With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

"But," he began, "there'll – "

"Be time for fun – perhaps," agreed Tom. "But business first. I shall ride direct for the house of Juan de Esteros and Septimus John Clifford & Son."

"Of Oporto."

"And of London – wine merchants. Don Juan's my uncle; I'm looking forward to the meeting. Wonder if he'll have news of the folks at home?"

Men stepped aside to look at the two young officers, lifting their caps; city people raised a cheer more than once as they recognized the uniform of a staff officer; while often enough a handkerchief fluttered from some window as Tom and Jack walked their horses through the city. There was abundant evidence, in fact, of the popularity of the British; and had our heroes cared for entertainment, and possessed the time, they could have spent a year passing from one hospitable house to another. Everyone was glad to see them. Everyone! – no. There was one exception, though he passed unnoticed amongst the crowds. A face peeped out from the window of a hovel that was squeezed in at the corner of a square which Tom and Jack were just entering, while the limbs of the owner of that face writhed and twisted incessantly. A thin, weak hand played with the corner of a weak mouth, while a scowl of hatred lined a narrow forehead. The young man – for he was but little older than Tom – stretched out a little farther, so as to obtain a better view of the officers riding before him, and then ducked back out of sight.

"Tom Clifford!" he hissed. "He in Oporto! Safe from the sea, and an officer! Ah!"

The scowl deepened, for the moment was a bitter one for José. Yes, it was José de Esteros, whom we saw last in London, the scheming vindictive nephew to whom John Clifford had given a home for many a year, and who had rewarded his uncle after such a manner. It was the sneaking youth who had procured Tom's impressment, and who had schemed and schemed so that, one of these days, he might become the head of the firm of Septimus John Clifford & Son. It was, in fact, the ruffian who hoped to break through that old tradition of the firm owned by his uncle, and deprive it of the son who, following unbroken custom, should succeed.

"Tom Clifford!" he gasped again. "An officer too! How? And in Oporto! Why?"

A guilty conscience supplied the answer promptly. It was for his arrest that Tom had come without a doubt, and here again was added injury. Let us realize the position of affairs exactly. Far from being sorry for the rascally action he had undertaken, José vented the whole of his own displeasure on Tom's unconscious head. He had always been jealous of our hero. He hated him now because of the failure of the wicked scheme which should have ruined him, and hated him still more because retribution and discovery had come so soon. Indeed, Tom had scarcely reached the ship after his impressment when Huggins, John Clifford's faithful clerk, had unravelled the conspiracy, and had compelled the ruffian who had captured him to admit the fact. And José had had a near escape of being sent to prison; for with the unravelling of the conspiracy came the knowledge that he had robbed his uncle. But this wretched youth was as crafty as he was sneaking. Swift to detect discovery, he had once more robbed his uncle and had departed. A ship sailing that very evening for Oporto took him aboard, and within a week José de Esteros had presented himself at his uncle's, at Don Juan de Estero's house, where the Portuguese branch of the famous firm of Septimus John Clifford & Son was established. And there he had remained for two months, giving it out that his cousin had run away from home, and that he, José, had been sent to take his place. Cleverly intercepting the frantic letters which John Clifford wrote, José kept up the deception till, one fine morning, the faithful Huggins landed and appeared at the office. Then José ran again and hid himself in the hovels of the city. It was in one of these that he was located on the morning of Tom's entry, engaged, one may be sure, in further rascally schemes which the unexpected arrival of his cousin at once gave zest to.

"Tom Clifford here!" he again ejaculated, crouching behind the window. "Then here's a chance to go on with the matter. Because I failed once, it won't be for always; I've a splendid game before me."

The shaking fingers went to his thin lips again, while his limbs writhed and seemed to knot themselves together.

"I'll kill him!" José hissed, as Tom began to pass out of his vision. "Yes, and I'll make use of the information which Don Juan gave me. Ha, ha! It makes me smile. He took me into his confidence. Told me of his riches, of the wealth his son would have. He's my cousin too, like Tom. Why shouldn't I have their share from both sides of the family?"

The pale features of this half-Spaniard wrinkled into a smile that was more sardonic than anything. The thin, writhing fingers played about the corners of his mouth, while the pair of bright and somewhat protruding eyes which a second before had been fixed upon the stalwart form of Andrews, then the only one of the three horsemen remaining visible, lost themselves in a vacant gaze. In those few following seconds José saw himself powerful and rich, head of a prosperous old firm, a partner of the business in the place of his cousin Tom, successor to his Uncle Juan's riches.

Let us turn from the contemplation of a youth so devoid of all that was pleasant and taking – José was born with a kink, a moral kink, if you will – let us leave him with it and follow Tom and his comrade. But in doing so let us remember that though José might be weak, he was yet a force to be reckoned with, a force, had Tom but known it, likely enough to come between him and those much-cherished ambitions. José might easily intervene between the gallant and handsome staff officer whom he called cousin and that post in the army to which youthful good spirits and assurance caused him to aspire.

"The way to the house of Septimus John Clifford & Son, señor," answered a man of whom Tom made an enquiry. "There are few in this city who do not know the name and the house. Pass directly on till you enter another square, then turn to the left, descending toward the water. The house is on the right, some little distance down."

There it was at last. Jack pulled in his horse at the sight, while his estimation of our hero went up a little. For to the high and mighty Jack trade was trade, something at which he was rather wont to turn up his nose. It was purely ignorance of the world that made him do so; for to do him but justice the young ensign was no snob. And here he found himself in front of an enormous range of buildings, with warehouses and stores running right down to the water. Over the main building flew the flag of England, with that of Portugal close beside it, while a board of modest proportions announced the fact that this was the home of Septimus John Clifford & Son.

Tom slid from his saddle, handed his reins over to Andrews, and went striding up the steps of the building, his sword and sabretache swaying at his side. A very gallant figure he cut too as he entered the office and enquired for Don Juan de Esteros.

"What name?" he was asked.

"Say a British officer," he responded, and presently was ushered into a handsomely furnished office. A little man, bearing traces of obvious ill health, rose from a chair, and at once advanced with hand cordially outstretched.

"This is an honour," he said in broken English, mingled with a word of Portuguese. "To what do I owe the visit? What can I do for you, sir? But surely – "

As he gripped Tom's hand he peered through his spectacles into his face, while a flush suddenly suffused his own olive complexion.

"I am your nephew," said our hero abruptly, speaking Spanish and smiling at his uncle. "Very much at your service."

A shout escaped Don Juan. He went to a door leading from the back of the room and called loudly. A minute later a familiar figure burst into the room and rushed at Tom. It was Septimus John Clifford himself, fatter than ever perhaps, rosy-faced, but active. The meeting between father and son can be imagined. They gripped hands and stood staring at one another for perhaps five seconds.

"Well!" at last John gasped, standing away from his son. "A handsome figure you cut, Tom. A soldier, eh?"

"On General Lord Wellington's staff, sir."

"And mighty well you'll do, sir," came the answer. "Mighty proud I am of you. I've heard the tale. It's barely thirty hours since I set foot in Portugal, and who should I meet but Lieutenant Riley, who was just about to embark for England. We dined together. He talked, sir. Yes, he made me feel proud. Tom, the business can still be carried on with one of its partners in the army. I'm proud of you, lad."

Septimus John Clifford had a long tale to tell his son, and it was half an hour later before our hero recollected that he had left Jack waiting outside. By then he had learned all that had happened during his absence from England. How José's cruel conspiracy had been discovered. How in course of time a report had come through the Admiralty telling of Tom's impressment, of the action at sea, and of his behaviour. And then had followed silence. The ship on which he should have reached Oporto failed to put in an appearance. Reference to the French failed to discover news, and John Clifford was reduced again to the depths of despair, imagining that Tom had gone to the bottom of the sea with his comrades.

"Then there was the case of José, your cousin," he said severely. "He acted like a hound all through, and but for Huggins would have done us further injury. Imagine the duplicity and cunning of the rascal. He presented himself to your uncle here as your successor. He wormed himself artfully into his regard, intercepted all our letters, and finally bolted, having once more stolen all that he could lay his hands on. The news of his vileness brought me out here, and contrary winds delayed me till the night before last. Then, and only then, did I hear of you, my boy, and of all that you have been doing."

He stood away from our hero again and inspected him with obvious pride, while Don Juan peered through his spectacles at the young staff officer whom he called nephew.

"A fine soldier, John," he ventured. "A good leader, by all accounts."

"And come here to let us see him. What brought you, sir?" asked John.

"Business," said Tom crisply. "But let me call in my friend and adjutant. We have business with Don Juan."

The meeting with Jack was most cordial, and presently all four were seated in the office.

"Now," said Don Juan.

"We came to ask for your help," began Tom.

"If it's money you want, lad, as is only natural, why you shall have plenty," burst in John.

"It's men," answered our hero. "I want to raise a small force of Spaniards, and I want also a leader to act under my orders, on whom I can at once rely."

It was wonderful with what enthusiasm the two older gentlemen received this information. Don Juan pulled off his glasses and then pushed them back again on to his nose. He got up from his seat and paced backwards and forwards, and later suddenly faced the two officers.

"You want a command composed of Spaniards; I can lay my hand on such a force," he said. "Alfonso, my son, is now in Spain, within easy distance of Madrid, and, were I to command him, could raise a force there. But the men of the towns are not to be relied on. For guerrillas you could have none better than the mountaineers living on the frontier between Spain and Portugal."

"Just so," agreed Tom promptly. "Hardier and braver, sir."

"Precisely," came the answer; "and with this, added to their natural feelings of patriotism, they will be led by the son of the man on whose estate they work, and will have in supreme command that son's cousin, a British officer on the staff of no less a person than General Lord Wellington himself."

The little man skipped about the room in his enthusiasm, and forgot for the moment the decorum usually expected of a sedate business man. He snapped his fingers in his glee, and winked and blinked at Tom and at the company generally through his glasses.

"Alfonso shall call them up and command them," he cried; "Tom Clifford, of the firm of Septimus John Clifford & Son, shall be in supreme command. How's that for an arrangement? No trouble about pay either, Tom. I'll see to that; I've abundance with which to pay every one of the following."

The suggestion almost took Septimus Clifford's breath away. The stout little head of the old and extremely respectable business firm looked across at the jubilant little man, who for many a year had conducted the affairs of the firm in Portugal and Spain, as if he considered him mad. He gasped for breath, polished his bald head with a huge silk handkerchief of brilliant red colour, and blew heavily, puffing out his cheeks.

"What!" he exclaimed, pointing a fat finger at Don Juan. "You will place a force at Tom's disposal. You will call up the men on your estate, and will put your only son in command."

"Why not, sir?" Don Juan flashed out the question, and then smiled at his partner. "Why not? A pretty person you are, to be sure! You ask in one breath whether I will do this thing, knowing that my country is overrun by France, yet in the previous breath you sing praises because your only son, the son who should represent the firm, is on Lord Wellington's staff. Moreover, you gloated horribly over the details of the fighting in which he took a prominent part, and which were given you by that naval officer."

A condemnatory finger was pointed at Septimus John Clifford. Don Juan regarded him severely for some moments, and then smiled and snapped his fingers.

"Come," he said; "the affairs of our business lose significance when compared with the dangers of this country and the efforts of your soldiers. Tom asks for Spanish irregulars; he shall have them. He asks for a commander; Alfonso is the lad. Eh? You don't dare deny it."

Septimus did not. In his heart he was delighted, and, like the sensible, long-headed man he was, he promptly sat down to discuss ways and means. As for Tom and Jack, they spent three days in the city, and then, accompanied by a guide, set off for the Spanish frontier.

"You will be met there by Alfonso," said Don Juan. "I have sent a man across to him, and he will be at the estate as soon as you are. Here is a letter for him, and you will find that he will give you every assistance, and will fall into this scheme with eagerness."

Some three days later found our two heroes at the estate belonging to Don Juan, where they were joined a day later by Alfonso. He rode up on a big mule, and dropped from his saddle at the porch of the house. A fine, frank young fellow he proved to be.

"Glad to meet you, señors," he cried. "Which is my cousin?"

"You speak English?" asked Tom, when the greetings were over.

"Not a word; but Portuguese, of course."

"Then Jack must hurry up with his lessons," grinned Tom; for his adjutant, with that perverseness common to many English lads, hated languages. Too full, perhaps, of insular pride, he imagined that his own tongue should carry him everywhere, and that foreigners should promptly contrive to add English to theirs, rather than that he should be bothered to master any language beyond his own. A perverseness, one may call it, a perverseness that gives the foreigner an enormous opportunity, and in these days of easy transit and of broadened interests, is telling against the Englishman. The polyglot Britisher of to-morrow will advance better and farther than will the man of to-day who is ignorant of all other languages than his own. However, Jack was not the one to be stupid, and, indeed, for quite a while had been struggling with French, Portuguese, and Spanish.

The four weeks which followed were busy ones for the three young fellows. First the men of the estate had to be called up, together with others living in the neighbourhood.

"We want three hundred, so as to match those in Portugal," said Tom. "It will be as well also to have a reserve, who can go on training in our absence. I shall do the same with the men we have raised in Portugal, and, as it seems that the two forces are at this moment separated by only some fifty miles, there will be no need to move nearer. But we must enlist the help of men living between us. It will not be difficult to devise signals, such as fires on the hilltops, which will warn either party or will summon one to join the other."

The end of the month found Alfonso's particular command sufficiently trained for active work. No large amount of drill was given them; but they were able to perform simple movements, and, at Jack's suggestion, worked at the call of a whistle. One long call would see their bivouacs broken, their knapsacks swung over their shoulders, and each man in his place in the ranks, his musket at his shoulder. Consisting of three hundred men, they were divided into companies a hundred strong, for each of which a reliable leader was found. Moreover, Tom had no fault to find with the formation when those companies were drawn up for inspection.

"Smartness on parade is all very well, and good for discipline," he said, whereat Jack grinned his approval, "but it won't win engagements, and the engagements we are likely to be in don't require rigid lines. Try 'em with two long whistles."

Alfonso had barely given the signals when the companies broke up as if by magic and re-formed at once into small squares, with some fifty paces between them.

"For cavalry," said Jack, approval in his voice. "If they've courage, and will stand fast, cavalry will have little terror for them. If they break – "

"Every man would be cut to pieces, señor," said Alfonso. "That is a thing they know. I trust soon that we may have an opportunity of testing their courage."

It happened that such an opportunity came almost instantly, on the very morning when Tom and Jack were to return to Portugal. A couple of French squadrons burst suddenly upon the little command when engaged at drill, and galloped down upon them. For one moment there was confusion in the ranks; then Tom's cheery voice was heard, while Alfonso sounded his whistle.

"Get to the farthest square," Tom shouted at Jack. "I'll take the centre with Andrews, while Alfonso goes to the third. Our presence will hearten the men."

Clapping spurs to their horses' flanks they galloped to their posts, and, dismounting within each square, turned to face the enemy.

"Hold your fire till I shout," commanded Tom. "Let those who are kneeling reserve their fire till the men standing above them have opened upon the enemy. Have no fear, boys – double that strength of the enemy could not harm you."

But in spite of his assurance he had some qualms. Other guerrilla forces composed of Spaniards had thought to do well, and had faced French cavalry; but they had broken at the critical moment, and had been sabred to a man. Would these fine fellows follow suit, or would they stand firm? Ah! A man at one of the corners rose from his knees and looked wildly at the enemy. He dropped his musket as if it had stung him, and then, doubling up as if he were a hare, set off from the face of the square.

"Halt!" Tom bellowed. "You will be shot if you do not stop. Let the three men at the corner aim at him and fire if he does not return instantly."

There came a growl from many of the men. Two or three looked as if they might follow the bad example set them. Then there was a sharp report, followed by the fall of the coward who had bolted from the square, and who had been deaf to Tom's orders.

"Form up there in the corner," he commanded, severely. "You see what happens to a man who deserts his comrades. Let it be a lesson to all. Make ready to fire; stand firm. We shall beat them."

Let those who have not tested the experience imagine what nerve it must require to stand shoulder to shoulder in the open and see a horde of horse and men galloping down upon you. The animals take on a stature wonderfully enlarged – they seem even more ferocious than their riders – sabres whirl and appear to stretch far in advance, so as to reach easily an enemy. The situation brings for the instant a feeling of helplessness, one calculated to disturb the courage of the boldest. Would Tom's little command and the men massed in the other squares be proof against such an ordeal?

"Charge!" The loud command from the leader of the French squadrons sent a flood of men and horse madly down upon them.

CHAPTER XII

Guarding the By-ways

Grouped together in three separate squares, Tom's Spanish command awaited the onset of the French horse, each man gripping the musket supplied to him by his British allies, and, in the case of those in our hero's own particular square, awaiting his orders before discharging the weapon. Nor had the lesson of the shooting of the man who had fled from the ranks been lost on his comrades. There may have been others inclined to show cowardice; but such a salutary example checked them.

"Kneeling rank make ready!" shouted Tom, when the eyes of the oncoming troopers were visible. "Fire!"

A storm of bullets sped from the square, while the company nearest opened on the enemy at the same moment.

"Reload!" bellowed Tom, peering through the smoke. "Now those who are standing take aim. Fire!"

The volleys rang out in rather quick succession, and were followed at once by the ring of ramrods. And all the while there came to the ear the thunder of horses' hoofs and the shouts of excited men. Tom saw through the billowing smoke a number of dark figures which flashed past the square as if borne on a gale. A few of these same figures seemed to struggle against the current that bore them, and then, as the smoke blew aside, and one could see better, they appeared as individual troopers or officers who had reined back their horses. Then with loud and angry shouts they dug spurs deep into the flanks of the gallant beasts they rode, and, swinging their sabres, dashed madly at the nearest face of the square.

"Ready!" shouted Tom. "Fire individually. Keep them at a distance."

Once more there was a sharp fusillade; while, to the consternation of more than one of the men, bullets from the adjacent square, aimed no doubt at the enemy, swept overhead, narrowly missing friends. As for the French, foiled in this their first attempt, they drew off and re-formed at a distance. Tom at once climbed into his saddle and rode out to Alfonso's square.

"Bravely done, men!" he called out, reining in close at hand. "I see you did some execution; but you must be careful next time with your bullets. You sent a number just over our heads. Now, Alfonso, draw off your men by squares till we reach that broken ground. If we march as we are you will lead the way; Jack will come next, and my little lot will act as rearguard."

He rode across to Jack's company and congratulated them also. Then he rejoined his own men, while Alfonso set the whole command in motion. Taking care to keep the distances between the companies, the whole force marched away from the French, till a shout and a shrill whistle from the young Spaniard commanding the force caused all to halt. Looking over his shoulder, Tom saw that the Frenchmen were advancing again, and at once drew his own men compactly together.

"Remember that you are acting as the rearguard, and bear yourselves accordingly. Obey my orders and you will come out of the conflict victoriously. Let each man wait till he gets the word to fire."

It was as well, perhaps, that the men had had some previous experience of fighting; and though this was actually the first day on which they had come in conflict with the enemy, the recent charge of the French, and the manner in which they had been driven away, had heartened them wonderfully. Even so, this second occasion proved a greater ordeal for Tom's own particular company; for the French seemed to have decided to hurl all their weight on one square, with the object of defeating the three companies in detail. Drawing in their ranks now, they set their horses at Tom's square with an impetuous dash that elsewhere had sent Spaniards fleeing. Once more Tom saw the commander stand in his stirrups, fling his sabre overhead, and yell the command to charge. Then the mass came forward at speed, looking as if they would ride over the square and stamp every living man there out of existence. Crisp and cool came Tom's orders.