With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

"Corps? Corps?" exclaimed Tom, mystified for the moment. "Oh, I follow! I'm not in the army, Andrews. I was on my way out to Oporto, or, more correctly, I was going to sail for that place when I was impressed and sent aboard a British frigate. We had that action with the French man-of-war, and you were released. News had come out to the frigate, meanwhile, that I ought never to have been impressed, and so the captain sent me on in the sloop to Oporto. By rights I ought to be seated at a desk adding up long, dry columns."

Andrews gave vent to a gruff expression. "Strike me!" he cried, as if dumbfounded by the information; "and I and Howeley and all them French boys took you for an orficer. Anyways, sir, beggin' your pardon, you've done handsomely. It was a lucky thing for us that you took the command, for Mr. Barwood ain't fit for it. He got knocked out by the first bullet almost, and it was as much as he could do to stick to his saddle till we reached here. Mr. Riley ain't no better. If Howeley hadn't held him he'd have been left outside to be murdered. This here's a tough little business."

It proved, in fact, a fortunate thing for all concerned that Tom had taken the command. There are some who might express the opinion that he should not have done so, that it displayed an uppish spirit. Granted all that; but uppishness is just what is required in moments of stress and danger. The lad who is modest at all times, and yet who can come to the fore when circumstances urgently call for a leader, is a lad of the right sort, a benefactor to his comrades. In this case Tom had undoubtedly done the right thing, and, moreover, had done it well.

"It was real smart," said Andrews respectfully. "Beggin' pardon again, sir; there's many who would have been cornered. To go forward was impossible, to retreat out of the question, seeing as there were three hundred or more of the ruffians behind us. This was the only course. It's queer to think that we, who are fighting for the Portuguese against the French, should be boxed up here in danger of having our throats slit by those who ought to be friends."

"It's the fortune of war, Andrews," declared Tom. "I'm sorry for the wretches outside. By all accounts the French hate them intensely, for the Portuguese have shown more spirit than have the Spanish. They have contested the rights of the invaders from the beginning, and as a result the French have burned their villages and treated them badly. Indeed I believe they have behaved with the grossest cruelty. As a result there are reprisals, and we are swept up in one of these, and are likely to have a warm time of it before we are free."

"It's bound to be an ugly business," admitted Andrews. "I can hear them coming now."

"Then we'll go to the men," said Tom. "I'll give them orders not to fire till I tell them. Of course I shall make an attempt to win over the peasants."

"Eh? How's that, sir?" asked Andrews. "What about their lingo?"

"You forget I was meant for Oporto. I and my family have had associations with Portugal and Spain for a long while, and my cousins are Spanish. I speak both languages, but not well, I fear. I always hated lessons, and now wish to goodness I had been a little more diligent. However, I can make myself understood easily, and will try to win the peasants over."

They clambered down the long, rough ladder that led from the belfry, and went amongst the men, Tom warning all of them to hold their fire till he shouted. Meanwhile Howeley had reported to him that there was ammunition sufficient to supply each man with forty-two rounds. As for food and drink, to his dismay he was informed that there was little of either; so that it looked as if the contest could not last for long.

"We've just twenty-two men all told, counting yourself and the other officers," reported Andrews, some minutes later, saluting Tom as if he had no doubt as to his position. "Every window and door is guarded, and from what I can see of the troopers they are ready for any fighting. It's queer to think that we who were prisoners are in command, and no difficulty about it."

There was little doubt that the situation was more or less unique, and caused Mr. Riley the utmost amusement. He, poor fellow, had been struck in the ribs somewhat heavily, and lay in a corner, with Jack close beside him; but he smiled when our hero at length had time to approach him.

"My lad, you've done right well; you're a dead loss to the navy," he smiled. "I'm not surprised; after what I saw aboard the frigate I felt you would do something. Jack and I haven't worried you since we got here, as we saw you wanted freedom to think and arrange matters; but we're glad now that you're able to spare a few minutes. What will happen?"

Tom stayed with them for a quarter of an hour, and now that he felt that he had done all that was possible in arranging the defence, he employed his wits and energies in seeing to his comrades. In the case of Mr. Riley, he, with the help of Andrews and Howeley, bound his chest very firmly with a couple of girths taken from the horses, first of all, however, placing a pad over the wound, which was little more than a contusion. For Jack equally simple surgery sufficed, for a bullet had penetrated his thigh, and, the bleeding having stopped, all that was wanted was a dressing and a bandage, and fortunately the troopers carried these with them. They had hardly made him comfortable when the lookout man posted in the tower reported that a mass of men were coming.

"Remember – not a shot, my friends," Tom called out to the troops, "and take care not to show a light. I will see to these people and try to win them over."

He scrambled up an ancient flight of stone steps and passed on to a ledge over the doorway, which, no doubt, served the purpose of a pulpit in fine weather. There was a dull roar of voices coming towards him, while the space between himself and the village seemed to be filled with figures. Ten minutes later a mob had drawn up in front of the church. Tom stood to his full height and hailed them.

"My friends," he shouted in Portuguese. "We are English!"

A fearful yell answered him. Shrieks of anger floated up to his ears, while a hurricane of shots swept in his direction. Amidst the dancing torches that many of the people carried there flashed out splashes of flame. The vibrating roar of voices which followed had in it an awe-inspiring note. Tom might have been on the verge of a rocky coast on which huge breakers were thundering in their fury. That note spoke of hatred, of an approaching triumph, of a horrible gloating on the part of the peasants. It told better than individual words could do what were the intentions of the enemy, what would be the fate of the besieged if they fell into their hands. Then, of a sudden, catching a better view perhaps of the solitary figure above them, the mob became silent.

"My friends," called Tom, his tones clear, not a whimper in his voice, "you have made an error. There are five Englishmen amongst this party, five friends of the Portuguese. Let someone come forward to identify us."

There might have been a mob of wild beasts outside by the answer. The crowd, thinking no doubt that one of the Frenchmen was attempting to fool them, and rob them of a prey they now counted upon as their own, shrieked aloud and came surging forward. More shots rang out, stones were thrown; and then, with a loud crash, the leaders came against the door of the church. Tom clambered down to his men, stern and pale and determined.

"Post three of them up on the ledge," he told Andrews, who was a valuable help to him. "Let others fire through the windows when I shout. Don't fire till then."

He repeated the words in French, and then waited till there came a stunning blow upon the door, a blow which shook it to the hinges and threatened to throw it down. It was clear, in fact, that the mob outside were longing to get at the troopers. Shouts and oaths could be heard, while the clatter of firearms was incessant.

CHAPTER VI

Napoleon the Ambitious

Within the village church in which the French troopers and their one-time English prisoners had taken refuge under Tom Clifford's guidance there was a deathly silence while the mob outside shrieked and shouted. Not one of the defenders but knew what fate awaited them if once the enemy beat in the doors, and knowing that they listened as blow after blow thundered upon the woodwork, shaking the doors till they threatened to fall down.

"Andrews," shouted Tom, who had been listening acutely like the rest, and wondering what action he ought to take, "light up one of the torches and take a couple of men with you. We want something to place behind the doors, for in a little while they will be beaten in. Meanwhile I will try again to pacify the peasants."

It was a forlorn hope, and yet worth trying. Tom, therefore, clambered up the steep flight of stone steps again, while Andrews went off to do his bidding. Stepping past the three men who had ascended to the ledge above the crowd our hero once more stood to his full height and shouted to attract the attention of the peasants. And once more his coming was the signal for an outburst of shouts, shrieks, groans, and hisses which might well have appalled a brave man. Muskets flashed in the semi-darkness, for night had now come, while here and there torches flamed over the heads of the people. Bullets spattered and broke against the stonework about him, thudding heavily, even splashing him with portions of lead. One enthusiast, in fact, as if driven frantic by the sight of his person, made a vain attempt to clamber up the ledge, and, missing his footing, fell back upon the crowd, his coming setting rise to oaths and shouts of anger. Then there fell a sudden silence while a brawny giant, a blacksmith no doubt, stepped from under the archway of the door, a huge hammer over his shoulder, showing that it was he who had been delivering those smashing blows on the door.

"People of Portugal," Tom called out loudly, "I have come again to speak to you. You fight with friends, not with enemies."

The howl that followed would have scared even a veteran.

"Friends! You say friends!" shouted the blacksmith, stepping still farther out from the arch, while a couple of torches near him illuminated his person. "Who are you that you should try to fool us? We know our business well enough. For days we have watched this troop of horse, and for days we have vowed to kill every man of them, to kill them slowly if we may. Who are you, speaking our tongue, who dare to say that you are friends?"

Shouts of applause greeted the words. An excited individual near the speaker levelled a pistol and fired point-blank at Tom, narrowly missing his head. Then once more there was silence. The crowd, in fact, seemed to have realized their own power now, and knew well that the church was surrounded. Eager though they were to slaughter the troopers, they did not grudge a few moments' delay.

"Who are you?" they shouted hoarsely.

"I am English," answered Tom at once, "and so are four others amongst us. We were being carried as prisoners."

"A lie!" came fiercely from someone in the crowd. "If he and the four beside were prisoners, why then were they armed? Why did they fight us at the entrance to the village?"

The argument was greeted with roars of applause again, which silenced all Tom's efforts. Then the blacksmith held his hammer aloft to command silence, and, having obtained it, seized a torch and held it high up toward our hero.

"Listen, friends and brothers," he called in hoarse tones. "There is one above who speaks our tongue and tells us that he and four others are English and therefore friends. Good! Let us say that this is no lie. There are four, while we are four hundred. Let these four, with the one who speaks to us, come out from the church. If their tale is true they shall live and we will feed and house them. If they lie – "

The sentence was broken by discordant shouts of glee at the blacksmith's wit, shouts that boded ill for anyone foolhardy enough to place himself in the hands of such people, so roused by events, and mad for slaughter, that they were incapable of recognizing friend from foe.

"Let the five come out to us," shouted the blacksmith, "leaving the others to be dealt with as we will."

Tom waited for the noise which followed to die down, and then bent over the crowd. "What you ask is impossible," he said firmly. "I and my English friends will not desert the troopers. But we are ready to hand ourselves over to a body of English troops when you bring them to us. To you we will not trust ourselves, and I warn you that efforts on your part will lead to the death of many. Now, be wise; reflect on the consequences and leave us alone."

Had he wished to stir the rage of the peasants Tom could not have done it more effectually. Screams of rage filled the air, while a torrent of bullets sped toward him. He stepped back from the ledge, clambered down the stairs, and seized a carbine and ammunition.

"My friends," he said in French, "those wolves outside ask for our lives. We will sell them dearly. Let each man fire the moment the attack begins, remembering to make each shot tell, for ammunition is very scarce. Ah, is that you, Andrews?"

"Yes, sir," came the answer, while the rifleman drew himself up stiffly in front of our hero, a lighted torch still in one hand. "There are pews, which we might break up," he reported; "but they're light, too light to be of use in a doorway. But one of the horses is dead, sir. If we were to pull him along here he'd make an obstacle they'd have difficulty in moving."

"A horse!" the novel idea startled Tom. And then, on consideration, it appeared that nothing could be better. At once he sent Andrews off with four of the men to drag the animal towards the door, while he himself took the candle, and, striding over to the pews that filled the floor of the church, closely inspected them. A scheme for saving ammunition was growing in his brain; for it was clear that if the enemy persisted in an attack the wherewithal to load the muskets would soon be expended.

"The doors will be broken down in no time," he told himself; "then we shall be separated from the peasants merely by the barrier we happen to place in position – a horse on this occasion. What we want is something long with which to keep them at a distance."

Calling two of the troopers, he urged them to break up half a dozen of pews as swiftly as possible, keeping the long timbers intact.

"Use your sabres," he said, "and when you have the timbers separated, point them at one end. I want a couple of dozen spears with which to fend off these peasants. Ah, there goes the hammer again!"

A terrific blow resounded upon the door, which was followed almost immediately by a sharp report from the ledge above, and then by a howl. The blacksmith had not lived to see the triumph that he had anticipated. One of the French troopers had leaned over and shot him with his carbine. But the shot made little difference. A dozen infuriated peasants sprang forward to seize the hammer, while shots came from all directions. Then, amidst the sounds, steps were heard on the narrow staircase leading from the ledge.

"Monsieur," said the man, running up to Tom, "there are men bringing masses of straw to pile against the door. My comrades have discovered a gallery leading from the ledge, with steps at the far end. There is a large room also, and much building material there. It seems that at one time the church was larger. Will monsieur sanction the tossing of stones on the heads of the enemy?"

Tom nodded promptly, his features lighting up. By the aid of the flickering torch the trooper was able to see that the young fellow who had so suddenly taken command of the party was actually smiling.

"Ma foi!" he exclaimed sotto voce, "but the Englishman cares nothing for this trouble! He is the one to lead."

"I will come up as soon as I am able," said Tom. "Meanwhile, do as best you can. Toss anything on their heads, but, above all, save ammunition."

The man was gone in a moment, while blows again sounded on the door, one more violent than any which had preceded it shattering the upper hinges. The shouts of triumph which burst from the peasants were followed by a couple or more dull thuds, as if heavy bodies had been dropped on the heads of the attackers, and then by a chorus of shrieks denoting hatred and execration. Meanwhile a stir in the church told of men struggling at some task, and presently Andrews appeared with his helpers, and behind them the carcass of a horse.

"He fell dead in a hollow leading to a doorway," explained Andrews in short gasps, "and to bring him here we had to drag him up a couple of high steps. Once on the main floor of the church the carcass slid easily enough; but earlier – my word it was hard work! There! the carcass fills the lower part of the doorway, and as the legs are in this direction those brutes will have nothing to take a grip of. What orders, sir?"

"Pull the pews out of their places and pile them one on another round the doorway," answered Tom, who had been sketching out his plans in the meanwhile. "You and Howeley and two of the troopers will take post on them a little to one side, and will fire into the crowd once the doors give way. The other men will be below you, and I am supplying them with spears made from the timbers of some of the pews. You and they together should be able to keep the enemy off."

It may be imagined that each man amongst the defenders appointed to some task had laboured at it with all haste, and by now the men Tom had instructed to break up pews had almost finished their work. Indeed, within a few minutes, and just before the doors were burst in and fell over the carcass of the horse with a clatter, they had produced more than a dozen long pieces of strong timber, each one roughly hacked to a point at one end; and being some fifteen feet in length these improvised spears promised to be of great service. In a few seconds, in fact, they were put to a useful if somewhat unkind purpose; for the fall of the doors was the signal for a mad rush on the part of the peasants. The three or four hundred or more outside, howling about the entrance to the church, launched themselves promptly at the black void, where but a few moments before the flames from the torches had shown doors. A hundred struggled to lead the attackers where there was room only for half a dozen, and as a result they came surging on in a compact mass, which threatened to push the carcass of the horse aside as if it were a mere nothing. Then wiser counsels prevailed. Elbow room was given to those in advance, and soon shots were whistling through the doorway, while men armed with sabres, with pitchforks, with scythes and every class of weapon dashed up the steps and hurled themselves at the opening. Thud! thud! the stones came from the ledge above, striking the peasants down. The muskets wielded by Andrews and his comrades swept away the more dangerous of the enemy – those provided with firearms – while the troopers handling the long spears fashioned from pew timbers made effective use of their weird weapons. They thrust them at the enemy, giving terrible wounds. They beat them over the head till many dropped, and then advancing a pace or two, so that their weapons projected through the doorway over the carcass of the horse, they drove the peasants away from the entrance altogether.

"Stop firing!" shouted Tom, seeing that the peasants were retreating.

"We have taught them a sharp lesson, and that is enough for the moment. We don't want to rouse their anger further, and will try to show them that all we want is to be left alone, but that if they attack us we are fully able to give hard knocks in return. Anyone hurt?"

He repeated the words in French, and was relieved to hear that not one of the men had received so much as a scratch.

"Then we are well out of the first attack. Now we'll eat," he said. "We shall have to go on short rations without a doubt, and since that can't be helped we must make the most of it."

Leaving a man still in the belfry, and one of the troopers on the ledge, he posted two others at the rear of the church. Then he and Andrews, with the help of two of the troopers, collected all the rations contained in the saddle bags, divided them into four portions, and finally issued a share of one portion to each one of the defenders. Thereafter they sat in the darkness eating the food, while, there being no news of the enemy, who seemed to have retired to the village, some of the men went to sleep, while others lit pipes and smoked contentedly. Tom sat down beside Mr. Riley and Jack, and devoured his own meal with an avidity which showed that excitement rather increased his appetite than the reverse.

"Splendidly managed, lad!" declared Mr. Riley, when he had finished the meal. "Not the eating of your rations, but the defence. Dear, dear, what a loss to the service!"

"Which service, sir?" asked Jack swiftly, for though wounded, and more or less incapable, the old spirit was still there. There was, in fact, a cheeky grin of enquiry on his somewhat pallid features, a pallor made even more evident by the flickering flame of a torch burning near the trio.

"Eh?" asked Mr. Riley, taken aback. "Which service? The service, I said."

"Army?" grinned Jack exasperatingly.

"I'll hammer you, my lad, when once you're fit," laughed the naval officer. "As if anyone could misunderstand me! I say that the service has lost a budding Nelson – a Nelson, Jack; as good a man as ever trod a deck. Tom's a loss to the service, now isn't he?"

"Army; yes, sir," grinned Jack, rolling his eyes at the naval officer.

"Joking apart, though," said Mr. Riley, ignoring the fun of the ensign, "Tom'll be a loss in an office. Just imagine our friend perched on a high stool battling with facts and figures, when he's shown he's capable of battling with people. Tom, I call it a downright sin. If you were my brother I'd say 'Go hang' to the office."

"Hear, hear!" cried Jack. "If Tom'd just give it up for a time and come along with us, why, I'd – "

"You?" interrupted Mr. Riley, with a smile of incredulity; for though Jack was undoubtedly dashing and gallant enough, he lacked the stamina and serious thought of one who leads.

"I," repeated the incorrigible ensign, "I– with a capital to it, please – I'd make the dear boy a general before he knew what was happening."

There was a roar of laughter at that, a roar which brought the troopers to a sitting posture, their fingers on their carbines. And then a smile was exchanged amongst them.

"Parbleu! but these English are proper fellows," said one to his comrade. "They come to us as prisoners, and we see at once that they are good comrades. They fall into the same trap with us too, and, having received arms, act as if they were French and not English. Now, one of them having saved the lives of all here, and having brought us to a nest which may be described as that of a hornet, they laugh and joke and make merry. Ma foi! but these English are too good to fight with. It is the rascals of Spaniards we should engage with."

"Hear 'em!" grunted the rifleman Howeley, stretched near his comrade Andrews. "That 'ere Mr. Jack's a givin' lip to the naval orficer. Ten ter one he's sayin' as how the British army's better nor the navy. Equal, I says, all the time, though the army's my choice. Mate, who's this Mr. Clifford? What's his corps? He's a smart 'un."

His mouth went agape when the worthy Andrews informed him that Tom was merely a civilian, a class upon which Howeley had, in his own particular lordly way, been rather apt to look down.

"Civilian!" he gasped. "Strike me! But – "

"He's led us grandly. He's dropped into the post of commander as if he had been trained for it, as if it were his by right. I know all that," declared Andrews. "Tell you, my lad, he'd make a proper soldier."

Meanwhile Tom had faced the naval lieutenant eagerly.

"You think I'd do as an officer, sir?" he asked.

"Indeed I do," came the answer. "A regular could not have done better than you have done. You'll be a loss – "

"To the army," burst in the irrepressible Jack, grinning widely.

"To either service," said Mr. Riley seriously.

"Then, sir, I shall ask to join the army," declared our hero. "I seem to have been meant for it. This is the second time that my efforts to reach an office have been foiled. I shall attempt to obtain a commission; then I'll see what can be done to help Jack to capture Boney and turn the French out of the Peninsula."