RECOLLECTIONS OF RIFLEMAN HARRIS, (OLD 95th.) WITH title EDITED BY HENRY CURLING, Esq., HALF-PAY 52D FOOT, AUTHOR OF "JOHN OF ENGLAND." "This story LONDON: 1848. CLAYTON AND CO, PRINTERS, NOTICE Since the printing of this volume was commenced, "Rifleman Harris" has removed from Richmond Street, Soho, to 4, Upper James Street, Golden Square. TO THE MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OF LONDONDERRY, G.C.B. and G.C.H., COLONEL OF THE SECOND LIFE GUARDS, &c. &c., This Volume, IN TOKEN OF HIGH ADMIRATION OF HIS LORDSHIP'S BY HIS OBEDIENT SERVANT, THE EDITOR. London, March, 1848. ADVERTISEMENT BY THE EDITOR. The following pages, describing the chequered life of a private soldier, who served during the most glorious period of our military history, speak so plainly for themselves, as scarcely to need any introductory remarks from the editor, further than the assurance of his own sincere conviction of their truth. Such works as the narratives of Rifleman Harris, from the very nature of their details, afford occasionally more graphic sketches of the actual scenes of war, in its stern realities and concomitant circumstances, than the more stately and largely-grouped pictures of the Historian. Nor are these humble records without their moral. Many abuses and grievances are incidentally brought to light, that can be but rarely heeded in the excitement and bustle of active service, but which, nevertheless, for the good of the soldier, may be of sufficient importance to require correction. The main source of our military superiority over foreign nations has been almost universally ascribed to the incomparable discipline of the British army. That the well-being and judicious treatment of the private soldier is the basis of this system can (we think) scarcely be doubted. To maintain this discipline it is surely incumbent on the officers to become acquainted with the nature and peculiar characteristics of the men they have to conduct and control, both in the elation of victory and the more difficult emergencies consequent upon retreat. How this is best effected—by what potent influence this mastery is exercised—and by what sort of standard the "rough and ready" private soldier estimates, and accordingly respects and obeys his officer, will be duly shewn in the autobiography of. Rifleman Harris. Henry Curling. RECOLLECTIONS OF RIFLEMAN HARRIS (Old 95th). CHAPTER I.
My father was a shepherd, and I was a sheep-boy from my earliest youth. Indeed, as soon almost as I could run, I began helping my father to look after the sheep on the downs of Blandford, in Dorsetshire, where I was born. Whilst I continued to tend the flocks and herds under my charge, and occasionally (in the long winter nights) to learn the art of making shoes, I grew a hardy little chap, and was one fine day in the year 1802, drawn as a soldier for the Army of Reserve. Thus, without troubling myself much about the change which was to take place in the hitherto quiet routine of my days, I was drafted into the 66th Regiment of Foot, bid good-bye to my shepherd companions, and was obliged to leave my father without an assistant to collect his flocks, just as he was beginning more than ever to require one; nay, indeed, I may say to want tending and looking after himself, for old age and infirmity were coming on him; his hair was growing as white as the sleet of our downs, and his countenance becoming as furrowed as the ploughed fields around. However, as I had no choice in the matter, it was quite as well that I did not grieve over my fate. My father tried hard to buy me off, and would have persuaded the Serjeant of the 66th that I was of no use as a soldier, from having maimed my right hand (by breaking the fore-finger when a child). The Serjeant, however, said I was just the sort of little chap he wanted, and off he went, carrying me (amongst a batch of recruits he had collected) away with him. Almost the first soldiers I ever saw were those belonging to the corps in which I was now enrolled a member, and, on arriving at Winchester, we found the whole regiment there in quarters. Whilst lying at Winchester (where we remained three months), young as I was in the profession, I was picked out, amongst others, to perform a piece of duty that, for many years afterwards, remained deeply impressed upon my mind, and gave me the first impression of the stern duties of a soldier's life. A private of the 70th Regiment had deserted from that corps, and afterwards enlisted into several other regiments; indeed, I was told at the time (though I cannot answer for so great a number) that sixteen different times he had received the bounty and then stolen off. Being, however, caught at last, he was brought to trial at Portsmouth, and sentenced by general court-martial to be shot. The 66th received a route to Portsmouth, to be present on the occasion, and, as the execution would be a good hint to us young 'uns, there were four lads picked out of our corps to assist in this piece of duty, myself being one of the number chosen. Besides these men, four soldiers from three other regiments were ordered on the firing-party, making sixteen in all. The place of execution was Portsdown Hill, near Hilsea Barracks, and the different regiments assembled must have composed a force of about fifteen thousand men, having been assembled from the Isle of Wight, from Chichester, Gosport, and other places. The sight was very imposing, and appeared to make a deep impression on all there. As for myself, I felt that I would have given a good round sum (had I possessed it) to have been in any situation rather than the one in which I now found myself; and when I looked into the faces of my companions, I saw, by the pallor and anxiety depicted in each countenance, the reflection of my own feelings. When all was ready, we were moved to the front, and the culprit was brought out. He made a short speech to the parade, acknowledging the justice of his sentence, and that drinking and evil company had brought the punishment upon him. He behaved himself firmly and well, and did not seem at all to flinch. After being blindfolded, he was desired to kneel down behind a coffin, which was placed on the ground, and the Drum-Major of the Hilsea depÔt, giving us an expressive glance, we immediately commenced loading. This was done in the deepest silence, and, the next moment, we were primed and ready. There was then a dreadful pause for a few moments, and the Drum-Major, again looking towards us, gave the signal before agreed upon (a flourish of his cane), and we levelled and fired. We had been previously strictly enjoined to be steady, and take good aim, and the poor fellow, pierced by several balls, fell heavily upon his back; and as he lay, with his arms pinioned to his sides, I observed that his hands waved for a few moments, like the fins of a fish when in the agonies of death. The Drum-Major also observed the movement, and, making another signal, four of our party immediately stepped up to the prostrate body, and placing the muzzles of their pieces to the head, fired, and put him out of his misery. The different regiments then fell back by companies, and the word being given to march past in slow time, when each company came in line with the body, the word was given to "mark time," and then "eyes left," in order that we might all observe the terrible example. We then moved onwards, and marched from the ground to our different quarters. The 66th stopped that night about three miles from Portsdown Hill, and in the morning we returned to Winchester. The officer in command that day, I remember, was General Whitelock, who was afterwards brought to court-martial himself. This was the first time of our seeing that officer. The next meeting was at Buenos Ayres, and during the confusion of that day one of us received an order from the fiery Craufurd to shoot the traitor dead if he could see him in the battle, many others of the Rifles receiving the same order from that fine and chivalrous officer. The unfortunate issue of the Buenos Ayres affair is matter of history, and I have nothing to say about it; but I well remember the impression it made upon us all at the time, and that Sir John Moore was present at Whitelock's court-martial; General Craufurd, and I think General Auchmuty, Captain Eleder of the Rifles, Captain Dickson, and one of our privates, being witnesses. We were at Hythe at the time, and I recollect our officers going off to appear against Whitelock. So enraged was Craufurd against him, that I heard say he strove hard to have him shot. Whitelock's father I also heard was at his son's trial, and cried like an infant during the proceedings. Whitelock's sword was broken over his head I was told; and for months afterwards, when our men took their glass, they used to give as a toast "Success to grey hairs, but bad luck to White-locks." Indeed that toast was drunk in all the public-houses around for many a-day. Everything was new to me, I remember, and I was filled with astonishment at the bustling contrast I was so suddenly called into from the tranquil and quiet of my former life. Whilst in Winchester, we got a route for Ireland, and embarking at Portsmouth, crossed over and landed at Cork. There we remained nine weeks; and being a smart figure and very active, I was put into the light company of the 66th, and, together with the light corps of other regiments, we were formed into light battalions, and sent off to Dublin. Whilst in Dublin, I one day saw a corps of the 95th Rifles, and fell so in love with their smart, dashing, and devil-may-care appearance, that nothing would serve me till I was a Rifleman myself; so, on arriving at Cashel one day, and falling in with a recruiting-party of that regiment, I volunteered into the 2nd battalion. This recruiting-party were all Irishmen, and had been sent over from England to collect (amongst others) men from the Irish Militia, and were just about to return to England. I think they were as reckless and devil-may-care a set of men as ever I beheld, either before or since. Being joined by a Serjeant of the 92nd Highlanders, and a Highland Piper of the same regiment (also a pair of real rollicking blades), I thought we should all have gone mad together. We started on our journey, one beautiful morning, in tip-top spirits, from the Royal Oak, at Cashel; the whole lot of us (early as it was) being three sheets in the wind. When we paraded before the door of the Royal Oak, the landlord and landlady of the inn, who were quite as lively, came reeling forth, with two decanters of whiskey, which they thrust into the fists of the Sergeants, making them a present of decanters and all, to carry along with them, and refresh themselves on the march. The Piper then struck up, the Sergeants flourished their decanters, and the whole route commenced a terrific yell. We then all began to dance, and danced through the town, every now and then stopping for another pull at the whiskey decanters. Thus we kept it up till we had danced, drank, shouted, and piped thirteen Irish miles, from Cashel to Clonmel. Such a day, I think, I never spent, as I enjoyed with these fellows; and on arriving at Clonmel, we were as glorious as any soldiers in all Christendom need wish to be. In about ten days after this, our Sergeants had collected together a good batch of recruits, and we started for England. Some few days before we embarked (as if we had not been bothered enough already with the unruly Paddies), we were nearly pestered to death with a detachment of old Irish women, who came from different parts (on hearing of their sons having enlisted), in order to endeavour to get them away from us. Following us down to the water's edge, they hung to their offspring, and, dragging them away, sent forth such dismal howls and moans that it was quite distracting to hear them. The Lieutenant commanding the party, ordered me (being the only Englishman present) to endeavour to keep them back. It was, however, as much as I could do to preserve myself from being torn to pieces by them, and I was glad to escape out of their hands. At length we got our lads safe on board, and set sail for England. No sooner were we out at sea, however, than our troubles began afresh with these hot-headed Paddies; for, having now nothing else to do, they got up a dreadful quarrel amongst themselves, and a religious row immediately took place, the Catholics reviling the Protestants to such a degree that a general fight ensued. The poor Protestants (being few in number) soon got the worst of it, and as fast as we made matters up among them, they broke out afresh and began the riot again. From Pill, where we landed, we marched to Bristol, and thence to Bath. Whilst in Bath, our Irish recruits roamed about the town, staring at and admiring everything they saw, as if they had just been taken wild in the woods. They all carried immense shillelaghs in their fists, which they would not quit for a moment. Indeed they seemed to think their very lives depended on possession of these bludgeons, being ready enough to make use of them on the slightest occasion. From Bath we marched to Andover, and when we came upon Salisbury Plain, our Irish friends got up a fresh row. At first they appeared uncommonly pleased with the scene, and, dispersing over the soft carpet of the Downs, commenced a series of Irish jigs, till at length as one of the Catholics was setting to his partner (a Protestant), he gave a whoop and a leap into the air, and at the same time (as if he couldn't bear the partnership of a heretic any longer), dealt him a tremendous blow with his shillelagh, and stretched him upon the sod. This was quite enough, and the bludgeons immediately began playing away at a tremendous rate. The poor Protestants were again quickly disposed of, and then arose a cry of Huzza for the Wicklow boys, Huzza for the Connaught boys, Huzza for Munster, and Huzza for Ulster! They then recommenced the fight as if they were determined to make an end of their soldiering altogether upon Salisbury Plains. We had, I remember, four officers with us, and they did their best to pacify their pugnacious recruits. One thrust himself amongst them, but was instantly knocked down for his pains, so that he was glad enough to escape. After they had completely tired themselves, they began to slacken in their endeavours, and apparently to feel the effect of the blows they dealt each other, and at length suffering themselves to be pacified, the officers got them into Andover. Scarcely had we been a couple of hours there, and obtained some refreshment, ere these incorrigible blackguards again commenced quarrelling, and, collecting together in the streets, created so serious a disturbance that the officers, getting together a body of constables, seized some of the most violent and succeeded in thrusting them into the town jail; upon this their companions again collected, and endeavoured to break open the prison gates. Baffled in this attempt, they rushed through the streets knocking down every body they met. The drums now commenced beating up for a volunteer corps of the town, which, quickly mustering, drew up in the street before the jail, and immediately were ordered to load with ball. This somewhat pacified the rioters, and our officers persuading them to listen to a promise of pardon for the past, peace was at length restored amongst them. The next day we marched for Ashford, in Kent, where I joined the 95th Rifles, and about six months after my joining, four companies of the second battalion were ordered on the expedition to Denmark. We embarked at Deal, and sailing for the hostile shores, landed on a little place called, I think, Scarlet Island, somewhere between Elsineur and Copenhagen. The expedition consisted of about 30,000 men, and at the moment of our getting on shore, the whole force set up one simultaneous and tremendous cheer, a sound I cannot describe, it seemed so inspiring. This, indeed, was the first time of my hearing the style in which our men give tongue when they get near the enemy, though afterwards my ears became pretty well accustomed to such sounds. As soon as we got on shore, the Rifles were pushed forward as the advance, in chain order, through some thick woods of fir, and when we had cleared these woods and approached Copenhagen, sentries were posted on the roads and openings leading towards the town, in order to intercept all comers, and prevent all supplies. Such posts we occupied for about three days and nights, whilst the town was being fired on by our shipping. I rather think this was the first time of Congreve rockets being brought into play, and as they rushed through the air in the dark, they appeared like so many fiery serpents, creating, I should think, terrible dismay among the besieged. As the main army came up, we advanced and got as near under the walls of the place as we could without being endangered by the fire from our own shipping. We now received orders ourselves to commence firing, and the rattling of the guns I shall not easily forget. I felt so much exhilarated that I could hardly keep back, and was checked by the Commander of the company (Capt. Leech), who called to me by name to keep my place. About this time, my front-rank man, a tall fellow named Jack Johnson, shewed a disposition as though the firing had on him an effect the reverse of what it had on many others of the company, for he seemed inclined to hang back, and once or twice turned round in my face. I was a rear-rank man, and porting my piece, in the excitement of the moment I swore that if he did not keep his ground, I would shoot him dead on the spot; so that he found it would be quite as dangerous for him to return as to go on. I feel sorry to record the want of courage of this man, but I do so with the less pain as it gives me the opportunity of saying that during many years' arduous service, it is the only instance I remember of a British soldier endeavouring to hold back when his comrades were going forward. Indeed, Johnson was never again held in estimation amongst the Rifle corps; for the story got wind that I had threatened to shoot him for cowardice in the field, and Lieut. Cox mentioned to the Colonel, that he had overheard my doing so; and such was the contempt the man was held in by the Rifles, that he was soon afterwards removed from amongst us to a veteran battalion. Whilst in Denmark we led a tolerably active life, the Rifles being continually on the alert—ordered hither to-day, and countermanded the next. Occasionally, too, when wanted in a hurry, we were placed in carts, and rattled over the face of the country, in company with the dragoons of the German Legion; so that, if we had not so much fighting as afterwards in the Peninsular, we had plenty of work to keep us from idleness. Occasionally, also, we had some pleasant adventures among the blue-eyed Danish lasses, for the Rifles were always terrible fellows in that way. One night, I remember, a party of us had possession of a gentleman's house, in which his family were residing. The family consisted of the owner of the mansion, his wife, and five very handsome daughters, besides their servants. The first night of our occupation of the premises the party was treated with the utmost civility, and everything was set before us as if we had been their equals; for although it was not very pleasant to have a company of foreign soldiers in the house, it was doubtless thought best to do everything possible to conciliate such guests. Accordingly, on this night, a large party of the green-jackets unceremoniously sat down to tea with the family. Five beautiful girls in a drawing-room were rather awkward companions for a set of rough and ready Riflemen, unscrupulous and bold, and I cannot say I felt easy. All went on very comfortably for some time; our fellows drank their tea very genteelly, whilst one young lady presided at the urn to serve it out, and the others sat on each side of their father and mother, chatting to us, and endeavouring to make themselves as agreeable as they could. By and bye, however, some of our men expressed themselves dissatisfied with tea and toast, and demanded something stronger; and liquors were accordingly served to them. This was followed by more familiarity, and, the ice once broken, all respect for the host and hostess was quickly lost. I had feared this would prove the case, and on seeing several of the men commence pulling the young ladies about, kissing them, and proceeding to other acts of rudeness, I saw that matters would quickly get worse, unless I interfered. Jumping up, therefore, I endeavoured to restore order, and upbraided them with the blackguardism of their behaviour after the kindness with which we had been used. This remonstrance had some effect; and when I added that I would immediately go in quest of an officer, and report the first man I saw ill use the ladies, I at length succeeded in extricating them from their persecutors. The father and mother were extremely grateful to me for my interference, and I kept careful guard over the family whilst we remained in that house, which luckily was not long. Soon after this the expedition returned to England, and I came, with others of the Rifles, in a Danish man-of-war (the Princess Caroline), and landed at Deal, from whence we had started. From Deal we marched to Hythe, and there we lay until the year 1808, and in that year four companies of the second battalion, to which I belonged, were ordered to Portugal. In that year I first saw the French. CHAPTER II.
I wish I could picture the splendid sight of the shipping in the Downs, at the time we embarked with about 20,000 men. Those were times which the soldiers of our own more peaceable days have little conception of. At Cork, where our ships cast anchor, we lay for something like six weeks, during which time the expedition was not disembarked, with the exception of our four companies of Rifles, who were every day landed for the purpose of drill. On such occasions our merry bugles sounded over the country, and we were skirmished about in very lively fashion, always being embarked again at night. At the expiration of the time I have mentioned, our sails were given to the wind, and amidst the cheers of our comrades, we sailed majestically out of the Cove of Cork for the hostile shore, where we arrived safely, and disembarked at Mondego Bay. The Rifles were the first out of the vessels, for we were, indeed, always in the front in advance, and in rear in the retreat. Like the Kentish men of old, we claimed the post of honour in the field. Being immediately pushed forwards up the country in advance of the main body, many of us, in this hot climate, very soon began to find out the misery of the frightful load we were condemned to march and fight under, with a burning sun above our heads, and our feet sinking every step into the hot sand. The weight I myself toiled under was tremendous, and I often wonder at the strength I possessed at this period, which enabled me to endure it; for, indeed, I am convinced that many of our infantry sank and died under the weight of their knapsacks alone. For my own part, being a handicraft, I marched under a weight sufficient to impede the free motions of a donkey; for besides my well-filled kit, there was the great-coat rolled on its top, my blanket and camp kettle, my haversack, stuffed full of leather for repairing the men's shoes, together with a hammer and other tools (the lapstone I took the liberty of flinging to the devil), ship-biscuit and beef for three days. I also carried my canteen filled with water, my hatchet and rifle, and eighty rounds of ball cartridge in my pouch; this last, except the beef and biscuit, being the best thing I owned, and which I always gave the enemy the benefit of, when opportunity offered. Altogether the quantity of things I had on my shoulders was enough and more than enough for my wants, sufficient, indeed, to sink a little fellow of five feet seven inches into the earth. Nay, so awkwardly was the load our men bore in those days, placed upon their backs, that the free motion of the body was impeded, the head held down from the pile at the back of the neck, and the soldier half beaten before he came to the scratch. We marched till it was nearly dark, and then halted for the night. I myself was immediately posted sentinel between two hedges, and in a short time General Fane came up, and himself cautioned me to be alert. "Remember, sentinel," he said, "that we are now near an active enemy; therefore be careful here, and mind what you are about." Next day the peasantry sent into our camp a great quantity of the good things of their country, so that our men regaled themselves upon oranges, grapes, melons, and figs, and we had an abundance of delicacies which many of us had never before tasted. Amongst other presents, a live calf was presented to the Rifles, so that altogether we feasted in our first entrance into Portugal like a company of aldermen. The next day we again advanced, and being in a state of the utmost anxiety to come up with the French, neither the heat of the burning sun, long miles, or heavy knapsacks were able to diminish our ardour. Indeed, I often look back with wonder at the light-hearted style, the jollity, and reckless indifference with which men who were destined in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of strife; seemingly without a thought of anything but the sheer love of meeting the foe and the excitement of the battle. It was five or six days before the battle of RoliÇa, the army was on the march, and we were pushing on pretty fast. The whole force had slept the night before in the open fields; indeed, as far as I know, (for the Rifles were always in the front at this time,) they had been for many days without any covering but the sky. We were pelting along through the streets of a village, the name of which I do not think I ever knew, so I cannot name it; I was in the front, and had just cleared the village, when I recollect observing General Hill (afterwards Lord Hill) and another officer ride up to a house, and give their horses to some of the soldiery to hold. Our bugles at that moment sounded the halt, and I stood leaning upon my rifle near the door of the mansion which General Hill had entered: there was a little garden before the house, and I stood by the gate. Whilst I remained there, the officer who had entered with General Hill came to the door, and called to me. "Rifleman," said he, "come here." I entered the gate, and approached him. "Go," he continued, handing me a dollar, "and try if you can get some wine; for we are devilish thirsty here." Taking the dollar, I made my way back to the village. At a wine-house, where the men were crowding around the door, and clamouring for drink, (for the day was intensely hot,) I succeeded, after some little difficulty, in getting a small pipkin full of wine; but the crowd was so great, that I found as much trouble in paying for it as in getting it; so I returned back as fast as I was able, fearing that the general would be impatient, and move off before I reached him. I remember Lord Hill was loosening his sword-belt as I handed him the wine. "Drink first, Rifleman," said he; and I took a good pull at the pipkin, and held it to him again. He looked at it as I did so, and told me I might drink it all up, for it appeared greasy; so I swallowed the remainder, and handed him back the dollar which I had received from the officer. "Keep the money," he said, "my man. Go back to the village once more, and try if you cannot get me another draught." Saying this, he handed me a second dollar, and told me to be quick. I made my way back to the village, got another pipkin full, and returned as fast as I could. The general was pleased with my promptness, and drank with great satisfaction, handing the remainder to the officer who attended him; and I dare say, if he ever recollected the circumstance afterwards, that was as sweet a draught, after the toil of the morning march, as he has drank at many a nobleman's board in old England since. I remember remarking Lord Hill, for the second time in my life, under circumstances which (from their not being of every-day occurrence) fixed it upon my mind. The 29th regiment received so terrible a fire, that I saw the right wing almost annihilated, and the colonel (I think his name was Lennox) lay sprawling amongst the rest. We had ourselves caught it pretty handsomely; for there was no cover for us, and we were rather too near. The living skirmishers were lying beside heaps of their own dead; but still we had held our own till the battalion regiments came up. "Fire and retire"[1] is a very good sound; but the Rifles were not over fond of such notes. We never performed that manoeuvre, except when it was made pretty plain to us that it was quite necessary; the 29th, however, had got their fairing here at this time; and the shock of that fire seemed to stagger the whole line, and make them recoil. At the moment, a little confusion appeared in the ranks, I thought. Lord Hill was near at hand, and saw it, and I observed him come galloping up. He put himself at the head of the regiment, and restored them to order in a moment. Pouring a regular and sharp fire upon the enemy, he galled them in return; and, remaining with the 29th till he brought them to the charge, quickly sent the foe to the right about. It seemed to me that few men could have conducted the business with more coolness and quietude of manner, under such a storm of balls as he was exposed to. Indeed, I have never forgotten him from that day. At the time I was remarking these matters (loading and firing as I lay), another circumstance divided my attention for a while, and made me forget even the gallant conduct of General Hill. A man near me uttered a scream of agony; and, looking from the 29th, who were on my right, to the left, whence the screech had come, I saw one of our sergeants, named Frazer, sitting in a doubled-up position, and swaying backwards and forwards, as though he had got a terrible pain in his bowels. He continued to make so much complaint, that I arose and went to him, for he was rather a crony of mine. "Oh! Harris!" said he, as I took him in my arms, "I shall die! I shall die! The agony is so great that I cannot bear it." It was, indeed, dreadful to look upon him; the froth came from his mouth, and the perspiration poured from his face. Thank Heaven! he was soon out of pain; and, laying him down, I returned to my place. Poor fellow! he suffered more for the short time that he was dying, than any man I think I ever saw in the same circumstances. I had the curiosity to return and look at him after the battle. A musket-ball, I found, had taken him sideways, and gone through both groins. Within about half-an-hour after this I left Sergeant Frazer, and, indeed, for the time, had as completely forgotten him, as if he had died a hundred years back. The sight of so much bloodshed around, will not suffer the mind to dwell long on any particular casuality, even though it happen to one's dearest friend. There was no time either to think, for all was action with us Rifles just at this moment; and the barrel of my piece was so hot from continual firing, that I could hardly bear to touch it, and was obliged to grasp the stock beneath the iron, as I continued to blaze away. James Ponton was another crony of mine (a gallant fellow!); he had pushed himself in front of me, and was checked by one of our officers for his rashness. "Keep back, you Ponton!" the lieutenant said to him, more than once. But Ponton was not to be restrained by anything but a bullet when in action. This time he got one; which, striking him in the thigh, I suppose hit an artery, for he died quickly. The Frenchmen's balls were flying very wickedly at that moment; and I crept up to Ponton, and took shelter by lying behind, and making a rest for my rifle of his dead body. It strikes me that I revenged his death by the assistance of his carcase. At any rate, I tried my best to hit his enemies hard. There were two small buildings in our front; and the French, having managed to get into them, annoyed us much from that quarter. A small rise in the ground close before these houses, also favoured them; and our men were being handled very severely in consequence. They became angry, and wouldn't stand it any longer. One of the skirmishers, jumping up, rushed forward, crying, "Over, boys!—over! over!" when instantly the whole line responded to the cry, "Over! over! over!" They ran along the grass like wildfire, and dashed at the rise, fixing their sword-bayonets as they ran. The French light bobs could not stand the sight, but turned about, and fled; and, getting possession of their ground, we were soon inside the buildings. After the battle was over, I stepped across to the other house I have mentioned, in order to see what was going on there; for the one I remained in was now pretty well filled with the wounded (both French and English,) who had managed to get there for a little shelter. Two or three surgeons, also, had arrived at this house, and were busily engaged in giving their assistance to the wounded, now also here lying as thickly as in the building which I had left; but what struck me most forcibly was, that from the circumstance of some wine-butts having been left in the apartment, and their having in the engagement been perforated by bullets, and otherwise broken, the red wine had escaped most plentifully, and ran down upon the earthen floor, where the wounded were lying, so that many of them were soaked in the wine with which their blood was mingled. FOOTNOTES:[1] "Fire and retire,"—one of the bugle sounds to the skirmishers, when hard pressed. CHAPTER III.
It was on the 15th of August, when we first came up with the French, and their skirmishers immediately commenced operations by raining a shower of balls upon us as we advanced, which we returned without delay. The first man that was hit was Lieutenant Bunbury; he fell pierced through the head with a musket-ball, and died almost immediately. I thought I never heard such a tremendous noise as the firing made on this occasion, and the men on both sides of me, I could occasionally observe, were falling fast. Being overmatched, we retired to a rising ground, or hillock, in our rear, and formed there all round its summit, standing three deep, the front rank kneeling. In this position we remained all night, expecting the whole host upon us every moment. At day-break, however, we received instructions to fall back as quickly as possible upon the main body. Having done so, we now lay down for a few hours' rest, and then again advanced to feel for the enemy. On the 17th, being still in front, we again came up with the French, and I remember observing the pleasing effect afforded by the sun's rays glancing upon their arms, as they formed in order of battle to receive us. Moving on in extended order, under whatever cover the nature of the ground afforded, together with some companies of the 60th, we began a sharp fire upon them; and thus commenced the battle of RoliÇa. I do not pretend to give a description of this or any other battle I have been present at. All I can do is, to tell the things which happened immediately around me, and that, I think, is as much as a private soldier can be expected to do. Soon afterwards the firing commenced, and we had advanced pretty close upon the enemy. Taking advantage of whatever cover I could find, I threw myself down behind a small bank, where I lay so secure, that, although the Frenchmen's bullets fell pretty thickly around, I was enabled to knock several over without being dislodged; in fact, I fired away every round I had in my pouch whilst lying on this spot. At length, after a sharp contest, we forced them to give ground, and, following them up, drove them from their position in the heights, and hung upon their skirts till they made another stand, and then the game began again. The Rifles, indeed, fought well this day, and we lost many men. They seemed in high spirits, and delighted at having driven the enemy before them. Joseph Cochan was by my side loading and firing very industriously about this period of the day. Thirsting with heat and action, he lifted his canteen to his mouth; "Here's to you, old boy," he said, as he took a pull at its contents. As he did so a bullet went through the canteen, and perforating his brain, killed him in a moment. Another man fell close to him almost immediately, struck by a ball in the thigh. Indeed we caught it severely just here, and the old iron was also playing its part amongst our poor fellows very merrily. I saw a man named Symmonds struck full in the face by a round shot, and he came to the ground a headless trunk. Meanwhile, many large balls bounded along the ground amongst us so deliberately that we could occasionally evade them without difficulty. I could relate many more of the casualties I witnessed on this day, but the above will suffice. When the roll was called after the battle, the females who missed their husbands came along the front of the line to inquire of the survivors whether they knew anything about them. Amongst other names I heard that of Cochan called in a female voice, without being replied to. The name struck me, and I observed the poor woman who had called it, as she stood sobbing before us, and apparently afraid to make further inquiries about her husband. No man had answered to his name, or had any account to give of his fate. I myself had observed him fall, as related before, whilst drinking from his canteen; but as I looked at the poor sobbing creature before me, I felt unable to tell her of his death. At length Captain Leech observed her, and called out to the company, "Does any man here know what has happened to Cochan? If so, let him speak out at once." Upon this order I immediately related what I had seen, and told the manner of his death. After awhile Mrs. Cochan appeared anxious to seek the spot where her husband fell, and in the hope of still finding him alive, asked me to accompany her over the field. She trusted, notwithstanding what I had told her, to find him yet alive. "Do you think you could find it?" said Captain Leech, upon being referred to. I told him I was sure I could, as I had remarked many objects whilst looking for cover during the skirmishing. "Go then," said the captain, "and shew the poor woman the spot, as she seems so desirous of finding the body." I accordingly took my way over the ground we had fought upon, she following and sobbing after me, and, quickly reaching the spot where her husband's body lay, pointed it out to her. She now soon discovered all her hopes were in vain; she embraced a stiffened corpse, and after rising and contemplating his disfigured face for some minutes, with hands clasped, and tears streaming down her cheeks she took a prayer-book from her pocket, and kneeling down, repeated the service for the dead over the body. When she had finished she appeared a good deal comforted, and I took the opportunity of beckoning to a pioneer I saw near with some other men, and together we dug a hole, and quickly buried the body. Mrs. Cochan then returned with me to the company to which her husband had been attached, and laid herself down upon the heath near us. She lay amongst some other females, who were in the same distressing circumstances with herself, with the sky for her canopy, and a turf for her pillow, for we had no tents with us. Poor woman! I pitied her much; but there was no remedy. If she had been a duchess she must have fared the same. She was a handsome woman, I remember, and the circumstance of my having seen her husband fall, and accompanied her to find his body, begot a sort of intimacy between us. The company to which Cochan had belonged, bereaved as she was, was now her home, and she marched and took equal fortune with us to Vimiero. She hovered about us during that battle, and then went with us to Lisbon, where she succeeded in procuring a passage to England. Such was my first acquaintance with Mrs. Cochan. The circumstances of our intimacy were singular, and an attachment grew between us during the short time we remained together. What little attention I could pay her during the hardships of the march I did, and I also offered on the first opportunity to marry her. "She had, however, received too great a shock on the occasion of her husband's death ever to think of another soldier," she said; she therefore thanked me for my good feeling towards her, but declined my offer, and left us soon afterwards for England. CHAPTER IV.
It was on the 21st of August, that we commenced fighting the battle of Vimiero. The French came down upon us in a column, and the Riflemen immediately commenced a sharp fire upon them from whatever cover they could get a shelter behind, whilst our cannon played upon them from our rear. I saw regular lanes torn through their ranks as they advanced, which were immediately closed up again as they marched steadily on. Whenever we saw a round shot thus go through the mass, we raised a shout of delight. One of our corporals, named Murphy, was the first man in the Rifles who was hit that morning, and I remember more particularly remarking the circumstance from his apparently having a presentiment of his fate before the battle began. He was usually an active fellow, and up to this time had shewn himself a good and brave soldier, but on this morning he seemed unequal to his duty. General Fane and Major Travers were standing together on an early part of this day. The general had a spy-glass in his hand, and for some time looked anxiously at the enemy. Suddenly he gave the word to fall in, and immediately all was bustle amongst us. The Honourable Captain Packenham spoke very sharply to Murphy, who appeared quite dejected and out of spirits, I observed. He had a presentiment of death, which is by no means an uncommon circumstance, and I have observed it once or twice since this battle. Others besides myself noticed Murphy on this morning, and, as we had reason to know he was not ordinarily deficient in courage, the circumstance was talked of after the battle was over. He was the first man shot that day. Early on the morning of the battle, I remember being relieved from picket, and throwing myself down to gain a few hour's repose before the expected engagement. So wearied was I with watching that I was hardly prostrate before I was in a sound sleep,—a sleep, which those only who have toiled in the field can know. I was not, however, destined to enjoy a very long repose before one of our serjeants, poking me with the muzzle of his rifle, desired me to get up, as many of the men wanted their shoes repaired immediately. This was by no means an uncommon occurrence, and I would fain have declined the job, but as several of the Riflemen who had followed the serjeant, soon afterwards came round me and threw their shoes and boots at my head, I was fain to scramble on my legs, and make up my mind to go to work. On looking around, in order to observe if there was any hut or shed in which I could more conveniently exercise my craft, I espied a house near at hand, on the rise of a small hill. So I gathered up several pairs of the dilapidated boots and shoes, and immediately made for it. Seating myself down in a small room as soon as I entered, I took the tools from my haversack and prepared to work; and as the boots of the Captain of my Company, were amongst the bad lot, and he was barefooted for want of them, I commenced with them. Hardly had I worked a quarter of an hour, when a cannon-ball (the first announcement of the coming battle) came crashing through the walls of the house, just above my head, and completely covered the Captain's boot (as it lay between my knees) with dust and fragments of the building. There were only two persons in the room at the time, an old and a young woman, and they were so dreadfully scared at this sudden visitation, that they ran about the room, making the house echo with their shrieks, till at length they rushed out into the open air, leaving me alone with the boots around me on the floor. For my own part, although I was more used to such sounds, I thought it was no time and place to mend boots and shoes in, so, being thus left alone in my glory, I shook the dust from my apron, gathered up the whole stock-in-trade from the floor, and hastily replacing my tools in my haversack, followed the example of the mistress of the mansion and her daughter, and bolted out of the house. When I got into the open air, I found all in a state of bustle and activity, the men falling in, and the officers busily engaged, whilst twenty or thirty mouths opened at me the moment I appeared, calling out for their boots and shoes.—"Where's my boots, Harris, you humbug?" cried one. "Give me my shoes, you old sinner," said another. "The Captain's boots here, Harris, instantly," cried the Serjeant. "Make haste, and fall into the ranks as fast as you can." There was, indeed, no time for ceremony, so, letting go the corners of my apron, I threw down the whole lot of boots and shoes for the men to choose for themselves; the Captain's being amongst the lot, with the wax-ends hanging to them (as I had left them when the cannon-ball so unceremoniously put a stop to my work), and quickly shouldering my piece, I fell into the ranks as I was ordered. Just before the battle commenced in earnest, and whilst the officers were busily engaged with their companies, shouting the word of command, and arranging matters of moment, Captain Leech ordered a section of our men to move off, at double quick, and take possession of a windmill, which was on our left. I was amongst this section, and set off full cry towards the mill, when Captain Leech espied and roared out to me by name to return.—"Hallo! there, you Harris!" he called, "fall out of that section directly. We want you here, my man." I, therefore, wheeled out of the rank, and returned to him. "You fall in amongst the men here, Harris," he said. "I shall not send you to that post. The cannon will play upon the mill in a few moments like hail; and what shall we do," he continued, laughing, "without our head shoemaker to repair our shoes?" It is long since these transactions took place. But I remember the words of the Captain as if they had been uttered but yesterday; for that which was spoken in former years in the field, has made a singular impression on my mind. As I looked about me, whilst standing enranked, and just before the commencement of the battle, I thought it the most imposing sight the world could produce. Our lines glittering with bright arms; the stern features of the men, as they stood with their eyes fixed unalterably upon the enemy, the proud colours of England floating over the heads of the different battalions, and the dark cannon on the rising ground, and all in readiness to commence the awful work of death, with a noise that would deafen the whole multitude. Altogether, the sight had a singular and terrible effect upon the feelings of a youth, who, a few short months before, had been a solitary shepherd upon the Downs of Dorsetshire, and had never contemplated any other sort of life than the peaceful occupation of watching the innocent sheep as they fed upon the grassy turf. The first cannon-shot I saw fired, I remember was a miss. The artilleryman made a sad bungle, and the ball went wide of the mark. We were all looking anxiously to see the effect of this shot; and another of the gunners (a red-haired man) rushed at the fellow who had fired, and in the excitement of the moment, knocked him head over heels with his fist. "D—— you, for a fool," he said; "what sort of a shot do you call that? Let me take the gun." He accordingly fired the next shot himself, as soon as the gun was loaded, and so truly did he point it at the French column on the hill side, that we saw the fatal effect of the destructive missile, by the lane it made and the confusion it caused. Our Riflemen (who at the moment were amongst the guns), upon seeing this, set up a tremendous shout of delight, and the battle commencing immediately, we were all soon hard at work. I myself was very soon so hotly engaged, loading and firing away, enveloped in the smoke I created, and the cloud which hung about me from the continued fire of my comrades, that I could see nothing for a few minutes but the red flash of my own piece amongst the white vapour clinging to my very clothes. This has often seemed to me the greatest drawback upon our present system of fighting; for whilst in such state, on a calm day, until some friendly breeze of wind clears the space around, a soldier knows no more of his position and what is about to happen in his front, or what has happened (even amongst his own companions) than the very dead lying around. The Rifles, as usual, were pretty busy in this battle. The French, in great numbers, came steadily down upon us, and we pelted away upon them like a shower of leaden hail. Under any cover we could find, we lay; firing one moment, jumping up and running for it the next; and, when we could see before us, we observed the cannonballs making a lane through the enemy's columns as they advanced, huzzaing and shouting like madmen. Such is my remembrance of the commencement of the battle of Vimiero. The battle began on a fine bright day, and the sun played on the arms of the enemy's battalions, as they came on, as if they had been tipped with gold. The battle soon became general; the smoke thickened around, and often I was obliged to stop firing, and dash it aside from my face, and try in vain to get a sight of what was going on, whilst groans and shouts and a noise of cannon and musketry appeared almost to shake the very ground. It seemed hell upon earth I thought. A man named John Low stood before me at this moment, and he turned round during a pause in our exertions, and addressed me: "Harris, you humbug," he said, "you have got plenty of money about you, I know; for you are always staying about and picking up what you can find on the field. But I think this will be your last field-day, old boy. A good many of us will catch it, I suspect, to-day." "You are right, Low," I said. "I have got nine guineas in my pack, and if I am shot to-day, and you yourself escape, it's quite at your service. In the meantime, however, if you see any symptoms of my wishing to flinch in this business I hope you will shoot me with your own hand." Low, as well as myself, survived this battle, and after it was over, whilst we sat down with our comrades and rested, amongst other matters talked over, Low told them of our conversation during the heat of the day, and the money I had collected, and the Rifles from that time had a great respect for me. It is, indeed, singular, how a man loses or gains caste with his comrades from his behaviour, and how closely he is observed in the field. The officers, too, are commented upon and closely observed. The men are very proud of those who are brave in the field, and kind and considerate to the soldiers under them. An act of kindness done by an officer has often during the battle been the cause of his life being saved. Nay, whatever folks may say upon the matter, I know from experience, that in our army the men like best to be officered by gentlemen, men whose education has rendered them more kind in manners than your coarse officer, sprung from obscure origin, and whose style is brutal and overbearing. My observation has often led me to remark amongst men, that those whose birth and station might reasonably have made them fastidious under hardship and toil, have generally borne their miseries without a murmur;—whilst those whose previous life, one would have thought, might have better prepared them for the toils of war, have been the first to cry out and complain of their hard fate. And here let me bear testimony to the courage and endurance of that army under trials and hardships such as few armies, in any age, I should think, endured. I have seen officers and men hobbling forward, with tears in their eyes from the misery of long miles, empty stomachs, and ragged backs, without even shoes or stockings on their bleeding feet, and it was not a little that would bring a tear into the eyes of a Rifleman of the Peninsular. Youths, who had not long been removed from their parents' home and care, officers and men, have borne hardships and privations such as (in our own more peaceful days) we have little conception of; and yet these men, faint and weary with toil, would brighten up in a moment when the word ran amongst us that the enemy were at hand. I remember on the march from Salamanca seeing many men fail. Our marches were long, and the weakly ones were found out. It was then pretty much "every one for himself;" those whose strength began to fail looked neither to the right nor the left, but, with glassy eyes, they kept onward, staggering on as well as they could. When once down, it was sometimes not easy to get up again, and few were inclined to help their comrades when their own strength was but small. On this march, I myself (strong as I was) felt completely done up, and fell in the streets of a town called, I think, Zamora, where I lay, like one dead, for some time. CHAPTER V.
It was just at the close of the battle of Vimiero: the dreadful turmoil and noise of the engagement had hardly subsided, and I began to look into the faces of the men close around me, to see who had escaped the dangers of the hour. Four or five days back I had done the same thing at RoliÇa. One feels, indeed, a sort of curiosity to know, after such a scene, who is remaining alive amongst the companions endeared by good conduct, or disliked from bad character, during the hardships of the campaign. I saw that the ranks of the Riflemen looked very thin; it seemed to me one half had gone down. We had four companies of the 95th, and were commanded that day by Major Travers. He was a man much liked by the men of the Rifles, and, indeed, deservedly beloved by all who knew him. He was a tight hand; but a soldier likes that better than a slovenly officer. I had observed him more than once during this day, spurring here and there, keeping the men well up, and apparently in the highest spirits. He could not have enjoyed himself more, I am sure, if he had been at a horse-race, or following a good pack of hounds. The battle was just over; a flag of truce had come over from the French; General Kellerman, I think, brought it. We threw ourselves down where we were standing when the fire ceased. A Frenchman lay close beside me; he was dying, and called to me for water; which I understood him to require more from his manner than his words (he pointed to his mouth). I need not say that I got up, and gave it him. Whilst I did so, down galloped the major in front, just in the same good spirits he had been all day; plunging along, avoiding, with some little difficulty, the dead and dying, which were strewed about. He was never a very good-looking man, being hard-featured and thin; a hatchet-faced man, as we used to say. But he was a regular good 'un,—a real English soldier; and that's better than if he had been the handsomest ladies'-man in the army. The major just now disclosed what none of us, I believe, knew before; namely, that his head was bald as a coot's, and that he had covered the nakedness of his nob, up to the present time, by a flowing Caxon, which, during the heat of the action, had somehow been dislodged, and was lost; yet was the major riding hither and thither, digging the spurs into his horse's flanks, and just as busy as before the firing had ceased. "A guinea," he kept crying as he rode, "to any man who will find my wig!" The men, I remember, notwithstanding the sight of the wounded and dead around them, burst into shouts of laughter at him as he went; and "a guinea to any man who will find my wig," was the saying amongst us long after that affair. Many a man has died in crossing a brook, it is said, who has escaped the broad waves of the Atlantic half-a-dozen times; the major had escaped the shot and shell of the enemy in many a hard-fought field, and came off with credit and renown; but it is somewhat singular that Punch and Judy were the individuals who were destined by the Fates to cut his thread of life, for his horse was startled one day, as he rode through the streets of Dublin city, by the clatter those worthies made with their sticks in one of their domestic quarrels, and, swerving to one side, that noble soldier was killed. THE FAMILY OF THE COMYNS. In the band of the first battalion of the Rifles, we had a father and seven sons, of the name of Comyns. The elder son, who was called Fluellyn, was the best musician of them all, and on the regiment going on service to Portugal, he was made band-master. Whilst fighting against Massena, Fluellyn Comyns, one night, took offence at a man named Cadogan, also belonging to our band, and, catching him at advantage, beat him so severely that he left him for dead. The transaction having been seen by some of the soldiery, Fluellyn Comyn was fearful of the consequences, and, supposing he had committed murder, fled to Marshal Massena's army, where he was received kindly, and, in consequence of his musical knowledge, promoted to a good situation in the band of one of the French regiments. After a while, however, he made some mistake or other there, and, the French army being no safe place for him any longer, he once more changed service, and returned amongst his old companions, the Rifles, where he found, to his surprise, Cadogan in the ranks, sound and well again. This species of inconstancy not being approved of by our leaders, he was tried by court-martial, and sentenced to be shot. Two or three other men, who had also committed heavy crimes, were under orders at the same time, I recollect, to undergo the same punishment. Colonel Beckwith was at that time our lieutenant-colonel, and, having a great respect for Comyn's father, made application to the Duke of Wellington for a pardon for his son Fluellyn. Accordingly, when he was brought forth amongst the other criminals, it was notified to him that, taking into consideration the interest made by his lieutenant-colonel, he should be forgiven: but the Duke, I understand, desired it to be expressly stated to him, that if he ever detected him in that country again, in the garb of a soldier in the British service, nothing should save him from punishment. Comyn, therefore, left Spain, without the good wish of a single man in our corps, for he was pretty well known to be altogether a bad subject. Meanwhile, the news had reached his friends in England that he had been shot, and his wife, having quickly found a substitute, was married again, when he thought proper, somewhat tardily, to seek his home. At first the meeting was rather a stormy one, and the neighbours thought that murder would ensue, for Comyn found himself provided, not only with a locum tenens, but also with a little baby, neither of whom he could possibly have any great liking for. However, matters were eventually amicably arranged, and Fluellyn Comyn having made out his claim, and satisfied the second husband that he had never had a musket-ball in his body, broke up the establishment, and took his wife off to Hythe, in Kent, where he again enlisted in the third battalion of the Rifles, and joined them at Shoreham Cliff. In the third battalion he once more displayed his art, and, from his excellence as a musician, was made master of the band. Not satisfied with his good fortune, he again misconducted himself, and was once more reduced to the ranks. After a while he succeeded in getting exchanged to the eighty-fifth regiment, where he likewise managed to insinuate himself into the good graces of the commanding officer, and by his musical talents, also, once more, into the situation of master of the band. Here he might even yet have retrieved himself, and lived happily, but he began to cut fresh capers, and his ill-disposition and drunken conduct were so apparent the moment he got into an easy way of life, that it was found impossible to keep him in the situation, and he was again reduced, and eventually entirely dismissed, as too bad for anything. One of his brothers had, meanwhile, obtained the situation he held in the first battalion of the Rifles, and was greatly respected for his good conduct. He was killed, I remember, at Vittoria, by a cannon-ball striking his head from his shoulders. The other five Comyns, as far as I ever knew, lived and prospered in the service. The old father was eventually discharged, and received a pension. What was, however, the ultimate fate of the bad sheep of this flock (Fluellyn Comyn), and whether he ever succeeded in becoming a band-master in the service of any other country, or whether he ultimately reached a still more elevated situation, I never heard, but should think from all I knew and have related, that it was not likely he ever came to good. GENERAL NAPIER. I remember meeting with General Napier before the battle of Vimiero. He was then, I think, a major; and the meeting made so great an impression on me, that I have never forgotten him. I was posted in a wood the night before the battle, in the front of our army, where two roads crossed each other. The night was gloomy, and I was the very out-sentry of the British army. As I stood on my post, peering into the thick wood around me, I was aware of footsteps approaching, and challenged in a low voice. Receiving no answer, I brought my rifle to the port, and bade the strangers come forward. They were Major Napier, (then of the 50th foot, I think,) and an officer of the Rifles. The major advanced close up to me, and looked hard in my face. "Be alert here, sentry," said he, "for I expect the enemy upon us to-night, and I know not how soon." I was a young soldier then, and the lonely situation I was in, together with the impressive manner in which Major Napier delivered his caution, made a great impression on me, and from that hour I have never forgotten him. Indeed, I kept careful watch all night, listening to the slightest breeze amongst the foliage, in expectation of the sudden approach of the French. They ventured not, however, to molest us. Henry Jessop, one of my companions in the Rifles, sank and died of fatigue on this night, and I recollect some of our men burying him in the wood at day-break, close to my post. During the battle, next day, I remarked the gallant style in which the 50th, Major Napier's regiment, came to the charge. They dashed upon the enemy like a torrent breaking bounds, and the French, unable even to bear the sight of them, turned and fled. Methinks at this moment I can hear the cheer of the British soldiers in the charge, and the clatter of the Frenchmen's accoutrements, as they turned in an instant, and went off, hard as they could run for it. I remember, too, our feeling towards the enemy on that occasion was the north side of friendly; for they had been firing upon us Rifles very sharply, greatly outnumbering our skirmishers, and appearing inclined to drive us off the face of the earth. Their lights, and grenadiers, I, for the first time, particularly remarked on that day. The grenadiers (the 70th, I think) our men seemed to know well. They were all fine-looking young men, wearing red shoulder-knots and tremendous-looking moustaches. As they came swarming upon us, they rained a perfect shower of balls, which we returned quite as sharply. Whenever one of them was knocked over, our men called out "There goes another of Boney's Invincibles." In the main body, immediately in our rear, were the second battalion 52nd, the 50th, the second battalion 43rd, and a German corps, whose number I do not remember, besides several other regiments. The whole line seemed annoyed and angered at seeing the Rifles outnumbered by the Invincibles, and as we fell back, "firing and retiring," galling them handsomely as we did so, the men cried out (as it were with one voice) to charge. "D—n them!" they roared, "charge! charge!" General Fane, however, restrained their impetuosity. He desired them to stand fast, and keep their ground. "Don't be too eager, men," he said, as coolly as if we were on a drill-parade in old England; "I don't want you to advance just yet. Well done, 95th!" he called out, as he galloped up and down the line; "well done 43rd, 52nd, and well done all. I'll not forget, if I live, to report your conduct to-day. They shall hear of it in England, my lads!" |
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