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

"Well, you have youth and good health and good spirits in your favour. If all our patients took things as cheerfully as you do, there would not be so many of them slip through our hands."

Bull, who had been brought in immediately after Terence, was next attended to. He was unconscious. He had been struck by a round shot in the shoulder, which had not only smashed the bone, but almost carried away the upper part of the arm.

"An ugly wound," the surgeon said to his colleague. "At any rate, we may as well take off the arm while he is unconscious. It will save him a second shock, and we can better bandage the wound when it is removed."

A low moan was the only sign that the wounded man had any consciousness that the operation was being performed.

"Will he get over it, Doctor?" Terence asked, when the surgeon had finished.

"There is just a chance, but it is a faint one. Has he been a sober man?"

"Very; I can answer for the last four years, at any rate. All the Portuguese officers were abstemious men; and I think that Bull felt that it would not do for him, commanding a battalion, to be less sober than they were."

"That increases his chance. Men who drink have everything against them when they get a severe wound; but he has lost a great deal of blood, and the shock has, of course, been a terrible one."

An orderly was told to administer a few spoonfuls of brandy and water, and the surgeon then moved on to the next bed.

The next morning, one of the surgeons brought a basketful of fruit to Terence.

"There is a young woman outside, colonel," he said, with a slight smile, "who was crying so bitterly that I was really obliged to bring this fruit up to you. She said you would know who she was, and was heartbroken that she could not be allowed to come up to nurse you. She said that she had heard, from one of your men, of your wound. I told her that it was quite impossible that any civilian should enter the hospital, but said that I would take her fruit up and, if she would come every day at five o'clock in the afternoon, when we went off duty for an hour, I would tell her how you were going on."

"She used to sell fruit to the prisoners here," Terence said, "and it was entirely by her aid that I effected my escape, last year; and she got a muleteer, to whom she is engaged, to take me down from here to Cadiz. I bought her a present when we entered the town and, the other day, told her I hoped to dance at her wedding before long. However, that engagement will not come off. My dancing days are over."

The surgeon felt his pulse.

"There is very little fever," he said. "So far you are going on marvellously; but you must not be disappointed if you get a sharp turn, presently. You can hardly expect to get through a wound like this without having a touch, and perhaps a severe one, of fever."

"Is there any harm in my eating fruit?"

"I would not eat any, but you can drink some of the juice, mixed with water. I hope we shall have everything comfortable by tonight; of course, we are all in the rough, at present. Although many of the doctors of the town have been helping us, I don't think there is one medical officer in the army who has taken off his coat since the wounded began to come in, yesterday morning."

That night Terence's wound became very painful. Inflammation, accompanied of course with fever, set in and, for a fortnight, he was very ill. At the end of that time matters began to mend, and the wound soon assumed a healthy appearance. An operation had been performed, and the projecting bone cut off.

There were dire sufferings in Salamanca. Six thousand wounded had to be cared for, the French prisoners and their guards fed; and the army had no organization to meet so great a strain. Numbers of lives that might have been saved, by care and proper attention, were lost; and the spirit of discontent and insubordination, which had its origin in the excesses committed in the sack of the fortresses, rapidly increased.

The news from the front, after a time, seemed more satisfactory. Clausel had been hotly pursued. Had the king with his army joined him, as he might have done, he would have been in a position to again attack the enemy with greatly superior numbers; but Joseph hesitated, and delayed until it was no longer possible. The British army crossed the mountains, and the king was obliged to retire from Madrid and evacuate the capital; which was entered by Wellington on the 25th of August.

Early in September, the chief surgeon said to Terence:

"There is a convoy of sick going down, at the end of the week. I think that it would be best for you to go with them. In the first place, the air of this town is not favourable for recoveries. In some of the hospitals a large number of men have been carried off by the fever, which so often breaks out when the conditions are bad. In the next place, I am privately informed, by the governor, that he has received orders from the general to send all who are capable of bearing the journey across the frontier, as soon as possible. Another battle may be fought, at any moment. The reinforcements that have come from England are nothing like sufficient to replace the gaps in the army.

"The French generals are collecting their forces, and it is certain that Wellington will not be able to withstand their combination and, if he should be compelled to retreat, it is all important that he should not be hampered by the necessity of carrying off huge convoys of wounded. The difficulties of transport are already enormous; and it is, therefore, for many reasons desirable that all who are sufficiently convalescent to march, and all for whom transport can be provided, should start without delay."

"I should be very glad, Doctor. I have not seemed to gain strength, for the last week or ten days; but I believe that, if I were in the open air, I should gain ground rapidly."

Nita had been allowed to come up several times to see Terence, since his convalescence began; and the last time she had called had told him that Garcia had returned, being altogether dissatisfied with the feeble proceedings of the guerilla chief. She came up that afternoon, soon after the doctor left, and he told her the news that he had received. The next day she told Terence that Garcia had arranged with her father for his waggon and two bullocks, and that he himself would drive it to Lisbon, if necessary.

"They are fine bullocks, sir," she said, "and there is no fear of their breaking down. Last night I was talking to one of your sergeants, who comes to me every day for news of you. He says that he and about forty of your men are going down with the convoy. All are able to walk. It is so difficult to get carts that only officers who cannot walk are to be taken, this time."

"It is very good of Garcia and your father, Nita, but I should manage just as well as the others."

"That may be, senor, but it is better to have a friend with you who knows the country. There may be difficulty in getting provisions, and they say that there is a good deal of plundering along the roads; for troops that have lately come up have behaved so badly that the peasants declare they will have revenge, and treat them as enemies if they have the opportunity. Altogether, it is as well to have a friend with you."

Terence told the surgeon next morning what had been arranged, and said:

"So we shall have room for one more, Doctor. Is Major Bull well enough to go with me? He could travel in my waggon, which is sure to be large enough for two to lie in, comfortably."

"Certainly he can. He is making a slow recovery, and I should be glad to send him away, only I have no room for him. If he goes with you, I can send another officer down, also, in the place you would have had."

Accordingly, on the Saturday morning the convoy started. Bull and Terence met for the first time, since the day of the battle; as the former had been removed to another room, after the operation. He was extremely weak, still, and had to be carried down and placed in the waggon by the side of Terence. Garcia had been greatly affected at the latter's appearance.

"I should scarce have known you again, senor."

"I am pulled down a bit, Garcia, but by the time we get to our journey's end, you will see that I shall be a very different man. How comfortable you have made the waggon!"

"I have done what I could, senor. At the bottom are six sacks of corn, for it may be that forage will run short. Then I have filled it with hay, and there are enough rugs to lie on, and to cover you well over at night; and down among the sacks is a good-sized box with some good wine, two hams of Nita's father's curing, and a stock of sausages, and other things for the journey."

Nita came to say goodbye, and wept unrestrainedly at the parting. She and Garcia had opened the little box, and found in it fifty sovereigns; and had agreed to be married, as soon as Garcia returned from his journey. As the train of thirty waggons--of which ten contained provisions for use on the road--issued from the gates, they were joined by the convalescents, four hundred in number. All able to do so carried their arms, the muskets of the remainder being placed on the provision waggons.

"Have you heard from the regiment, Bull?" Terence asked, after they had talked over their time in hospital, and their comrades who had fallen.

"No, sir. There is no one I should expect to write to me."

"I had a letter from Ryan, yesterday," Terence said. "He tells me that they have had no fighting since we left. They form only one battalion now, and he says the state of things in Madrid is dreadful. The people are dying of hunger, and the British officers have subscribed and started soup kitchens; and that he, with the other Portuguese regiments, were to march the next day, with three British divisions and the cavalry, to join General Clinton, who was falling back before Clausel."

"'We all miss you horribly, Terence. Herrara does his best, but he has not the influence over the men that you had. If we have to fall back into Portugal again, which seems to me quite possible, for little more than 20,000 men are fit to carry arms, I fancy that there won't be a great many left round the colours by the spring.

"'Upon my word, I can hardly blame them, Terence. More than half of those who originally joined have fallen and, no doubt, the poor fellows think that they have done more than their share towards defending their country.'"

By very short marches, the convoy made its way to the frontier. The British convalescents remained at Guarda, the Portuguese marched for Pinhel, and the carts with the wounded officers continued their journey to Lisbon. The distance travelled had been over two hundred and fifty miles and, including halts, they had taken five weeks to perform it. Terence gained strength greatly during the journey, and Bull had so far recovered that he was able to get out and walk, sometimes, by the side of the waggon.

Garcia had been indefatigable in his efforts for their comfort. Every day he formed an arbour over their waggon, with freshly-cut boughs brought in by the soldiers of the regiment; and this kept off the rays of the sun, and the flies. At the villages at which they stopped, most of the wounded were accommodated in the houses; but Terence and Bull preferred to sleep in the waggon, the hay being always freshly shaken out for them, in the evening. The supplies they carried were most useful in eking out the rations, and Garcia proved himself an excellent cook. Altogether, the journey had been a pleasant one.

On arriving at Lisbon, they were taken to the principal hospital. Here the few who would be fit for service again were admitted, while the rest were ordered to be taken down, at once, to a hospital transport lying in the river. At the landing place they said goodbye to Garcia, who refused firmly any remuneration for his services, or for