Under Wellington's Command: A Tale of the Peninsular War by G. A. Henty (book series for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

she took the bundle from Garcia's hand and sped away down the street.

"Now, senor, follow me," he said, and turned to go in the other direction.

"You had best call me Juan, and begin at once," Terence said. "If by accident you were to say senor, in the hearing of anyone, there would be trouble at once."

"I shall be careful, never fear," the man said. "However, there would only be harm done if there happened to be a Frenchman--or one of their Spaniards, who are worse--present. As to my own comrades, it would not matter at all. We muleteers are all heart and soul against the French, and will do anything to injure them. We are all obliged to work for them; for all trade is at an end, and we must live. Many have joined the partisans, but those who have good mules cannot go away and give up their only means of earning a living; for although the French pay for carriage by mules or carts, if they come upon animals that are not being used, they take them without a single scruple.

"Besides, there are not many partisans in this part of Spain. The French have been too long in the valley here, and are too strong in the Castiles for their operations. It is different in Navarre, Aragon, and Catalonia; and in Valencia and Mercia. There the French have never had a firm footing, and most of the strong places are still in Spanish hands. In all the mountainous parts, in fact, there are guerillas; but here it is too dangerous. There are bands all over the country, but these are really but robbers, and no honest man would join them.

"This is the house."

He turned in at a small doorway and unlocked the door, closing it after them.

"Put your hand on my shoulder, Juan," he said. "I have a light upstairs."

He led the way in darkness up a stone staircase, then unlocked another door and entered a small room, where a candle was burning.

"This is my home, when I am here," he said. "Most of us sleep at the stables where our mules are put up; but I like having a place to myself, and my mate looks after the mules."

Nothing could have been simpler than the furniture of the room. It consisted of a low pallet, a small table, and a single chair. In a corner were a pair of saddlebags and two or three coloured blankets. A thick coat, lined with sheepskin, hung against the wall. In a corner was a brightly-coloured picture of a saint, with two sconces for candles by the side of it. The muleteer had crossed himself and bowed to it as he came in, and Terence doubted not that it was the picture of a saint who was supposed to take a special interest in muleteers.

From a small cupboard, the man brought out a flask of wine and two drinking cups.

"It is good," he said, as he placed them on the table. "I go down to Xeres sometimes, and always bring up a half octave of something special for my friends, here."

After pouring out the two cups, he handed the chair politely to Terence, and sat himself down on the edge of the pallet. Then, taking out a tobacco bag and a roll of paper, he made a cigarette and handed it to Terence, and then rolled one for himself.

Chapter 13: From Salamanca To Cadiz.

"Now, let us talk about our journey," the muleteer said, when he had taken two or three whiffs at his cigarette. "Nita tells me that you wish, if possible, to join your army near Badajoz. That suits me well, for I have orders from a merchant here to fetch him twelve mule loads of sherry from Xeres; and Badajoz is, therefore, on my way. The merchant has a permit, signed by Marmont, for me to pass unmolested by any French troops; saying that the wine is intended for his use, and that of his staff. If it were not for that, there would be small chance, indeed, of his ever getting it. There is so little trade, now, that it is scarce possible to buy a flask of the white wine of the south, here. Of course, the pass will be equally useful going down to fetch it for, without it, my mules would be certain to be impressed for service, by the French.

"So you see, nothing could have happened more fortunately for, anywhere between the Tagus and Badajoz, we can turn off from Estremadura into Portugal. It would not be safe to try near Badajoz, for Soult's army is scattered all over there and, though the pass would be doubtless respected by superior officers, if we fell in with foraging parties they would have no hesitation in shooting me, tearing up the pass, and carrying off my mules. For your sake as well as my own, therefore, I would turn off and cross the mountains--say, to Portalegre--and go down to Elvas. There you would be with your friends; and I could cross again, further south, and make my way down to Xeres."

"They say that two of Marmont's divisions started south, yesterday."

"That is unfortunate, for they will leave little behind them in the way of food and drink; and we shall find it better to travel by by-roads. I should not mind being impressed, if it were only for the march down to Badajoz; but once with an army, there is no saying how long one may be kept."

"If we find any difficulty in crossing into Portugal this side of Badajoz, I shall not mind going down to Cadiz. I should have no difficulty, there, in getting a ship to Lisbon."

"Well, we shall see," the muleteer said. "We will go the short way, if we can. I hate the Portuguese, and they are no fonder of us; but with you with me, of course, I should not be afraid of interference from them."

"But the Portuguese are fighting on our side, and aiding us to help you."

"Yes, because they think it is better that the war should be carried on here than in their own country. Besides, from what I hear, it is with no goodwill that they fight under your British general; but only because he tells them that, unless they furnish so many troops, he will have nothing more to do with them, but will sail away with his army to England."

"That may be true, Garcia; but you know that when we were here--for I was with the British army that marched through Salamanca--the Spanish authorities were no more willing to assist than were the Portuguese; and not a single soldier--with the exception of two or three thousand half-armed men under Romana--joined, from the day we crossed the frontier to that on which we embarked to Corunna."

"The authorities are all bad," Garcia said scornfully. "They only think of feathering their own nests, and of quarrelling among themselves. The people are patriots, but what can they do when the Juntas keep the arms the English have sent us in their magazines, and divide the money among themselves? Then our generals know nothing of their business, and have their own ambitions and rivalries. We are all ready to fight; and when the drum is beaten and we are called out, we go willingly enough. But what do we do when we go out? We are marched backwards and forwards without motive; the officers are no good; and when at last we do see the French we are always beaten, and the generals and the officers are the first to run away.

"We ought in the first place to rise, not against the French, but against the Juntas, and the councillors, and the hidalgos. Then, when we have done with them, we ought to choose officers from among ourselves, men that have done good service as leaders of partisans. Then we could meet the French. We are brave enough, when we are well led. See how the people fought at Saragossa, and since then at Gerona, and many other places. We are not afraid of being killed, but we have no confidence in our chiefs."

"I have no doubt that is so, Garcia; and that, if the regiments were trained by British officers, as some of the Portuguese now are, you would fight well. Unfortunately, as you say, your generals and officers are chosen, not for their merits, but from their influence with the Juntas, whose object is to have the army filled with men who will be subservient to their orders.

"Then there is another thing against you: that is, the jealousy of the various provinces. There is no common effort. When Valencia is invaded, for example, the Valencians fight; but they have no idea of going out from their homes to assist Castile or Catalonia and so, one after another, the provinces are conquered by the French."

"That is so," Garcia said thoughtfully. "If they were to rise here I would fight, and take my chance of being killed; but I should not care to risk my life in defence of Valencia, with which I have nothing whatever to do. I don't see how you are to get over that, so long as we are divided into provinces."

"Nor do I, Garcia. In times of peace these various governments may work well enough; but nothing could be worse than the system, when a country is invaded.

"What time do you start, tomorrow?"

"As soon as the gates are open. That will be at five o'clock. It is eleven now, so we had better get some sleep. In the morning I must see that your dress is all right. Nita has given me a bottle of walnut juice, to stain your face and hands.

"Do you lie down on the bed, senor. I will wrap myself up in this cloak. I am more accustomed to sleep on that than on the bed."

Terence removed his outer garments and, in a few minutes, was sound asleep. At four o'clock Garcia roused him. The morning was breaking and, with the assistance of the muleteer, he made his toilet and stained his face, neck, and hands, and darkened his hair. Then they each ate a piece of bread with a bunch of grapes, took a drink of red wine, and then sallied out; Garcia carrying his sheepskin cloak, and Terence the three coloured blankets. A quarter of a mile farther, they came to an inn frequented by muleteers.

"I have told my mate about you," Garcia said, "so you need not be afraid of him; nor indeed of any of us. There is not a muleteer who would not do what he could to aid the escape of a British officer."

Most of the mules were already saddled, and Garcia went up with Terence to a man who was buckling a strap.

"Sanchez," he said, "this is our new comrade, Juan, who I told you would accompany us this journey."

The man nodded.

"It will be all the better," he said. "Twelve mules are rather too much for two men to manage, when we get among the mountains."

Garcia and Terence at once set to work to assist, and in ten minutes the cavalcade started. Garcia rode the leading mule, three others being tied in single file behind it. Terence came next, and Sanchez brought up the rear. The animals were fine ones, and Garcia was evidently proud of them; showing their good points to Terence, and telling him their names. The mules were all very fond of their master, turning their heads at once when addressed by name; and flapping their long ears in enjoyment, as he rubbed their heads or patted their necks.

The town was already astir and, as they reached the gates, country carts were pouring in, laden with fruits and vegetables for the market. Garcia stopped for a moment, as an old man came along with a cart.

"How are you, father?"

"How are you, Garcia? Off again?"

"Yes; I am going to Xeres for wine, for the French general."

"I see that you have got a new comrade."

"Yes; the journey is a long one, and I thought that it was as well to have another mate."

"Yes, it is dangerous travelling," the old man said. "Well, goodbye, and good fortune to you!"

Garcia put his mules in motion again, and they passed through the gate and soon left Salamanca behind. There was little conversation on the way. The two Spaniards made and smoked cigarettes continually; and Terence endeavoured to imitate them, by addressing the endearing words they used to their animals, having learned the names of the four of which he was in charge. At first they did not respond to this strange voice but, as they became accustomed to it, each answered, when its name was called, by quickening its pace and by a sharp whisk of the tail, that showed it understood that it was addressed.

Terence knew that his escape would not be discovered until