With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

"Hold!" cried Tom loudly, anxious to save unnecessary bloodshed. "You men keep your formation. Now," he went on sternly, addressing the Portuguese in their own tongue, "I give you a moment in which to lay down your arms, promising on the word of an Englishman that you shall not be injured. Answer."

With a sullen clang the peasants tossed their arms to the pavement, and stood glowering at the troopers, fearful yet whether they would be murdered.

"Form into line, two abreast," commanded Tom again. "Howeley, just get to your post and tell us if the enemy are near. I'm going to eject these fellows."

He waited till there came a hail from the rifleman.

"All clear, sir," he shouted. "Them fellers has had a stomachful and has cleared."

"Then get below and make ready to open one of the gates. My lads," he said, addressing the troopers, who regarded their prisoners with no very friendly looks, "these men have thrown down their arms on my promise that they shall go unharmed. You will march beside them to the gate and stand about in case of a rally. Pick up your wounded and killed," he called to the peasants. "You will march straight across to the gate, and will pass out without attempting violence. Any man who disobeys will be killed instantly. Let this be a lesson to you. Go to your comrades and tell them that we are well able to defend ourselves, and that it would be better far for them and all if they left us alone. Now, march."

Looking forlorn and frightened, and regarding the troopers with eyes which showed even now, though rather cowed, their hatred of them, the peasants picked up their comrades, of whom a number had fallen, and bore them to the gate. Two minutes later they were gone, wending their way from the defences sadly, and in different spirit from that which had filled them a little while before. Crash went the gate. Howeley threw the bar into position and turned the key.

"Well done!" came from the window above in loud tones. "Well done all of you!"

Glancing up, Tom saw the jovial naval lieutenant waving eagerly to him, while close at hand was Jack's grinning and perspiring face. He was actually shaking a fist at our hero.

"Lucky brute!" he growled in a voice so quaint, and with such queer grimaces, that even the French troopers could see the humour.

"Lucky brute to be able to hop about and take part in all these skirmishes. Wouldn't I give something to be in your shoes."

"And right well ye'd do, sir, begging pardon," came from Andrews, whom the contest had worked up to a degree of excitement. "But it's well for us all that Mr. Clifford's here, begging pardon, sir."

"Well said," shouted Mr. Riley. "Ah, I wish to goodness I could talk French! I'd make a speech in Tom's favour. I'd call for cheers."

"Then here's three cheers fer Mr. Tom," came from Andrews in bellowing tones, cheers in which the troopers joined lustily, for they fully understood the gist of what was passing.

"And now?" asked Mr. Riley, wiping the perspiration from his face. "Now, Tom, after that precious near squeak?"

"Any damage done?" asked our hero at once. He ran his eyes over the troopers, and soon discovered that four had been wounded, though, fortunately, none of the wounds were severe.

"Then pitch those ladders up against the wall again and look about for a strong plank. We'll make a bit of a platform above, where we can post a few men. They'll be able to keep others of the peasants from trying the same game. How are things passing at the church door?"

An inspection there proved that the enemy had retreated, though doubtless some of them were within the church. However, for the moment at least, the bulk of the mob had gone, and Tom took advantage of the lull to make his preparations for feeding the defenders. The kitchen fire was soon roaring up the chimney, while outside, in the yard, there was another blaze. A trooper, booted and spurred, and stripped to his shirt, bent over a huge basin perched on a low wooden table, and sturdily pummelled a mass of dough. Near at hand stood another, stripped like his fellow, thrusting his long moustaches upward toward his eyes.

"Nom de nomme, but this is soldiering!" he was saying to his comrade, as he added handfuls of flour from an open sack. "This is what a man can call campaigning."

"Eh? Ah!" the other grunted. "Mais pourquoi?"

"Hear him!" came the astonished answer, while the trooper held a floury hand aloft as if to show his amazement. "He asks why, when the reason is plain. Dites donc, mon fou; is it so often, then, that we fight under the eye and command of an English garçon? Poof! That is the charm of the thing. I tell you, yesterday I said to myself: 'Pierre, you will be chopped to pieces before the sun comes up to-morrow. You and your comrades will be but mince meat.'"

The man kneading the dough shivered and grunted his disapproval. "Gently, comrade," he growled. "You will spoil the tart I am making. What then?"

"What then? He asks what then? See here, mon brave, we have fighting, heaps of it, and it is the peasants – poor fools! – who are chopped to pieces. We have excitement and work fit for a soldier, I say, and, with it all, see also what we get. Ah! I smell meat cooking, and here is something that we have not seen for many a long day."

He went clanking his spurs across to a corner where the watchful Howeley had deposited a huge jar of jam, and came staggering back with it. The two men took the pan from the low table, lifted the dough from it, and, having thickly dusted the table top with flour, laid their dough upon it. Then came the task of rolling.

"Try that, mate," suggested Howeley, who was now watching the proceedings with a grin of expectation. "Wasn't meant for the job; but beggars can't be choosers."

He offered the barrel of an old firelock, the butt and lock of which had gone, and the trooper took it with a flourish. Dusting it well, like the table, he rolled the dough with the hand of an expert, and, having satisfied himself that his work was nearly finished, he pinched a corner from the dough and handed it to the rifleman.

"Try," he grunted.

"Real fine!" answered the Cockney. "I'm waiting for this here pie to get finished."

"Then the jam, Pierre."

The second trooper let it fall from the jar into the species of basin which his comrade had now contrived within a shallow pan, and watched as the latter smoothed it down with a wooden ladle. On went the covering of dough, while the cook with skilled eye and hand marked the edges of the pie, dividing it into as many sections as there were defenders.

"Now," he cried, "to the kitchen with it. If we are to be cut to fragments this evening, at noon we will at least dine like gentlemen. Take it, Pierre, and see that you do not get it burned. Then indeed would your punishment be terrible."

Such rejoicing as there was over that meal! Divided into three separate messes, the defenders ate slices of frizzled ham in the recesses of the room above the doorway of the church. Others again washed down the food with liberal allowances of the wine of the country, looking about them through the door opening above the gateway of the yard, while Jack and Mr. Riley held a reception in the corridor from which windows opened into the yard, and there discussed the good things sent them with many a jest and laugh. Yes, the spirits of the defenders were wonderfully buoyant. And why not?

"Why be miserable while we're alive?" asked Jack, cramming a piece of that wonderful tart into his mouth; for, even if he were wounded, Jack could still show a remarkably undiminished appetite.

"First there's ham, and then there's jam," he sang, till another mouthful kept him silent.

"Indeed, why not be jolly?" chimed in Mr. Riley. "Here we are all tight and weatherproof, as you might say. What's there to grumble at? But, seriously, how on earth is this matter to end? Those peasants have drawn off for the moment; but will they retire from the contest for good? Eh? Now, sir, what's the answer?"

Tom flushed at being addressed in such a manner, and munched steadily at his food. But his deep-set eyes wore a far-away look which showed that he was thinking.

"Eh?" asked Jack, prodding him with the prong of a broken fork discovered in the kitchen. "Do we draw off as victors, receiving well-deserved promotion for this – er – this – shall we say, gallant action? or shall we, in fact – ?"

"Be paid the compliment of appearing in the Gazette as 'missing'? My word, that would be hard luck after such a business! Now, Tom?"

"More pie," said the latter deliberately. "Whilst we live we'll eat. But who can say what'll happen? We've given those poor fellows a regular drubbing; but I don't believe they've done with us. I don't like this drawing off, and the silence we now have; it means mischief. I'd give a heap to know what they are up to."

Once the meal was finished, and the horses' wants seen to, the defenders of the place occupied themselves in a hundred different ways. Some cleaned their carbines and burnished their scabbards; others indulged in the luxury of a wash at the pump in the yard; while Tom, on whom the responsibility of everything depended, walked slowly from one end to the other of the defences.

"I'd give a heap to be able to guess rightly what the enemy are up to," he said, for perhaps the tenth time, to Andrews, who seemed to haunt his side. "One sees little or nothing of them."

"Next to nothing, sir," agreed the rifleman, with knitted brows. "But they ain't up to no good, I'm sure of it. You can see 'em come from the village at times and stare over here at us. Then they'll disappear again, while boys and young men scuttle about, and carry armfuls of something that I ain't sure of at this distance. There's been knocking, too, in the church."

"Hum!" Tom pondered over the information. He listened acutely, for he was just at the edge of the platform above the church door. But from that position, indeed from any position held by the defenders, it was impossible to look into the place. Yes, there was knocking, coming from the interior of the church, and —

"I heard a heavy fall, as if stones had been dislodged!" he exclaimed. "Come down below with me, Andrews."

They ran to the stairs, and scuttled down at their fastest pace. Making their way along the corridor they were soon at the kitchen, and then entered a storeroom beyond. It had been ransacked by Howeley and his helpers, and had provided an ample supply of good things. But it was not the contents of the room that interested Tom; it was the wall, the party wall, on the far side of which was the church.

"Listen," he said. "There!"

A glance at the rifleman's face was sufficient to show that he, too, had gathered the full meaning of those blows.

"Can't get at us by fair means, as you might say, sir," he grunted, "so they're agoing to break through the wall. It'll be a teaser to hold 'em if they once get through."

"Couldn't be done," agreed Tom. "There's not room enough here for more than four men. We should be driven back into the yard, and, of course, an attack would be made in other quarters. It is a teaser!"

His face was drawn and stern as he retraced his footsteps, and stopped to discuss the situation with Mr. Riley.

"Of course we could pile all the bales and boxes we could find against this side of the wall," he said. "But that would not help us; the peasants would pull them into the church. There's no way of blocking up the passage either, and the difficulty of the situation seems to be this: we have now another place to defend, and no men to spare for the work. I think we shall have to try a sortie."

"Or retire up here and hold on to the last," said the naval lieutenant, his face serious. "But they'd smoke us out, or burn the whole place over our heads. I know well the temper of such men as these. Harmless enough as a general rule, but demons now that they are roused. They've suffered frightfully at the hands of the French, and they have made up their minds to retaliate in the best way they can. Well?"

"I'll see," answered Tom shortly. Turning on his heel, he went off with Andrews, and clattered down the stairs to the yard. Yes, there was nothing for it but to defend the upper story of the house, or —

"Or make for the church again," suggested Andrews, for our hero had spoken his thoughts aloud. "You could clear out those fellows who are working there in a twinkling, carry all the grub and wine in – and there you are, as good as ever you were, and better."

"But with a wall still," said Tom dryly. "They could come in here then, and knock the wall down just the same. We should have them pouring in through the church door and through this other opening. Still, there's a lot in the suggestion. Tell me, can you see anyone elsewhere than in and around the village?"

They had mounted to the top of the house, and could obtain a clear view. Both stared out in all directions, and kept silent for a few minutes.

"Heaps at the village, sir," reported Andrews after a while. "A few here and there, watching the surroundings. No big body of them anywheres as I can see."

"Nor I; let's get below."

As if bent on a purpose, Tom led the way to the yard, and then dived into the stable. There were the two nags they had seen when first they established themselves in the place, contentedly munching at the hay with which a thoughtful trooper had provided them. Tom pulled a door open and entered the cart shed.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "Two of them – light carts too. Call Howeley and his men."

The riflemen came plunging down at once, and stood at attention.

"Get the carts out and the horses harnessed in," Tom ordered. "When that's done, load one of the carts with food. We shan't want water or wine, though you can take a small cask of the latter. Don't overload. Now you, my friend," he went on, addressing one of the troopers, "hurry to the rooms above, and bring down a mattress and some blankets. Quick with it!"

"You're going to – beg pardon, sir," began Andrews, using his accustomed formula. "You ain't going to take French leave of them beauties! Never!"

His smile told of his delight, and of his agreement with the order.

"Take my compliments to Mr. Riley and your own officer, and help them both to descend," said Tom. "When they are safely in the cart on the mattress I have ordered, and armed, Andrews – "

"Yes, sir."

"And armed with carbines, you get to the top of the building and look about you carefully. If all's clear, let me know. Then slip down to join us. Now, I'll collect the other men."

Very silently and swiftly did the troopers obey his orders. At an earlier date they might very well have demurred and hesitated, delaying, perhaps, to discuss the matter; for why should they give obedience to one who was, nominally at least, their prisoner? But Tom had won their confidence, and that is a great thing where troops are concerned. They merely looked their surprise when ordered to repair to the yard and mount their horses, while the man posted over the church door bared his sabre, as if determined that no fault of his should allow a slinking peasant to mount secretly and discover the movement of the garrison.

"Wait till I call you," whispered Tom. "Then run down to the yard and mount your horse. You understand?"

The fellow grinned at him, a grin of interest and friendship.

"Parbleu! An enemy, he!" he grunted, spitting into the palm that gripped his sabre. "By all the fiends, but I, Jacques, would welcome the English as brothers."

The clatter of hoofs told of moving horses, or preparations down below. Not that it was likely to disturb the enemy, for the horses moved often enough, particularly when being watered. Men slipped silently from their defensive posts and crept into the yard, while a couple of brawny troopers bore the injured Jack to the cart, smiling serenely at his angry protestations.

"Treat me as if I were a child," he growled, as Tom came into hearing. "Who said I couldn't walk?"

"I'll leave you behind if you're a trouble," came the answer. "Fiddlesticks, Jack!"

"Or cut his diet down," laughed Mr. Riley, who already lay on the mattress placed on the cart. "That's it, my lad; cut his grub short. That'll make our Jack less fiery. What's up?"

"Going for an airing," came the answer. "Now, men," said our hero, addressing the troopers, who were mounted by now. "You'll fall in on either side of the carts, which will be driven by two selected by yourselves. Spare horses will be led by others. If I have it reported that the coast is clear, we will throw the gates open and ride out. A sharp trot once we reach the road will take us away from the village. After that – "

"After that, monsieur?" asked one of the men eagerly.

"We will see. You are prisoners at this moment just as much as we are. If we get through, perhaps we'll call it quits. You'll ride for the army of France, and we for our comrades."

That brought a grin of pleasure to the bronzed faces of the men. They would have cheered had not the need for silence been there. Instead, they picked up their reins, and fell in on either side of the carts, waiting for the signal to open the gates. Tom went back to the sentry he had posted over the church doorway.

"All clear," was the report. "There is still knocking."

"Then get to your horse and mount. I am following."

Tom clambered once more into the yard, and looked up at the window which Andrews occupied.

"All clear," came the gentle hail.

"Then fall in – time we were moving."

All were mounted within a minute, save Howeley, who stood at the gates. "Open," called Tom.

"Open it is, sir," said the rifleman, throwing the gates wide at once.

"Forward!"

Steadily, and without sign of undue haste, the cavalcade rode from the yard into the open, leaving a place which, though it had revictualled them and offered excellent cover, might, were they to hold it longer, lead to disaster. They moved away into the open in regular order, the carts in their midst bearing their wounded and their supplies with them as became good soldiers.

"Trot!" commanded Tom, and at the word the troop set their horses into faster motion, Andrews at their head leading them off obliquely towards a point where the road was accessible.

"Hear 'em!" ejaculated Jack, by no means dismayed, as a torrent of yells and cries came from the village and from a number of points about them. "They don't seem overpleased at our leaving."

CHAPTER X

The Great General

Marching from the building which had given them shelter, Tom and his companions struck directly for the road that led away from the hills, Andrews, in advance, standing in his stirrups so as to obtain a better view of his surroundings. Jack watched operations from the mattress placed in the cart, on which he had been placed, a most unwilling prisoner, while the jovial naval lieutenant sat up, his back propped against the side of the cart, and surveyed matters generally from the standpoint of a man who is well satisfied with all that is happening.

"Couldn't be better, couldn't," he observed to the disconsolate Jack; "and hark ye, me lad, for all your grousing I know that you feel the same. Tom's done magnificently; few would have done as well."

It was just what might have been expected of the amiable, if hot-tempered, Jack that he should acquiesce warmly.

"Grandly," he agreed. "Of course one wonders what one would have done oneself under the circumstances, and it's wretchedly unlucky being winged, and having to look on like a child."

"Better than being chopped to pieces at any rate," came the swift answer. "Besides, we're not out of the wood yet. We've to get away from these mountains, and there's still that narrow valley through which we galloped on our way to the place where the real attack was made. I shall be surprised if we get through without meeting with more of the peasants."

There was always that hazard, and as Tom looked about him, riding at the tail of the procession, he was bound to admit that matters still looked gloomy.

"There's no way out of the place but by the road," he said to Howeley, who rode beside him. "Of course we could abandon the horses and take to the hills, but then – "

"Wounded and stores, sir," came the respectful interruption. "Couldn't be done, sir."

"Out of the question, I agree – so on we have to go. To turn the other way would take us back to the village, and then there wouldn't be any reaching the church or other fort as we have done. No, on we have to go. Those peasants are following, and I see scattered groups about us."

The wretched Portuguese who had attacked the troop of horse had indeed taken many precautions to prevent their prey escaping them. Not that the idea had occurred to them that Tom and his men would have the audacity to leave a place that provided a fairly safe haven, and which in any case gave such shelter that more than once attack on the part of the peasants had failed. But, for fear of one of the troopers venturing to ride away for help, they had posted bands of their comrades round about the church, placing a number on the road, and causing others to march to that narrow part that shut in the wider portion of the valley, and through which fugitives must pass. For half an hour Andrews led the cavalcade forward at a smart pace. He turned on reaching the road, and then pushed along it, the troopers clattering behind him, and riding on either side of the carts. Suddenly his hand went up, bringing the procession to a halt, while Tom galloped up to join him.

"A hundred of the enemy in front, sir," the rifleman reported. "They seem to be blocking the road with a cart, and are stationed behind it."

"While men are racing after us from the village," observed our hero. "Looks ugly, Andrews."

"A hole, sir; but we've been in one as deep and deeper."

"True," agreed Tom; "and we'll climb out of this. Let me have a look at them for a while. We'll move along again at a trot till just out of musket shot. By then I'll have made up my mind how to treat them."

He rode on beside the rifleman, his eyes fixed upon the enemy in front. Shouts came from the latter, while a number could be seen standing behind a cart which had been upset across the narrow road. At this precise point, in fact, the rugged hills on either side, hills for which Portugal is notorious, converged abruptly, forming as it were a doorway to that end of the valley. The rocky walls ran along within thirty feet of one another for perhaps a hundred yards, and then suddenly broke away again, making the entrance to another valley. Not that one could see the latter, for there was a sharp bend in the cleft between the hills. But Tom remembered the surroundings.

"Ugly place," he told Andrews. "Looks as if the two hills were joined at one time, and then were broken apart. Once through, we have a wide valley to cross, and then another place such as this, but shorter and wider. So if we manage this job we'll do the other. Now for skirmishers."

He swung round on the troop, and with a sign drew all the men toward him. Then selecting eight men, whom he had noticed to be more active than their fellows, he spoke quickly to them, so that they and their comrades could hear.

"Listen, friends," he said. "Behind us the villagers are coming up as fast as their legs can carry them. In front there is this obstruction. Do as I order, and you will see that we shall quickly clear the peasants out. You eight men will divide, and four will go to either side. We are hardly within musket shot yet, so that I shall approach closer. When I signal, hand your reins to your comrades, take your carbines, and make off on to the hill. Clamber up and along till you outflank those fellows opposite; then shoot them down. We will do the same from the front. Understand?"

"Oui, monsieur," came in a chorus.

"Then on we go."

Tom led them forward at a foot pace, till bullets began to strike the road at his feet, and the distance was so short between the combatants that he could see the enemy easily. He came to a sudden halt and waved his hand. Then, without waiting to watch the troopers told off for special duty, he called to the man driving the store cart to come forward.

"Dismount," he ordered abruptly. "Now turn the cart and horse round. Good! Back the cart steadily towards the enemy. My lads, half a dozen of you will ride after the cart, shooting from behind its shelter. Better still, let three dismount. There will still be enough men left to lead the horses, or you can hitch the reins to the second cart. Yes, that will be better. Let the whole six dismount; then, with the cart to shelter you, you will be able to do something with these people."