The Spanish Bride

5

Harry was agog with excitement at the prospect of the coming attack, but not even the hope of moving to dryer and warmer quarters could make Juana think of it with anything but misgiving. Harry had trained her so well that she did her best to conceal her fears from him. When Colborne, whose deep-set eyes saw so much more than Harry’s, talked reassuringly to her, she controlled a quivering lip, and said that indeed she was not going to be silly, and he must not on any account tell Enrique how afraid she was that she would never see him again.

When, at nightfall, on the 8th November, the brigade moved forward from its encampment, Harry had gone a short distance when he suddenly reined in, and exclaimed: ‘Oh, by Jupiter, I forgot to say good-bye to my wife!’ ‘You had better go back, then,’ said Colborne.

‘I had, indeed!’ Harry said. ‘I don’t know how I came to forget, but she will certainly box my ears!’

‘Well, I daresay it will serve you right. Be off with you, and make haste!’ Juana heard the thud of Old Chap’s hooves galloping up to the wooden hut which Harry had had built. She was sitting with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and instead of greeting Harry with a storm of abuse, which he quite expected, she flung herself into his arms as soon as he came in, and clung to him in silence.

He felt how her heart beat against his, and said remorsefully: ‘Hija, forgive me! I was so busy, right up to the last, that I clean forgot!’

Only a deep sigh answered him. He held her away from him, and tilted up her chin. ‘Hallo, what’s the matter?’

‘Enrique!’ she said, her throat painfully constricted, ‘either you or your horse will be killed tomorrow! I know it, here!’ She pressed a hand to her breast, looking mournfully up at him. He laughed. ‘Well, of two such chances, I hope it may be the horse!’ ‘You don’t believe me.’

He took her face between his hands, and kissed her. ‘Sweetheart, no!’ ‘I should not have said it. But it is true.’

‘Nonsense! There, I must go! Take care of yourself, and be sure I’ll take good care of myself!’

He gave her another kiss, rather a rough one, because her eyes were full of tears, and ran out again to jump on Old Chap’s back, and ride off” after the brigade. The night was very dark, and as there was no road over the mountain ridge, leading the column to the appointed place was a ticklish business. But Colborne’s lessons stood Harry in good stead, and he found that even in the darkness he was able to recognize the boulders and bushes he had been made to study so minutely. Since quiet was essential for the success of the movement, Colborne remained near the brigade, and sent Harry on from point to point before he would allow the men to march forward. Even when Harry found his landmarks, he was not always satisfied, but several times rode up himself to make sure that no mistake had been made.

All talking in the ranks was forbidden, and the men were warned to tread carefully when they marched down the northern slope of the mountain. Once or twice a small boulder, dislodged by an unwary foot, went rolling and bounding down the hill, but the brigade finally crept up behind their advanced picket, a hundred and fifty yards from the enemy, without having betrayed their approach by any more serious noise.

Halting the column, Colborne and Harry rode forward to the picket, knowing that the French, if they heard them, would think that they were merely visiting outposts, in the usual way. They found the picket sitting round a camp-fire, their rifles across their knees, and every man quite as alert as the sentry posted a little in advance. Colborne was pleased, and commended them for their vigilance. The Sergeant said softly: ‘Well, sir, it don’t seem to be quite the time to be lying snoring, as you might say. But there’s nothing stirring in our front.’ Satisfied, Colborne returned to the brigade; and Harry, having seen the men all lying down under their blankets, snatched a couple of hours’ sleep himself. Fane, who had chosen to remain with him rather than go to the rear, tried to sleep too, but could not. He sat huddled in his greatcoat, keeping the cold out with frequent nips of brandy from his flask, and wondering how Harry could drop off so easily, and sleep so peacefully. ‘You are a callous devil, and I’m sure I don’t know why I like you so much,’ he said softly and sadly, tucking the boat-cloak under Harry’s unconscious form.

Harry was jerked awake, an hour before daylight, by the sudden report of a musket. He was up in a minute, an oath on his lips, but although some anxious moments had to be lived through, no alarm sounded from the French outpost. The soldier who had accidentally fired his piece was silently and scientifically kicked by his friends, and all was still again. There was not much sleep after that. The men lay watching the dim crests of the mountains for the first signs of dawn. While they had been eating a meal of meat and biscuits at two in the morning, Kempt’s brigade had arrived after a long march by road, and had silently taken up its position beside Colborne’s. Once again the brigades were going to engage the enemy separately, Kempt’s business being to get across the marsh in his front, and to assail the narrow hog’s-back ridge, two-thirds of the way up the side of the Rhune; and Colborne’s to work round the extreme west of the mountain, and to rush the table-land beyond the hog’s back, with its strong forts. To the right of the division, Giron’s Spaniards, and the Enthusiastics were to attack the Rhune on its eastern side.

The advance was to be a general one, but no one in the Light division had much thought to spare for the proceedings of any other part of the army than that massed for the main attack on the French centre. The weakest point in the enemy’s defences was the opening between the two Rhunes and the Nivelle river, but the lesser Rhune formed an effective bar to an approach along this line. A wag, looking at the impregnable front of the mountain, said: ‘It’s a pity them fine new Sappers and Miners wot didn’t do any good at San Sebastian don’t blow up that bloody mountain, then we wouldn’t ’ave to go scaling up it.’ ‘We won’t ever get up it, will we?’ asked a young soldier, trying not to let his teeth chatter. ‘Ho, so that’s wot you think, is it? ’Ow the ’ell are we going to get at Johnny Peril’s lines if we don’t take the Rhune first?’

‘It looks an awful place!”

‘Don’t talk so cork-brained! Nice thing if the Light Bobs couldn’t kick the Crapauds off of their perch any day they felt like it!’ said the veteran scathingly. ‘You give over, now, and keep your eyes skinned for the dawn!”

‘I wish it would come quick!’

‘Well, it won’t come no quicker for your wishing. Stow your gab!’ The signal for the attack was to be three gun-shots fired from the top of the Atchubia mountain, away to the east of the division. Some firing was heard to the west a little before dawn, and the young soldier started at the sound of it.

‘Keep quiet, that’s ‘Ope,’ growled his companion. ‘False attack. If you’re alive this time tomorrow, you won’t be so green as wot you are now, that’s one comfort.’ All heads were turned towards the east. The dark mass of Mount Atchubia could be seen against the grey sky, but it was not until six o’clock that the first rays of sunlight stole over the summit. Almost at the same instant, the signal shots were fired. Orders ran down the lines; the men leaped to their feet, and formed up; and two companies of the 43rd regiment, of Kempt’s brigade, surged forward to plunge through the marsh, while the rest of the regiment advanced against the crags of the Rhune in their front Seven columns were launched against the Rhune, and so successful had the night-marches been that the attack took the enemy completely by surprise. During the rush from the lower slopes of the Grand Rhune, across the difficult ravine to the base of the Petite Rhune, the French were seen flying to man their formidable defences. A few pieces, opened fire, and from the top of the Grand Rhune were immediately answered by the mountain artillery placed there. Colborne, advancing simultaneously with Kempt, passed along the dead ground of the ravine on the southern side of the Rhune while the skirmishers of the 1st brigade were engaging the attention of the French on the lower slopes, and penetrated beyond the western end of the defences. The 52nd regiment, sweeping aside all opposition, went up the slopes of the Mouiz hill in an impetuous charge, to take in flank the breast-works and fortifications which the Riflemen were assailing.

Never had the Light division engaged on a more glorious action. The speed of their advance, and the bravery of their several attacks must have satisfied great little Craufurd himself. By eight o’clock, the key of the French position was won, and the way lay open for an attack against the main position on the Nivelle. Major Napier, with his pantaloons torn and singed by gun-fire, had led the 43rd regiment up on to the hog’s back in spite of every effort made to repulse him. Gunfire, musketry, and great boulders rolled over the craggy sides of the position were not enough to check the advance of the 43rd. Up they came, climbing over places that looked inaccessible, and one after another the three forts on the ridge fell into their hands. The casualties were appalling, but nothing could check the swarm of redcoats. A seven-foot wall protected the first of the redoubts, but it was scaled in the teeth of a murderous fire from the defenders. Major Napier was all but bayoneted as he tried to hoist himself over the top from a precarious foothold on a projecting stone half-way up, and was dragged down, much to his rage, by a couple of his subalterns. The men were so exhausted by the time the French fled from the redoubt, that they flung themselves panting on the ground, heedless of the fire from the second of the redoubts. As soon as they had recovered their breath, they rushed forward again, hike so many scarlet devils, stormed the Magpie’s Nest redoubt, and surged on, leaving their dead and wounded in mounds behind them, and formed up in some sort of order for an attack upon the Donjon, the last of the redoubts along the ridge.

From the Magpie’s Nest, a fine view of the whole field of battle could be had. Below it, a ravine separated the spur from the Mouiz height, which the 52nd regiment had reached. Up the ravine, Kempt was leading his Portuguese reserve, but it was Colborne’s swift advance which decided the day. Finding their flank turned, and themselves in peril of being cut off, the French on the Mouiz hill abandoned their trenches, and fled northwards in considerable confusion. The troops opposing the Portuguese caught the terror, and followed suit; and when the garrison in the Donjon fort on the Lesser Rhune saw the disordered retreat of their comrades across the ravine, they deserted the fort before Napier had finished forming his men up for an attack upon it.

On the Mouiz height, Colborne was re-forming his men for an attack upon the main French position, north of the Lesser Rhune. All along the forty-mile front, guns were pounding the lines. It was a brilliant day, without a trace of fog in the valleys; Hope’s divisions could be seen threatening the French lines from the coast to the Rhunes; and on the sparkling waters of the Bay of Biscay the distant ships were so clearly etched against the sky that they looked like miniatures. Eastward, fifty thousand men were pouring down the slope of Mount Atchubia, their bayonets flashing in the sunlight. On the Mouiz ridge itself, the only French troops left were those manning a strong star-redoubt, placed on the edge of a steep hill. Colborne, approaching it along a narrow neck of land, halted the 52nd under the brow of the hill, for his experience told him that since it was isolated from the rest of the French army there was no need to waste men’s lives in an assault upon it. Kempt’s brigade was already turning it on the left, and Cole was coming up with the Enthusiastics to the rear; while Giron’s Spaniards, to the right of Colborne, closed in on the eastern side.

Harry, who had just changed Old Chap for his thoroughbred mare, joined Colborne on the neck of land below the redoubt. He had been in the thick of the fighting, but was unscathed. ‘Barnard’s been hit,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how badly: Simmons has taken him to the rear. Kempt’s wounded too, but they say he’s still on the field. By Jove, sir, there was never such a day! Do you mean to assail the redoubt?’

‘I see no need. It can’t hold out, and we should lose men for no purpose,’ Colborne replied, looking up at the steep hill above him.

The Spaniards on his right chose, however, at that moment, to make a demonstration against the fort. The defenders sent them quickly to the rightabout, and just as Colborne was observing their proceedings with a good deal of annoyance, Charles Beckwith rode up with orders from Alten for the brigade to move on.

‘Move on?’ said Colborne. ‘What do you mean by that? Does General Alten wish me to attack the redoubt? If we leave it to our right or left, it must fall as a matter of course. Our whole army will be beyond it in twenty minutes.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Beckwith, who was looking tired and harassed. ‘Your orders are to move on.’

‘Charlie, am I to attack the redoubt?’ demanded Colborne.

‘I tell you, I only know you are to move on!’ replied Beckwith, wheeling his horse, and galloping off. ‘What an evasive order!’ said Colborne.

‘Oh, sir, do let us take the last of the works!’ Harry said, his eyes sparkling. ‘It will be done in a few minutes!’

‘It seems that we must do so. Advance in column of companies !’

No sooner was the 52nd in motion, climbing the hill under the fort, than it was made plain to them that the French meant to defend the place. Such a murderous fire met the troops that the leading ranks were mown down. The regiment struggled on, Colborne at their head, and gained the crest, only to be brought up short by a deep, well-palisaded ditch cut in front of the redoubt. They recoiled before the fire of the defenders, and sought cover in a little ravine. As soon as they could be re-formed, Colborne led them forward again through a rain of shot and shell. Within twenty yards of the ditch, Harry’s mare was struck. He turned her quickly, so that as he jumped off her body should be between him and the enemy’s fire, and as he swung a leg over another shot hit her, and she fell, pinning Harry under her, her blood pouring on to his face.

Colborne saw Harry go down, but was too busy encouraging his men to pay much heed. Shells were bursting all round him, and the 52nd were suffering shocking losses without being able to make any headway against the redoubt. Tom Fane, dismounting from his horse, ran to him, and shouted. Tray get off, sir, pray get off! You will be killed in an instant!’ ‘No! This is absurd! They must surrender!’ Colborne exclaimed, and pulling out his handkerchief, rode forward, waving it above his head. As he approached the ditch, the fire slackened. He spurred right up to the brink, and seeing an officer within the works, called out: ‘What nonsense this is, attempting to hold out! You are surrounded on every side! There are Spaniards on the left: you had better surrender at once!’

He spoke loudly, and the French officer, thinking that he was trying to urge the men to surrender, leaned over the wall, saying indignantly: ‘You are speaking to my men!’ ‘That is all nonsense: you must surrender!’

‘You incite my men to desert me! Retire, or I will shoot you!’

‘If a shot is fired now that you are surrounded by our army,’ said Colborne, ‘we’ll put every man to the sword! Come now, or you will have the Spaniards here directly!’ The dread of falling into Spanish hands had a decided effect upon the defenders of the redoubt, as Colborne knew it would. The officer hesitated, but his situation was hopeless, and after a moment he asked Colborne to come into the fort to arrange terms. Meanwhile, Harry, crushed under the body of his mare, but miraculously unhurt, was shouting to some soldiers near at hand to come and pull him out. They ran towards him, astonished to find him alive.

‘Why, damn my eyes if our old Brigade-Major is killed after all!’ one of them exclaimed.

‘Come, pull me out!’ said Harry. ‘I’m not even wounded: only squeezed!’ ‘Lor’, sir, you’re as bloody as a butcher!’ said a stout private, hauling him out from under the mare.

Harry did not trouble to wipe the blood from his face, but ran to join Colborne, who had pulled out his note-book, and was writing in it, in French, I surrender unconditionally. ‘Hallo, Smith! I thought you were dead. Give this to that fellow, and tell him to sign it,’ Colborne said.

The French officer burst out laughing when Harry went into the fort. ‘One would say you were a walking corpse!’ he said. ‘You are literally covered with blood!’

‘Nevertheless, I’m very much alive,’ replied Harry, giving him Colborne’s paper to sign. The officer grimaced at the words Colborne had written, but since there was no help for it, scrawled his name, and gave the paper back to Harry.

‘That’s right,’ said Colborne, when Harry brought it to him. ‘Find yourself a fresh horse, and take it to Wellington.’

‘Here, have mine!’ Fane said, thrusting his bridle into Harry’s hand. ‘What a sight you are to be sure!’

Harry was, indeed, such a mask of blood that when he rode up to Wellington, his lordship demanded: ‘Who are you, sir?’

‘The Brigade-Major, and Rifle brigade, my lord,’ replied Harry. His lordship stared at him. ‘Hallo, Smith! Are you badly wounded?’ ‘Not at all, sir: it’s my horse’s blood,’ said Harry, giving him Colborne’s paper. ‘Well!’ said Wellington, taking it, and running his eye over it. ‘Tell Colborne I approve. Did you lose many men in that affair?’

‘Yes, my lord, very many.’

‘I’m sorry for it,’ said his lordship, looking down his nose. ‘No need to have attacked the redoubt.’

‘Our orders were to move on, sir.’

‘Dey were not mine! Dere is some mistake!’ Alten said angrily. ‘I sent no order to Colborne! I dink Colborne understands his pusiness fery well widout such orders from me.’ ‘Ah-h’m! I wish Staff-officers would learn to know their duties better!’ said his lordship, with one of his frosty glares.