Gallegos:—I happened to be acquainted with General Crauford’s private servant, a German, chiefly through my being employed as orderly to the brigadier. At times when an opportunity offered, we used to take a glass of wine together upon the most convivial terms. One morning, however, when I thought the brigadier had gone out, as was his usual custom, I went to his room to ask the valet to partake of some wine which I had received from the patron of the house. On opening the door, I unhesitatingly went in, and beheld, as I imagined, the individual I wanted in a morning-gown looking out of the window. It entered into my head to surprise my servant friend, so, as he had not been disturbed by my approach, I stepped softly up to his rear, and with a sudden laugh, gave him a smart slap on the back. But my consternation and surprise may be better imagined than described, when the gentleman in the dressing-gown, starting round with a “Who the devil is that?” disclosed—not the merry phiz of the valet, but the stern features of General Crauford himself.

I thought I should have sunk through the ground at the moment, had it have opened to swallow me. I could only attempt to explain the mistake I had made, in a very humble way, as I gradually retreated to the door.

“And where did you get the wine from, Sir?” inquired the General, with a good-humoured smile; for he observed the fright I was in.

I informed him.

“Well, well, you may go,” said the General; “but, pray, Sir, never again do me the honour to take me for my servant.”

I needed not the permission to vanish in a moment. And many a laugh and jest were created at my expense afterwards among the men, as the circumstance got circulated by the valet.

We were here joined by the 1st and 3rd regiment of the Portuguese CaÇadores. These fellows I never had any opinion of from the very first moment I saw them. They were the dirtiest and noisiest brutes I ever came across. Historians of the day have given them great credit; but during the whole of the Peninsular War, or, at least, the time they were with us, I never knew them to perform one gallant act. On the line of march they often reminded me of a band of strollers. They were very fond of gambling, and every halt we made was sure to find them squatted, and with cards in their hands.

One of these regiments was placed under the command of a captain of ours, named Elder, a brave officer, who was made Colonel of the 3rd; and being afterwards severely wounded at Badajos, returned to England; at the same period, also, we were incorporated with the 14th and 16th Light Dragoons, together with the 3rd regiment of German Hussars, and Captain Bull’s troop of horse artillery.

The French had now commenced laying siege to Rodrigo, and we were terribly harassed by the severity of our duty, being both day and night accoutred and under arms; indeed, we were daily expecting an attack.

A section of our rifles usually mounted picquet with a troop of dragoons, and occupied, accordingly, three different points—Carpio, Molina dos Flores and Marialva; all about two miles nearer to Rodrigo. Bull’s troop of artillery remained always near a church, in the centre of the village of Gallegos, and at all times kept a gun ready loaded with blank carriage, and a sentry near it, watching a beacon erected on a hill, about a mile from the village. A vidette and one of our riflemen were placed near the beacon in case of the picquets being attacked, to give alarm by discharging his piece into the combustibles, and so setting it on fire; or, in case of its not igniting, to ride round it three times, with his cap mounted on his sword, at which signal the gun was instantly fired, and the whole division were immediately under arms.

As I have remarked, we were greatly harassed; our picquets and the French were constantly in the habit of firing at each other, and scarce a day passed without some of the men being brought in, either killed or wounded. We had not yet established that understanding with the enemy, which avoided unnecessary bloodshed at the outposts which afterwards tended much to humanize the war.

Meanwhile the siege of Rodrigo was vigorously carried on by the French. The weather was intensely hot, and we delighted in bathing in a small river that flowed between the beacon-hill and the village. Many of us, while so amusing ourselves, would take these opportunities to wash our shirts in the running stream, laying them out to dry on the sand. Frequently, however, when thus employed, the alarm gun would be fired, and in a moment we might be observed, like so many water sprites, jumping out of the stream and hurrying on the wet shirts, actually wringing, and throwing them over our shoulders, while we fell in with our comrades. It was rather surprising, that I never felt any ill effects from these wet habiliments; but the men, from constant exposure, had become as hardy as the soil itself.

From the novelty, however, of the picquet duty, the men preferred it always to any other: as we amused ourselves generally at night watching the shells exchanged between the besieged and the assailants, the sight was very beautiful, sometimes as many as seven or eight-and-twenty crossing each other, like so many comets.

Once we were visited by the Duke himself, who, although his head-quarters were at the time, I believe, at Viseu, distant somewhat about twenty leagues, had come on a reconnoitring excursion to our outline picquets. While on sentry one day I recollect his Grace placing his telescope on my shoulders to take a view of the enemy’s position. Our intelligence was chiefly derived from deserters, a number of whom daily came over to us, and gave information that Ciudad could not hold out much longer.

One day we were unusually alarmed by an extraordinary bustle in the French camp; being on the advanced picquet, I could distinctly hear the cheering of men and firing of cannon: the whole of our division was ordered to fall in, and it was not until the morning following, that we learned that it originated in the news from Paris, of the Emperor’s marriage with the Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria.

We now daily held ourselves in expectation of an attack, and were under arms every morning at one o’clock, five minutes only being allowed for the whole division to fall in. But we seldom took our accoutrements off, and used both to sleep and to cook with them on. The baggage was paraded every morning half a mile to the rear, and every other precaution taken by the Brigadier for an orderly retreat, as the French were in our front and in overwhelming force, while our division was scarcely more than four thousand strong. One of the General’s stratagems to make our small force appear more numerous in the eyes of the French, was to draw the regiments up in rank entire. After, however, several months of severe hardship at Gallegos, General Crauford was at last obliged to change his ground, and we retreated to Allameda, a little town about two miles in our rear, and on the main road leading to the fortified town of Almeida: we remained here a few days, and took a French spy, who had passed among us as a lemonade-merchant. His indifference and carelessness in accepting remuneration for his beverage, which was in constant request, together with his laughing one day very significantly when one of our men was swearing at the French for the trouble they caused, induced a sergeant to apprehend him. He was brought before General Crauford, and on his being searched, letters were found upon him that proved him to be a French Colonel. He was sent to the rear: how, indeed, he managed to escape the doom he had rendered himself liable to, I know not.

A few mornings after this, the French came down in great force, and we were obliged to retire. This we did slowly, covered by Captain Ross’s guns and our rifles, assisted also by a few troops of the 14th and 16th Dragoons and 3rd German Hussars. We retired with very little loss, for a distance of four or five miles, to Fort Conception in front of the little town of Villa de Mula. Here we went into cantonments. We were now close on the borders of Portugal, which is here divided from Spain only by a small stream—at this spot, so narrow, that in some places it may be jumped over. We daily mounted a picquet of two companies at the fort, which was a beautiful work, in the shape of a star.