The Autobiography of Sergeant William Lawrence by William Lawrence (fiction novels to read TXT) 📖

reflection either from the stars or the light from the town, and so drew their attention to me. So much for bright dress and brass plates, thought I, though fortunately they had done me no harm; and now for the remedy that I proposed. I took the loading-rod from my musket, and stuck it fast into the ground, and placing my cap upon it, I proceeded about ten yards to the right and sat down; and it was fortunate that I did so, for during the night they put two shots through my cap, and that would have been awkward if my head had been inside. It is not to be supposed, however, that I sat there bareheaded all night, for I put on my slop or foraging cap, and then sat hearkening to the sound of chimes and bells pronouncing the hours of eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and four, and the occasional whizzing of shells and shot over my head.

At length, after hearing the bells strike the last-named hour, and seeing the dawn, too, beginning to peep over the distant horizon, knowing that my turn to be relieved had long since passed, I put back my loading rod into its place and my cap on my head, and decamped to the body picket. There I met the major, who seeing me return, and knowing that it was my turn for rest, asked me where I had been. I said, "Were you not with the officer when he placed me on sentry last night?" He replied; "Yes, has he not relieved you since?" On which I told him no, and that I thought it was time to relieve myself, likewise showing him my cap for him to judge what a hot night I had had of it. I also gave the reason that I thought for the officer's spite, which put him out terribly, so much so that he immediately called up the officer, who had retired to rest some hours, and told him that if they had not been so near the enemy, he would have had him tried by court-martial for his neglect: which might have ended by his being cashiered out of the service. That was the first and last time that he ever left me on sentry all night.

Our stay here, however, was of short duration for we proceeded further towards Olivencia, which was garrisoned by about four hundred of the enemy. We crossed the Guadiana near that place on a bridge constructed of empty casks and planks, and sat down before the town about the 11th of April. In a few days our batteries were all ready for action, and on the garrison refusing to surrender, we commenced firing, and soon made a breach; but at that point the governor, fearing an assault, immediately surrendered, and he and his garrison were all taken prisoners.

It was at this place that I parted with Tom. For being bothered by the colonel's servant to let him have my pet, I foolishly consented, though my comrades did their best to persuade me to keep him. He told me he wanted to take him to England, and gave me a dollar for him, but I afterwards found out that he had killed him for his master's dinner. I think I felt as sorry for that as I ever did for anything, for I dearly liked Tom.

From Olivencia we marched again towards Badajoz, but owing to Soult's army being on its way to relieve that town, Beresford had occupied the heights of Albuera, about thirteen miles southeast of Badajoz, in order to check the enemy if possible in their intended object. General Cole therefore advanced to Albuera as well, and the action had just commenced when he arrived. The Allies had taken up their position on a fine ridge of heights, and the French under Marshal Soult made their appearance on the 15th of May.

On the following morning they made an attack on the right, which was occupied by the Spaniards, who soon gave way in great disorder, again leaving the brunt of the battle to the British; and not only that, but also thus allowing the French to gain part of the heights. A noble attack, however, was made by the Second division, the first brigade of which in trying to gain the ridge was met by the fierce Polish Lancers, who slaughtered a tremendous number of them; in fact, the battle was at one time thought to have been gained by the French, and most likely would have been, had not Colonel Harding hurled part of our division and a reserve Portuguese brigade against the enemy, and so renewed the fight. General Cole himself led our fusiliers up the hill. Six British guns and some colours were then already in the enemy's possession, but Cole's troops soon dispersed the lancers, and, recapturing the guns and colours, drove the French down again in confusion.

It is useless for me to give any further details of this celebrated battle, for it has been already depicted so many times and so much more ably than I could do; but the Allies could not have lost less than seven thousand killed, wounded and missing, while the French loss was stated to be nine thousand. It was seldom, however, that we arrived at the correct estimate of the enemy's loss, it being generally the custom to state it as greater than ours, and my opinion is that in this battle the Allies lost quite an equal number to the French. The Spaniards especially must have sustained a great loss in their confusion. It was always a bother to get them to stir forward during a battle, but retreating was what they were best at, and then it was always in confusion; at the battle of Albuera indeed whilst they were in this state they even fired at random, and several shots went amongst the English.

General Cole was himself wounded in this engagement, which resulted so sadly for both parties; for it could hardly be termed a victory for either side, and if so it was a very dearly bought one. Still it was we who remained on the field in the end.

CHAPTER XII.

The siege of Badajoz converted into a blockade — Move to Guinaldo — Lord Wellington as a general — A slight digression on the horrors of war — Instances of cruelty by both the French and the inhabitants — The English not wholly blameless — Private depredations of Lawrence and his comrades — Siege of Ciudad Rodrigo — Capture of a troublesome convent — A successful assault made — Scenes in the town afterwards — Incidents during the cantonments — Putting it out of sight proves not to be the best way of keeping grog — Being too sparing to one's beast not always advantageous.

For the remaining part of the year 1811 both armies were inactive. The batteries had been at work at Badajoz and breaches had been made, but these had proved impracticable, twelve forlorn hopes and storming parties having advanced into them with no better result than that many met their deaths and the remainder had to withdraw owing to obstacles. The siege was therefore converted into a blockade, and Lord Wellington, who after taking Almeida and driving the French out of Portugal, had come southward with two divisions to reinforce Beresford's army, moved the general South Army into cantonments and encampments near the River Caza, a tributary of the Guadiana. There we remained till July, when we were marched northward again across the Tagus, and took up our position at Guinaldo. While there no particular engagement ensued; the enemy indeed falling on another part of our line, but no success being obtained on either side.

Although Lord Wellington had now driven the French clean out of Portugal, he had still other work to do; work that praised him more than he had been before, work that raised him to higher honours than he yet possessed, but likewise work that sacrificed more thousands of human beings than had been through the whole three years. There can be no doubt that if he had had as many troops as the French, he would long before this have driven them out of Portugal and perhaps Spain as well; he seemed to understand their every movement, and was thus always ready waiting to receive them; and they on their part seemed to think they had more than found their match in him, and had become very cautious in contending with him. But he actually had only half their number, or even less, that he could depend on, and these were sometimes not fit for service from want or other privations, as these tales of the hospitals or rather deadly convents go to prove, where so many of my comrades passed the end of their lives, and their remains were carried out with no more ceremony than I described as at Elvas.

The Portuguese themselves were mostly exempt from the actual slaughter, but their country had already been left by the enemy in about as bad a state as it could; for if it had been infested with swarms of locusts, the devastation could not have been paralleled. The war could not have left one family quite untouched by its destructiveness or by misery and grief irrecoverable for many years; and indeed, in some cases, for ever, for many a child was deprived of its father or mother, or even of both parents, and many were the parents who had lost their children; and if any had accumulated a little fortune then it must have been lost, being ever liable to be plundered by the soldiery.

It must be said, however, that certainly the Spaniards and likewise the Portuguese behaved on their part very cruelly to the enemy's wounded, prisoners, or stragglers. I myself was witness to one of their barbarous acts. They had laid a ring of straw round a wounded Frenchman and set fire to it, and when the poor man tried to crawl out, he was only received with a pitchfork which sent him again into the centre. We soon made the Portuguese fly by firing in amongst them; but when we came up to the poor man, his hair, fingers, and face were fearfully burnt already. He implored us not to leave him, but we were obliged to, and no doubt either the Portuguese returned and killed him, or else he died of the injuries he had sustained at their hands, or from the wounds that had before disabled him.

These barbarities, however, the enemy brought on themselves by dealing out the same coin, for they would go on foraging parties, and perhaps find a whole family or more together trying to protect their very subsistences, when they would kill the males, serve the females not much better, and carry off everything they could lay their hands on if of any value. Sometimes, however, they were overpowered in these freaks, and then they suffered just as bad a fate as I showed just now; which, after all, is not much to be wondered at.

I am sorry to say, however, that we ourselves were not quite free from the charge of depredations, though we did not carry them on to the extent of bloodshed. An instance of this in which I was myself mixed up happened during our stay at this very place Guinaldo.

We were quartered nearly twenty in number in two upper rooms of a house, of which the family inhabited the lower part. Our beds, as usual, consisted chiefly of straw. An Irish comrade of ours, by name Harding, whom we named Pig Harding, owing to his always being on