Under Wellington's Command: A Tale of the Peninsular War by G. A. Henty (best pdf ebook reader txt) 📗

The Portuguese battalions had fought well, as had the German regiment; but it was upon the British that the whole brunt of the fight had fallen. In the four hours that the combat lasted, 7000 of the allies and over 8000 of the French had been killed or wounded. Of the 6000 British infantry, only 1800 remained standing when the battle was over, 4200 being killed or wounded; 600 Germans and Portuguese were placed hors de combat; while of the Spaniards, who formed the great mass of the army, 2000 were killed or wounded by the French artillery and musketry, or cut down while in disorder by the French cavalry.

Never was the indomitable valour of British infantry more markedly shown than at the battle of Albuera. The battle had been brought on, in no small degree, by their anxiety for action. The regiments had been disappointed that, while their comrades were sharing in Wellington's pursuit of Massena, they were far away from the scene of conflict; and when Beresford would have fallen back, as it would have been prudent to do, they became so insubordinate that he gave way to their desire to meet the French; and so fought a battle where defeat would have upset all Wellington's plans for the campaign, and victory would have brought no advantages with it. Like Inkerman, it was a soldiers' battle. Beresford's dispositions were faulty in the extreme and, tactically, the day was lost before the fighting began.

The Spanish portion of the army did no real fighting and, in their confusion, involved the loss of nearly the whole of a British brigade; and it was only by the unconquerable valour of the remainder of the British force that victory was gained, against enormous odds, and that against some of the best troops of France.

Terence was in the habit of often going down and chatting with the French guard at the gate. Their duties were tedious, and they were glad of a talk with this young British officer, who was the only prisoner in their keeping who spoke their language fluently; and from them he obtained what news they had of what was going on. A fortnight later, he gathered that the British force on the Aqueda had been greatly weakened, that there was no intention of laying siege to Ciudad, and it was believed that Wellington's main body had marched south to join Beresford.

This was, indeed, the only operation left open to the British general. Regnier's division of Marmont's army had joined Massena, and it would be impossible to besiege Ciudad while a force, greatly superior to his own, was within easy striking distance. On the other hand, Beresford was in no position to fight another battle and, as long as Badajoz remained in the hands of the French, they could at any time advance into Portugal; and its possession was therefore of paramount importance.

Marmont had succeeded Massena in command, the latter marshal having been recalled to France; and the great bulk of the French army was now concentrated round Salamanca, from which it could either march against the British force at Ciudad; or unite with Soult and, in overwhelming strength, either move against Cadiz or advance into Portugal. Wellington therefore left Spencer to guard the line of the Coa, and make demonstrations against Ciudad; while with the main body of his army he marched south.

The news decided Terence to attempt to make his escape in that direction. He did not know whether his own regiment would be with Spencer, or Wellington; but it was clear that more important events would be likely to take place near Badajoz than on the Coa. The French would be unlikely to choose the latter route for an advance into Portugal. The country had been stripped bare by the two armies that had marched across it. The roads were extremely bad, and it would be next to impossible for an army to carry with it sustenance for the march; still less for maintaining itself after it had traversed the passes. Moreover Spencer, falling back before them, would retire to the lines of Torres Vedras; and the invaders would find themselves, as Massena had done, baffled by that tremendous line of fortifications, where they might find also Wellington and his army, who would have shorter roads to follow, established before they arrived.

Some of the townspeople were allowed to pass in and out of the convent, to sell fruit and other articles to the British prisoners; and Terence thought it better to open negotiations with one of these, rather than one of the warders in French pay. He was not long in fixing upon one of them as an ally. She was a good-looking peasant girl, who came regularly with grapes and other fruit. From the first, Terence had made his purchases from her, and had stood chatting with her for some time.

"I want to get away from here, Nita," he said, on the day he received the news of Wellington's march to the south.

"I dare say, senor," she laughed. "I suppose all the other prisoners want the same."

"No doubt; but you see, they would not have much chance of getting away, because none of them understand Spanish. I talk it a little, as you see. So if I got out and had a disguise, I might very well make my way across the country."

"There are many brigands about," she said, "and it is not safe for a single man to travel anywhere. What do you want me to do?"

"I want a rope fifty feet long; not a very thick one, but strong enough to bear my weight. That is the first thing. Then I want a disguise; but that I could get, if a friend would be in readiness to give it to me, after I had slid down the rope into the street."

"How could I give you a rope, senor, with all these people about?"

"You could put it into the bottom of your basket, and cover it over with fruit. You could take your stand near the door, at the foot of the stairs leading up to my room. Then I could, in the hearing of the rest, say that it was my fete day; and that I was going to give the others a treat, so that I would buy all your grapes. After we had bargained for them, I could hand you the money and say:

"'Give me your basket. I will run upstairs, empty it, and bring it down to you.'

"As this would save my making five or six journeys upstairs, there would be nothing suspicious about that."

"I will think it over," the girl said, gravely. "I do not see that there would be much danger. I will give you an answer tomorrow."

The next day she said, when Terence went up to her, "I will do it, senor. I have a lover who is a muleteer. I spoke to him last night, and he will help you. Tomorrow I will give you the rope. In the afternoon you are to hang something out of your window; not far, but so that it can be just seen from the street. That red sash of yours will do very well. Do not let it go more than an inch or two beyond the window sill, so that it will not attract any attention.

"When the clock strikes ten, Garcia and I will be in the street below that window. This is a quiet neighbourhood, and no one is likely to be about. Garcia will have a suit of muleteer's clothes for you, and you can change at once. I will carry those you have on to our house, and destroy them. Garcia will take you to his lodging. He starts at daybreak with his mules, and you can travel with them."

"Thank you most heartily, Nita. Here are five gold pieces, for the purchase of the ropes and clothes."

"Oh, they will not cost anything like as much as that!" the girl said.

"If they don't, you must buy yourself a little keepsake, Nita, in remembrance of me; but I will send you something better worth having, by Garcia, when I reach our army, and am able to get money with which I can pay him for his labour and loss of time."

"I don't want money," the girl said, drawing herself up proudly. "I am helping you because I like you, and because you have come here to drive the French away."

"I should not think of offering you money, Nita. I know that it is out of pure kindness that you are doing it; but you could not refuse some little trinket to wear, on your wedding day."

"I may never get married," the girl said, with a pout.

"Oh, I know better than that, Nita! A girl with as pretty a face as yours would never remain single, and I should not be surprised if you were to tell me that the day is fixed already."

"It is not fixed, and is not likely to be, senor. I have told Garcia that I will never marry, as long as the French are here. He may go out with one of the partisan forces. He often talks about doing so, and might get shot any day by these brigands. When I am married, I am not going to stay at home by myself, while he is away among the mountains."

"Ah! Well, the war cannot last for ever. You may have Wellington here before the year is out. Give me your address, so that when we come, I may find you out."

"Callao San Salvador, Number 10. It is one of my uncles I am living with there. My home is in Burda, six miles away. It is a little village, and there are so many French bands ranging over the country that, a month ago, my father sent me in here to stay with my uncle; thinking that I should be safer in the city than in a little village. He brings fruit in for me to sell, twice a week."

"Very well. If we come here, I shall go to your uncle's and inquire for you and, if you have left him, I will go out to your village and find you."

All passed off as arranged, without the slightest hitch. Terence took the girl's basket and ran upstairs with it, emptied the fruit out on the table, thrust the rope under his bed, and ran down again and gave Nita the basket. At ten o'clock at night he slung himself from the window and after a hearty goodbye to his fellow prisoners--several of whom, now that it was too late, would gladly have shared in his adventure.

"I should be very glad if you were going with me, but at the same time I own that I do not think we should get through. I question, indeed, if the muleteer would take anyone who did not understand enough Spanish to pass, if he were questioned by French soldiers; and if he would do so, it would greatly increase the risk. At the same time, if one of you would like to take my place, I will relinquish it to you; and will, after you have gone off with the muleteer, go in another direction, and take my chance of getting hold of a disguise, somehow, and of making my way out."

None of the others would hear of this and, after extinguishing the light, so as to obviate the risk of anyone noticing him getting out of the window, Terence slipped down to the ground just as the clock struck ten.

"Good evening, senor!" a voice said, as his feet touched the ground. "Here is your disguise. Nita is watching a short distance away, and will give us notice if anyone approaches. You had best change, at once."

Terence took off his uniform and, with the assistance of the muleteer, donned the garments that he had brought for him. Then he rolled the others into a bundle, and the muleteer gave a low whistle, whereupon Nita came running up.

"Thanks be to the saints that no one has come along!" she said, as the rope, which Terence had forgotten, fell at their feet; his companions having, as agreed, untied the upper end.

"That will come in useful," Garcia said, coiling it up on his arm. "Now, senor, do not let us stand talking. Nita will take the uniform and burn it."

"I will hide it, if you like," the girl said. "There can be no reason for their searching our house."

"Thank you, Nita, but it would be better to destroy it, at once. It may be a long time before I come this way again; besides, the things have seen their best days, and I have another suit I can put on, when I join my regiment. Thanks very much for your kindness, which I shall always remember."

"Goodbye, senor! May the saints protect you!" and without giving him time to say more,