THE LANDING.

What a contrast to the dull monotony of our life at sea did the scene present which awaited us on landing in Lisbon. The whole quay was crowded with hundreds of people eagerly watching the vessel which bore from her mast the broad ensign of Britain. Dark-featured, swarthy, mustached faces, with red caps rakishly set on one side, mingled with the Saxon faces and fair-haired natives of our own country. Men-of-war boats plied unceasingly to and fro across the tranquil river, some slender reefer in the stern-sheets, while behind him trailed the red pennon of some “tall admiral.”

The din and clamor of a mighty city mingled with the far-off sounds of military music; and in the vistas of the opening street, masses of troops might be seen in marching order; and all betokened the near approach of war.

Our anchor had scarcely been dropped, when an eight-oar gig, with a midshipman steering, came alongside.

“Ship ahoy, there! You’ve troops on board?”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

Before the answer could be spoken, he was on the deck.

“May I ask,” said he, touching his cap slightly, “who is the officer in command of the detachment?”

“Captain Power; very much at your service,” said Fred, returning the salute.

“Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Douglas requests that you will do him the favor to come on board immediately, and bring your despatches with you.”

“I’m quite ready,” said Power, as he placed his papers in his sabretasche; “but first tell us what’s doing here. Anything new lately?”

“I have heard nothing, except of some affair with the Portuguese,—they’ve been drubbed again; but our people have not been engaged. I say, we had better get under way; there’s our first lieutenant with his telescope up; he’s looking straight at us. So, come along. Good-evening, gentlemen.” And in another moment the sharp craft was cutting the clear water, while Power gayly waved us a good-by.

“Who’s for shore?” said the skipper, as half-a-dozen boats swarmed around the side, or held on by their boat-hooks to the rigging.

“Who is not?” said Monsoon, who now appeared in his old blue frock covered with tarnished braiding, and a cocked hat that might have roofed a pagoda. “Who is not, my old boy? Is not every man among us delighted with the prospect of fresh prog, cool wine, and a bed somewhat longer than four feet six? I say, O’Malley! Sparks! Where’s the adjutant? Ah, there he is! We’ll not mind the doctor,—he’s a very jovial little fellow, but a damned bore, entre nous; and we’ll have a cosy little supper at the Rue di Toledo. I know the place well. Whew, now! Get away, boy. Sit steady, Sparks; she’s only a cockleshell. There; that’s the Plaza de la Regna,—there, to the left. There’s the great cathedral,—you can’t see it now. Another seventy-four! Why there’s a whole fleet here! I wish old Power joy of his afternoon with old Douglas.”

“Do you know him then, Major?”

“Do I?—I should rather think I do. He was going to put me in irons here in this river once. A great shame it was; but I’ll tell you the story another time. There, gently now; that’s it. Thank God! once more upon land. How I do hate a ship; upon my life, a sauce-boat is the only boat endurable in this world.”

We edged our way with difficulty through the dense crowd, and at last reached the Plaza. Here the numbers were still greater, but of a different class: several pretty and well-dressed women, with their dark eyes twinkling above their black mantillas as they held them across their faces, watched with an intense curiosity one of the streets that opened upon the square.

In a few moments the band of a regiment was heard, and very shortly after the regular tramp of troops followed, as the Eighty-seventh marched into the Plaza, and formed a line.

The music ceased; the drums rolled along the line; and the next moment all was still. It was really an inspiriting sight to one whose heart was interested in the career, to see those gallant fellows, as, with their bronzed faces and stalwart frames, they stood motionless as a rock. As I continued to look, the band marched into the middle of the square, and struck up, “Garryowen.” Scarcely was the first part played, when a tremendous cheer burst from the troop-ship in the river. The welcome notes had reached the poor fellows there; the well-known sounds that told of home and country met their ears; and the loud cry of recognition bespoke their hearts’ fullness.

“There they go. Your wild countrymen have heard their Ranz des vaches, it seems. Lord! how they frightened the poor Portuguese; look how they’re running!”

Such was actually the case. The loud cheer uttered from the river was taken up by others straggling on shore, and one universal shout betokened that fully one-third of the red-coats around came from the dear island, and in their enthusiasm had terrified the natives to no small extent.

“Is not that Ferguson there!” cried the major, as an officer passed us with his arm in a sling. “I say, Joe—Ferguson! oh, knew it was!”

“Monsoon, my hearty, how goes it?—only just arrived, I see. Delighted to meet you out here once more. Why, we’ve been as dull as a veteran battalion without you. These your friends? Pray present me.” The ceremony of introduction over, the major invited Ferguson to join our party at supper. “No, not to-night, Major,” said he, “you must be my guests this evening. My quarters are not five minutes’ walk from this; I shall not promise you very luxurious fare.”

“A carbonade with olives, a roast duck, a bowl of bishop, and, if you will, a few bottles of Burgundy,” said the major; “don’t put yourself out for us,—soldier’s fare, eh?”

I could not help smiling at the naÏve notion of simplicity so cunningly suggested by old Monsoon. As I followed the party through the streets, my step was light, my heart not less so; for what sensations are more delightful than those of landing after a voyage? The escape from the durance vile of shipboard, with its monotonous days and dreary nights, its ill-regulated appointments, its cramped accommodation, its uncertain duration, its eternal round of unchanging amusements, for the freedom of the shore, with a land breeze, and a firm footing to tread upon; and certainly, not least of all, the sight of that brightest part of creation, whose soft eyes and tight ankles are, perhaps, the greatest of all imaginable pleasures to him who has been the dweller on blue water for several weeks long.

“Here we are,” cried out Ferguson, as we stopped at the door of a large and handsome house. We follow up a spacious stair into an ample room, sparingly, but not uncomfortably furnished: plans of sieges, maps of the seat of war, pistols, sabres, and belts decorated the white walls, and a few books and a stray army list betokened the habits of the occupant.

While Ferguson disappeared to make some preparations for supper, Monsoon commenced a congratulation to the party upon the good fortune that had befallen them. “Capital fellow is Joe; never without something good, and a rare one to pass the bottle. Oh, here he comes. Be alive there, Sparks, take a corner of the cloth; how deliciously juicy that ham looks. Pass the Madeira down there; what’s under that cover,—stewed kidneys?” While Monsoon went on thus we took our places at the table, and set to with an appetite which only a newly-landed traveller ever knows.

“Another spoonful of the gravy? Thank you. And so they say we’ve not been faring over well latterly?” said the major.

“Not a word of truth in the report. Our people have not been engaged. The only thing lately was a smart brush we had at the Tamega. Poor Patrick, a countryman of ours, and myself were serving with the Portuguese brigade, when Laborde drove us back upon the town and actually routed us. The Portuguese general, caring little for anything save his own safety, was making at once for the mountains when Patrick called upon his battalion to face about and charge; and nobly they did it, too. Down they came upon the advancing masses of the French, and literally hurled them back upon the main body. The other regiments, seeing this gallant stand, wheeled about and poured in a volley, and then, fixing bayonets, stormed a little mount beside the hedge, which commanded the whole suburb of Villa Real. The French, who soon recovered their order, now prepared for a second attack, and came on in two dense columns, when Patrick, who had little confidence in the steadiness of his people for any lengthened resistance, resolved upon once more charging with the bayonet. The order was scarcely given when the French were upon us, their flank defended by some of La Houssaye’s heavy dragoons. For an instant the conflict was doubtful, until poor Patrick fell mortally wounded upon the parapet; when the men, no longer hearing his bold cheer, nor seeing his noble figure in the advance, turned and fled, pell-mell, back upon the town. As for me, blocked up amidst the mass, I was cut down from the shoulder to the elbow by a young fellow of about sixteen, who galloped about like a schoolboy on a holiday. The wound was only dangerous from the loss of blood, and so I contrived to reach Amacante without much difficulty; from whence, with three or four others, I was ordered here until fit for service.”

“But what news from our own head-quarters?” inquired I.

“All imaginable kind of rumors are afloat. Some say that Craddock is retiring; others, that a part of the army is in motion upon Caldas.”

“Then we are not going to have a very long sojourn here, after all, eh, Major? Donna Maria de Tormes will be inconsolable. By-the-bye, their house is just opposite us. Have you never heard Monsoon mention his friends there?”

“Come, come, Joe, how can you be so foolish?”

“But, Major, my dear friend, what signifies your modesty? There is not a man in the service does not know it, save those in the last gazette.”

“Indeed, Joe, I am very angry with you.”

“Well, then, by Jove! I must tell it, myself; though, faith, lads, you lose not a little for want of Monsoon’s tact in the narrative.”

“Anything is better that trusting to such a biographer,” cried the major; “so here goes:—

“When I was acting commissary-general to the Portuguese forces some few years ago, I obtained great experience of the habits of the people; for though naturally of an unsuspecting temperament myself, I generally contrive to pick out the little foibles of my associates, even upon a short acquaintance. Now, my appointment pleased me very much on this score,—it gave me little opportunities of examining the world. ‘The greatest study of mankind is man,’—Sparks would say woman, but no matter.

“Now, I soon discovered that our ancient and very excellent allies, the Portuguese, with a beautiful climate, delicious wines, and very delightful wives and daughters, were the most infernal rogues and scoundrels ever met with. ‘Make yourself thoroughly acquainted with the leading features of the natives,’ said old Sir Harry to me in a despatch from head-quarters; and, faith, it was not difficult,—such open, palpable, undisguised rascals never were heard of. I thought I knew a thing or two myself, when I landed; but, Lord love you! I was a babe, I was an infant in swaddling clothes, compared with them; and they humbugged me,—ay, me!—till I began to suspect that I was only walking in my sleep.

“‘Why, Monsoon,’ said the general, ‘they told me you were a sharp fellow, and yet the people here seem to work round you every day. This will never do. You must brighten up a little or I shall be obliged to send you back.’

“‘General,’ said I, ‘they used to call me no fool in England; but, somehow, here—’

“‘I understand,’ said he; ‘you don’t know the Portuguese; there’s but one way with them,—strike quickly, and strike home. Never give them time for roguery,—for if they have a moment’s reflection, they’ll cheat the devil himself; but when you see the plot working, come slap down and decide the thing your own way.’

“Well, now, there never was anything so true as this advice, and for the eighteen months I acted upon it, I never knew it to fail.

“‘I want a thousand measures of wheat.’

“‘Senhor Excellenza, the crops have been miserably deficient, and——’

“‘Sergeant-major,’ I would say, ‘these poor people have no corn; it’s a wine country,—let them make up the rations that way.’

“The wheat came in that evening.

“‘One hundred and twenty bullocks wanted for the reserve.’

“‘The cattle are all up the mountains.’

“‘Let the alcalde catch them before night or I’ll catch him.’

“Lord bless you! I had beef enough to feed the Peninsula. And in this way, while the forces were eating short allowance and half rations elsewhere, our brigade were plump as aldermen.

“When we lay in Andalusia this was easy enough. What a country, to be sure! Such vineyards, such gardens, such delicious valleys, waving with corn and fat with olives; actually, it seemed a kind of dispensation of Providence to make war in. There was everything you could desire; and then, the people, like all your wealthy ones, were so timid, and so easily frightened, you could get what you pleased out of them by a little terror. My scouts managed this very well.

“‘He is coming,’ they would say, ‘after to-morrow.’

“‘Madre de Dios!’

“‘I hope he won’t burn the village.’

“‘Questos infernales Ingleses! how wicked they are.’

“‘You’d better try what a sack of moidores or doubloons might do with him; he may refuse them, but make the effort.’

“Ha!” said the major, with a long-drawn sigh, “those were pleasant times; alas, that they should ever come to an end! Well, among the old hidalgos I met there was one Don Emanuel Selvio de Tormes, an awful old miser, rich as Croesus, and suspicious as the arch-fiend himself. Lord, how I melted him down! I quartered two squadrons of horse and a troop of flying artillery upon him. How the fellows did eat! Such a consumption of wines was never heard of; and as they began to slacken a little, I took care to replace them by fresh arrivals,—fellows from the mountains, caÇadores they call them. At last, my friend Don Emanuel could stand it no longer, and he sent me a diplomatic envoy to negotiate terms, which, upon the whole, I must say, were fair enough; and in a few days after, the caÇadores were withdrawn, and I took up my quarters at the chÂteau. I have had various chances and changes in this wicked world, but I am free to confess that I never passed a more agreeable time than the seven weeks I spent there. Don Emanuel, when properly managed, became a very pleasant little fellow; Donna Maria, his wife, was a sweet creature. You need not be winking that way. Upon my life she was: rather fat, to be sure, and her age something verging upon the fifties; but she had such eyes, black as sloes, and luscious as ripe grapes; and she was always smiling and ogling, and looking so sweet. Confound me, if I think she wasn’t the most enchanting being in this world, with about ten thousand pounds’ worth of jewels upon her fingers and in her ears. I have her before me at this instant, as she used to sit in the little arbor in the garden, with a Manilla cigar in her mouth, and a little brandy-and-water—quite weak, you know—beside her.

“‘Ah, General,’ she used to say—she always called me general—‘what a glorious career yours is! A soldier is indeed a man.’

“Then she would look at poor Emanuel, who used to sit in a corner, holding his hand to his face, for hours, calculating interest and cent per cent, till he fell asleep.

“Now, he labored under a very singular malady,—not that I ever knew it at the time,—a kind of luxation of the lower jaw, which, when it came on, happened somehow to press upon some vital nerve or other, and left him perfectly paralyzed till it was restored to its proper place. In fact, during the time the agony lasted, he was like one in a trance; for though he could see and hear, he could neither speak nor move, and looked as if he had done with both for many a day to come.

“Well, as I was saying, I knew nothing of all this till a slight circumstance made it known to me. I was seated one evening in the little arbor I mentioned, with Donna Maria. There was a little table before us covered with wines and fruits, a dish of olives, some Castile oranges, and a fresh pine. I remember it well: my eye roved over the little dessert set out in old-fashioned, rich silver dishes, then turned towards the lady herself, with rings and brooches, earrings and chains enough to reward one for sacking a town; and I said to myself, ‘Monsoon, Monsoon, this is better than long marches in the Pyrenees, with a cork-tree for a bed-curtain, and wet grass for a mattress. How pleasantly one might jog on in this world with this little country-house for his abode, and Donna Maria for a companion!’

“I tasted the port; it was delicious. Now, I knew very little Portuguese, but I made some effort to ask if there was much of it in the cellar.

“She smiled, and said, ‘Oh, yes.’

“‘What a luxurious life one might lead here!’ thought I; ‘and after all, perhaps Providence might remove Don Emanuel.’

“I finished the bottle as I thus meditated. The next was, if possible, more crusty.

“‘This is a delicious retreat,’ said I, soliloquizing.

“Donna Maria seemed to know what was passing in my mind, for she smiled, too.

“‘Yes,’ said I, in broken Portuguese, ‘one ought to be very happy here, Donna Maria.’

“She blushed, and I continued:—

“‘What can one want for more in this life? All the charms that rendered Paradise what it was’—I took her hand here—‘and made Adam blessed.’

“‘Ah, General!’ said she, with a sigh, ‘you are such a flatterer.’

“‘Who could flatter,’ said I, with enthusiasm, ‘when there are not words enough to express what he feels?’ This was true, for my Portuguese was fast failing me, ‘But if I ever was happy, it is now.’

“I took another pull at the port.

“‘If I only thought,’ said I, ‘that my presence here was not thought unwelcome—’

“‘Fie, General,’ said she, ‘how could you say such a thing?’

“‘If I only thought I was not hated,’ said I, tremblingly.

“‘Oh!’ said she, again.

“‘Despised.’

“‘Oh!’

“‘Loathed.’

“She pressed my hand, I kissed hers; she hurriedly snatched it from me, and pointed towards a lime-tree near, beneath which, in the cool enjoyment of his cigar, sat the spare and detested figure of Don Emanuel.

“‘Yes,’ thought I, ‘there he is,—the only bar to my good fortune; were it not for him, I should not be long before I became possessor of this excellent old chÂteau, with a most indiscretionary power over the cellar. Don Mauricius Monsoon would speedily assume his place among the grandees of Portugal.’

“I know not how long my revery lasted, nor, indeed, how the evening passed; but I remember well the moon was up, and a sky, bright with a thousand stars was shining, as I sat beside the fair Donna Maria, endeavoring, with such Portuguese as it had pleased fate to bestow on me, to instruct her touching my warlike services and deeds of arms. The fourth bottle of port was ebbing beneath my eloquence, as responsively her heart beat, when I heard a slight rustle in the branches near. I looked, and, Heavens, what a sight did I behold! There was little Don Emanuel stretched upon the grass with his mouth wide open, his face pale as death, his arms stretched out at either side, and his legs stiffened straight out. I ran over and asked if he were ill, but no answer came. I lifted up an arm, but it fell heavily upon the ground as I let it go; the leg did likewise. I touched his nose; it was cold.

“‘Hollo,’ thought I, ‘is it so? This comes of mixing water with your sherry. I saw where it would end.’

“Now, upon my life! I felt sorry for the little fellow; but somehow, one gets so familiarized with this sort of thing in a campaign that one only half feels in a case like this.

“‘Yes,’ said I, ‘man is but grass; but I for one must make hay when the sun shines. Now for the Donna Maria,’—for the poor thing was asleep in the arbor all this while.

“‘Donna,’ said I, shaking her by the elbow,—‘Donna, don’t be shocked at what I’m going to say.’

“‘Ah, General,’ said she, with a sigh, ‘say no more; I must not listen to you.’

“‘You don’t know that,’ said I, with a knowing look,—‘you don’t know that.’

“‘Why, what can you mean?’

“‘The little fellow is done for.’ For the port was working strong now, and destroyed all my fine sensibility. ‘Yes, Donna,’ said I, ‘you are free,’—here I threw myself upon my knees,—‘free to make me the happiest of commissaries and the jolliest grandee of Portugal that ever—’

“‘But Don Emanuel?’

“‘Run out, dry, empty,’ inverting a finished decanter to typify my words as I spoke.

“‘He is not dead?’ said she, with a scream.

“‘Even so,’ said I, with a hiccough! ‘ordered for service in a better world, where there are neither inspections nor arrears.’

“Before the words were well out, she sprang from the bench and rushed over to the spot where the little don lay. What she said or did I know not, but the next moment he sat bolt upright on the grass, and as he held his jaw with one hand and supported himself on the other, vented such a torrent of abuse and insult at me, that, for want of Portuguese enough to reply, I rejoined in English, in which I swore pretty roundly for five minutes. Meanwhile the donna had summoned the servants, who removed Don Emanuel to the house, where on my return I found my luggage displayed before the door, with a civil hint to deploy in orderly time and take ground elsewhere.

“In a few days, however, his anger cooled down, and I received a polite note from Donna Maria, that the don at length began to understand the joke, and begged that I would return to the chÂteau, and that he would expect me at dinner the same day.”

“With which, of course, you complied?”

“Which of course I did. Forgive your enemies, my dear boy,—it is only Christian-like; and really, we lived very happily ever after. The donna was a mighty clever woman, and a dear good soul besides.”

It was late when the major concluded his story; so after wishing Ferguson a good-night, we took our leave, and retired for the night to our quarters.