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Discovering Diverse Content Through
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lying on the ground, many of them being clothed in the long black
gaiters then worn by the infantry of the line. The surgeons had
plenty of work on hand that day, and not having time to take off the
clothes of the wounded, they merely ripped the seams and turned
the cloth back, proceeding with the operation as fast as they could.
Many of the wounded came straggling into this churchyard in search
of assistance, by themselves. I saw one man, faint with loss of
blood, staggering along, and turned to assist him. He was severely
wounded in the head, his face being completely incrusted with the
blood which had flowed during the night, and had now dried. One
eyeball was knocked out of the socket, and hung down upon his
cheek.
Another man I observed who had been brought in, and propped
against a grave-mound. He seemed very badly hurt. The men who
had carried him into the churchyard, had placed his cap filled with
fragments of biscuit close beside his head, and as he lay he
occasionally turned his mouth towards it, got hold of a piece of
biscuit, and munched it.
As I was about to leave the churchyard, Dr. Ridgeway, one of the
surgeons, called me back, to assist in holding a man, he was
endeavouring to operate upon.
"Come and help me with this man," he said, "or I shall be all day
cutting a ball out of his shoulder."
The patient's name was Doubter, an Irishman. He disliked the
doctor's efforts, and writhed and twisted so much during the
operation that it was with difficulty Dr. Ridgeway could perform it. He
found it necessary to cut very deep, and Doubter made a terrible
outcry at every fresh incision.
"Oh, doctor dear!" he said, "it's murdering me you are! Blood an'
'ounds! I shall die!—I shall die! For the love of the Lord don't cut me
all to pieces!"
Doubter was not altogether wrong; for, although he survived the
operation, he died shortly afterwards from the effects of his wounds.
After I was dismissed by the doctor, I gladly left the churchyard, and
returning to the hill where the Rifles were bivouacked, was soon
afterwards ordered by Captain Leech to get my shoe-making
implements from my pack, and commence work upon the men's
waist-belts, many of which had been much torn during the action,
and I continued to be so employed as long as there was light
enough to see by, after which I lay down amongst them to rest.
We lay that night upon the hill-side, many of the men breaking
boughs from the trees at hand, in order to make a slight cover for
their heads; the tents not being then with us.
I remember it was intensely cold during that night. So much so that
I could not sleep, but lay with my feet drawn up, as if I had a fit of
the cramp. I was indeed compelled more than once during the night
to get up and run about, in order to put warmth into my benumbed
limbs.

CHAPTER VII.
The march to Spain—A hornet's nest—Beating up for quarters—
A momentous question—The reply—Salamanca—Heavy
marches.

Three days' march brought us without the walls of Lisbon, where we

halted, and, the tents soon after coming up, were encamped. The
second day after our arrival, as I was lying in my tent, Captain Leech
and Lieutenant Cox entering it, desired me to rise and follow them.
We took the way towards the town, and wandered about the streets
for some time. Both these officers were good-looking men, and, in
their Rifle uniform, with the pelisse hanging from one shoulder, and
hessian-boots then worn, cut a dash, I thought, in the streets of
Lisbon. There were no other English that I could observe in the town
this day; and, what with the glances of the black-eyed lasses from
the windows, and the sulky scowl of the French sentinels as we
passed, I thought we caused quite a sensation in the place. Indeed I
believe we were the first men that entered Lisbon after the arrival of
the army without its walls.
After some little time had been spent in looking about us, the
officers spied an hotel, and entering it, walked up-stairs. I myself
entered a sort of taproom below, and found myself in the midst of a
large assemblage of French soldiers, many of whom were wounded,
some with their arms hanging in scarfs, and others bandaged about
the head and face. In short, one half of them appeared to carry
tokens of our bullets of a few days before.
At first they appeared inclined to be civil to me, although my
appearance amongst them caused rather a sensation, I observed,
and three or four rose from their seats, and with all the swagger of
Frenchmen strutted up, and offered to drink with me. I was young
then, and full of the natural animosity against the enemy so
prevalent with John Bull. I hated the French with a deadly hatred,
and refused to drink with them, shewing by my discourteous manner
the feelings I entertained; so they turned off, with a "Sacré!" and a
"Bah!" and, reseating themselves, commenced talking at an amazing
rate all at once, and no man listening to his fellow.
Although I could not comprehend a word of the language they
uttered, I could pretty well make out that I myself was the subject of
the noise around me. My discourteous manners had offended them,
and they seemed to be working themselves up into a violent rage.
One fellow, in particular, wearing an immense pair of mustachios,
and his coat loosely thrown over his shoulders, his arm being
wounded, and in a sling, rose up, and attempted to harangue the
company. He pointed to the pouch at my waist, which contained my
bullets, then to my rifle, and then to his own wounded arm, and I
began to suspect that I should probably get more than I had
bargained for on entering the house, unless I speedily managed to
remove myself out of it, when, luckily, Lieutenant Cox and Captain
Leech entered the room in search of me. They saw at a glance the
state of affairs, and instantly ordered me to quit the room,
themselves covering my retreat.
"Better take care, Harris," said the captain, "how you get amongst
such a party as that again. You do not understand their language; I
do: they meant mischief."
After progressing through various streets, buying leather and
implements for mending our shoes, the two officers desired me
again to await them in the street, and entered a shop close at hand.
The day was hot, and a wine-house being directly opposite me, after
waiting some time, I crossed over, and, going in, called for a cup of
wine. Here I again found myself in the midst of a large assemblage
of French soldiers, and once more an object of curiosity and dislike.
Nevertheless, I paid for my wine, and drank it, regardless of the
clamour my intrusion had again called forth. The host, however,
seemed to understand his guests better than I did, and evidently
anticipated mischief. After in vain trying to make me understand
him, he suddenly jumped from behind his bar, and seizing me by the
shoulder without ceremony, thrust me into the street. I found the
two officers looking anxiously for me when I got out, and not quite
easy at my disappearance. I however excused myself by pleading
the heat of the day, and my anxiety to taste the good wines of
Lisbon, and together we left the town, with our purchases, and
reached the camp.
Next morning Captain Leech again entered my tent, and desired me
to pick out three good workmen from the company, take them into
the town, and seek out a shoemaker's shop as near the camp as
possible.
"You must get leave to work in the first shop you can find," he said,
"as we have a long march before us, and many of the men without
shoes to their feet."
Accordingly, we carried with us three small sacks filled with old boots
and shoes, and entering Lisbon, went into the first, shoemaker's
shop we saw. Here I endeavoured in vain to make myself
understood for some time. There was a master shoemaker at work
and three men. They did not seem to like our intrusion, and looked
very sulky, asking us various questions, which I could not
understand; the only words I could at all comprehend being "Bonos
Irelandos, Brutu Englisa." I thought, considering we had come so far
to fight their battles for them, that this was the north side of civil; so
I signed to the men, and, by way of explanation of our wishes, and
in order to cut the matter short, they emptied the three sacksful of
boots and shoes upon the floor. We now explained what we would
be at; the boots and shoes of the Rifles spoke for themselves, and,
seating ourselves, we commenced work forthwith.
In this way we continued employed whilst the army lay near Lisbon,
every morning coming in to work, and returning to the camp every
night to sleep.
After we had been there several days, our landlord's family had the
curiosity to come occasionally and take a peep at us. My companions
were noisy, good-tempered, jolly fellows, and usually sang all the
time they hammered and strapped. The mistress of the house,
seeing I was the head man, occasionally came and sat down beside
me as I worked, bringing her daughter, a very handsome dark-eyed
Spanish girl, and as a matter of course I fell in love.
We soon became better acquainted, and the mother, one evening,
after having sat and chattered to me, serving me with wine, and
other good things, on my rising to leave the shop, made a signal for
me to follow her. She had managed to pick up a little English, and I
knew a few words of the Spanish language, so that we could pretty
well comprehend each other's meaning; and after leading me into
their sitting-room, she brought her handsome daughter, and, without
more circumstance, offered her to me for a wife. The offer was a
tempting one; but the conditions of the marriage made it impossible
for me to comply, since I was to change my religion, and desert my
colours. The old dame proposed to conceal me effectually when the
army marched; after which I was to live like a gentleman, with the
handsome Maria for a wife.
It was hard to refuse so tempting an offer, with the pretty Maria
endeavouring to back her mother's proposal. I, however, made them
understand that nothing would tempt me to desert; and, promising
to try and get my discharge when I returned to England, protested I
would then return and marry Maria.
Soon after this the army marched for Spain; the Rifles paraded in
the very street where the shop I had so long worked at was
situated, and I saw Maria at the window. As our bugles struck up,
she waved her handkerchief; I returned the salute, and in half an
hour had forgotten all about her. So much for a soldier's love. Our
marches were now long and fatiguing. I do not know how many
miles we traversed ere we reached Almeida, which I was told was
the last town in Portugal: some of my companions said we had come
five hundred miles since we left Lisbon.
We now passed to the left, and bade adieu to Portugal for ever. We
had fought and conquered, and felt elated accordingly. Spain was
before us, and every man in the Rifles seemed only anxious to get a
rap at the French again. On and on we toiled, till we reached
Salamanca. I love to remember the appearance of that army, as we
moved along at this time. It was a glorious sight to see our colours
spread in these fields. The men seemed invincible; nothing, I
thought, could have beaten them. We had some of as desperate
fellows in the Rifles alone as had ever toiled under the burning sun
of an enemy's country in any age; but I lived to see hardship and toil
lay hundreds of them low, before a few weeks were over our heads.
At Salamanca we stayed seven or eight days, and during this time
the shoemakers were again wanted, and I worked with my men
incessantly during their short halt.
Our marches were now still more arduous; fourteen leagues a-day, I
have heard the men say, we accomplished before we halted; and
many of us were found out, and floored in the road. It became every
one for himself. The load we carried was too great, and we
staggered on, looking neither to the right nor the left. If a man
dropped, he found it no easy matter to get up again, unless his
companion assisted him, and many died of fatigue. As for myself, I
was nearly floored by this march; and on reaching a town one night,
which I think was called Zamora, I fell at the entrance of the first
street we came to; the sight left my eyes, my brain reeled, and I
came down like a dead man. When I recovered my senses, I
remember that I crawled into a door I found open, and, being too ill
to rise, lay for some time in the passage unregarded by the
inhabitants.
After I had left the house I have alluded to in the account of the
battle of Roliça, I walked a few paces onwards, when I saw some of
the Rifles lying about and resting. I laid myself down amongst them,
for I felt fatigued. A great many of the French skirmishers were lying
dead just about this spot. I recollect that they had long white frock-
coats on, with the eagle in front of their caps. This was one of the
places from which they had greatly annoyed us; and, to judge from
the appearance of the dead and wounded strewed around, we had
returned the compliment pretty handsomely. I lay upon my back,
and, resting upon my knapsack, examined the enemy in the
distance. Their lines were about a couple of miles off: here they
remained stationary, I should think, until near sunset, when they
began to vanish, beating towards Vimiero, where we had at them
again. Whilst I lay watching them, I observed a dead man directly
opposite to me whose singular appearance had not at first caught
my eye. He was lying on his side amongst some burnt-up bushes;
and whether the heat of the firing here had set these bushes on fire,
or from whatever cause they had been ignited, I cannot take upon
me to say; but certain it is (for several of my companions saw it as
well as myself, and cracked many a joke upon the poor fellow's
appearance,) that this man, whom we guessed to have been French,
was as completely roasted as if he had been spitted before a good
kitchen-fire. He was burnt quite brown, every stitch of clothes was
singed off, and he was drawn all up like a dried frog. I called the
attention of one or two men near me, and we examined him, turning
him about with our rifles with no little curiosity. I remember now,
with some surprise, that the miserable fate of this poor fellow called
forth from us very little sympathy, but seemed only to be a subject
of mirth.

CHAPTER VIII.
A gallant fop—An ill-humoured recruit—The military agriculturist
and the gentleman farmer—Death or glory—The Duke at
Vimiero—Picking off the enemy—The brothers Hart.

I remember there was an officer, named, I think, Cardo, with the

Rifles. He was a great beau; but although rather effeminate and
ladylike in manners, so much so as to be remarked by the whole
regiment at that time, yet he was found to be a most gallant officer
when we were engaged with the enemy in the field.
He was killed whilst fighting bravely in the Pyrenees; and amongst
other jewellery he wore, he had a ring on his finger worth one
hundred and fifty guineas.
As he lay dead on the field, one of our Riflemen, named Orr,
observed the sparkling gem, and immediately resolved to make prize
of it. The ring, however, was so firmly fixed that Orr could not draw
it from the finger, and whipping out his knife cut the finger off by the
joint. After the battle, Orr offered the ring for sale amongst the
officers, and, on inquiry, the manner in which he had obtained it
transpired. Orr was in consequence tried by court-martial, and
sentenced to receive five hundred lashes, which sentence was
carried into execution.
A youth joined the Rifles soon after I myself put on the green jacket,
whose name was Medley. He was but a small chap, being under the
standard one inch;[2] but our officers thought he promised fair to
become a tall fellow, and he was, accordingly, not rejected. Medley
did not deceive them; for, on the day he first joined the Rifles, he
was five feet one inch in height, and on the day he was killed, at
Barrossa, he was exactly six feet one. He was celebrated for being
the greatest grumbler, the greatest eater, and the most quarrelsome
fellow in the whole corps. I remember he cut a most desperate
figure in the retreat to Corunna; for there he had enough to bear
both of fatigue and hunger; and a very little of either of these
disagreeables would make him extremely bad company at any time.
It was dangerous, too, to bid him hold his tongue sometimes; for he
had picked up so amongst us since he was only five feet one, and
grown so bony as well as tall, that he would challenge and thrash
any man in the corps. Corunna, however, though it could not stop
his growling, took the desire of boxing quite out of him; and he
sprawled, scrambled, and swore, till he somehow got through that
business. If General Craufurd could have heard but the twentieth
part of what I heard him utter about him on that retreat, I think he
would have cut Medley in half. He was, as I said, a capital feeder;
and his own allowance was not half enough to satisfy his cravings,
so that he often got some of his comrades to help him out with a
portion of theirs. He was my comrade for about two years; and, as I
was a shoemaker, I often had food to give him; indeed it was highly
necessary either to give him what I had for my own allowance, or
find some provision elsewhere, for he was the most cross-grained
fellow, if his belly was not filled, that we ever had amongst us. He
was killed at Barrossa, as I said, and he carried his ill-humour with
him to the very last hour of his life; for, being knocked over by a
musket-ball in the thigh, he was spoken to as he lay by some of his
comrades, who, asking if they should assist him, and carry him to
the rear, he told them to "Go and be d—d!" and, bidding them mind
their own business, abused them till they passed on and left him. I
was told this last anecdote of him by the very men who had spoken
to him, and got this blessing as he lay.
We had another tall fellow in the four companies of Rifles who were
in that retreat. His name was Thomas Higgins; he was six feet one
and a half, and quite as lank and bony as Medley. He also was an ill-
tempered fellow, but nothing to compare with him either in eating or
grumbling. The tall men, I have often observed, bore fatigue much
worse than the short ones; and Higgins, amongst others of the big
'uns, was dreadfully put to it to keep on. We lost him entirely when
about half through this business, I remember; for, during a short halt
of about ten minutes he was reprimanded by one of our officers for
the slovenly state of his clothing and accoutrements; his dress
almost dropping from his lower limbs, and his knapsack hanging by
a strap or two down about his waist. Higgins did not take it at all
kind being quarrelled with at such a time, and, uttering sundry
impertinences, desired to know if they were ever to be allowed to
halt any more, adding that he did not see very well how he was to
be very smart after what he had already gone through. The officer
spoke to one of the sergeants upon this, and bid him remember, if
they got to their journey's end, to give Higgins an extra guard for his
behaviour. "Oh! then, d—n me," says Higgins, "if ever I take it!" and,
turning about, as we all moved on at the word to march, he
marched off in the contrary direction, and we never either saw or
heard of him from that hour; and it was supposed afterwards,
amongst us, that he had either perished alone in the night, or joined
the French, who were at our heels. These were the two tallest men
in the four companies of Rifles; and both were in the company I
belonged to. Higgins was the right hand, and Medley the left hand
man.
THE YORKSHIRE FARMER.
It was about the year 1807 or 8, that a man volunteered from the
Nottingham Militia into the Rifles. After receiving the half of his
bounty, he thought that was quite as much as would serve him of
the Rifle regiment, and so he declined to serve them in return, and
accordingly made off, without joining them at all at that time. Four
years afterwards he was discovered by the very sergeant of the
Nottingham Militia who belonged to his own company when he
volunteered from them into our corps. This same sergeant was then
himself recruiting, and fell in with his former comrade in some town,
of which I forget the name; but it was in Yorkshire. The man (whose
name, also, I have forgotten now,) was then grown very fat, and
was, likewise, as much altered in dress as in condition, being clad in
the habiliments of a respectable and comfortable farmer of that
delightful county. The sergeant, however, had a sharp eye, and
penetrated both through the disguise of his then calling, and also
even his portly look failed in throwing him off the scent. In fact, he
went warily to work, made his inquiries, compared his notes, allowed
for the time and circumstances, and, notwithstanding the
respectability and reputed worth of our farmer, arrested him
forthwith as a deserter from the Ninety-fifth. From Yorkshire he was
marched a prisoner to Hythe, in Kent; and I remember seeing him
brought in, dressed as he was apprehended, and handcuffed, and
guarded by a corporal and three or four men. He was, as I said, clad
in his farmer's dress, and that it was which made myself and others
(who happened to be out) more especially regard him; for, although
it was no great sight at that time to see a deserter brought along,
yet it was not often we beheld one so apparently well off and
respectable looking in such a situation. In fact, the Yorkshire farmer
made a great talk amongst us; and we pitied him much. No man in
his present circumstances could, I should think, feel more acutely,
and he dwindled perceptibly in bulk every day, till he was brought to
trial. During his confinement he had written to the colonel of the
regiment, offering him sixty pounds to let him off; but I believe he
never at that time got any reply to his offer, and, being tried, was
sentenced to receive seven hundred lashes. When he was brought
into the hollow square to receive his punishment, I remember the
anxiety amongst us was twice as great as on an ordinary occasion of
the sort. He did not seem a man who was afraid of the lash, as
regarded the pain of its infliction, but the shame of it (considering
the situation he had attained to) was apparently the thing that hurt
him most. Even now, although fallen away, he was a jolly and portly-
looking man, though his flesh seemed to hang about him from the
quickness he had been reduced in bulk by long marches, and anxiety
of mind. He addressed a few words to the colonel in a firm and
manly tone, and begged him to consider his situation and
circumstances, and that he was the husband of a respectable
woman, and father of several children; but, however, it was not
possible for the colonel to forgive him at that time, and he was
ordered to be quick and prepare. The farmer, accordingly, stripped,
and was tied up. The colonel addressed him, and referred to the
offer he had made him when in confinement, which, he told him,
had much aggravated his crime, as supposing him (the colonel)
capable of selling his honour for sixty pounds. So the farmer
received his seven hundred lashes that day, and never uttered a
word of complaint during the infliction, except that, as he sometimes
turned his head, and looked after the can of water, he would say,
"Oh! poor Tom! poor Tom! I little thought ever to come to this!" I
remember, after four hundred, the colonel asked him if he would
sign his banishment, telling him it was to send him to another
regiment, which was in foreign parts; but the farmer refused to do
so, and the punishment went on. I recollect, too, that the doctor
desired the drummer to lay the lash on the other shoulder, and the
farmer received the whole sentence, as he well deserved. In a week
or more he was to be seen walking in the barrack-square; but he
avoided the society of the men, and in about two or three days
afterwards, he was missing altogether, having taken an opportunity
to escape; and we never again either heard of, or saw, the Yorkshire
farmer.
There was another agriculturist who, I remember, was in the Rifles
with me. He was the eldest son of a gentleman-farmer, who resided
in Yorkshire, and as handsome a youth as I think I ever beheld; but
he was one of the wildest chaps, perhaps, in the whole county, and,
although he was not above four or five-and-twenty, his parents had
found it out to their cost. In one of his sprees, happening to fall in
with Sergeant Sugden of our corps, nothing would content him but
he must enlist. Sugden, you may easily conceive, was not averse to
indulge such a "perspiring" hero, and very soon had him for a
recruit. Although there must have been considerable difference in
the style of life amongst us to what he had been used to, yet he
appeared nowise displeased with, the change. To be sure, he was
rather too lively a bird at times, and, having plenty of money,
occasionally got himself into trouble, but nothing particularly
disagreeable happened, and altogether he was very much liked in
the corps, in which he went by the name of "The Gentleman
Farmer." Just before a detachment of the Rifles started for Portugal,
a gentleman rode into the barrack-square, and inquired of some of
the men for this young spark, whose name I cannot now remember.
The meeting was not a very amicable one, for the new-comer was
the gentleman-farmer's brother, who upbraided him with his conduct
in enlisting, and told of the anxiety and sorrow this new freak had
caused at home. After they had somewhat mollified their quarrel,
they sought an interview with our commanding-officer; and the
brother immediately, in the name of the parents, offered any
reasonable sum the colonel chose to name, so he would but grant
the gentleman-farmer a discharge. The colonel, however, was not
willing to lose him, and refused at that time to grant the request.
"He is a wild and untamed spirit," he said; "and as he is just now
under orders for foreign service, he had better go; let him have a
year of that fun; it will do his complaint good; and, if he lives, we
shall see him, I hope, return an improved man."
The new-comer, therefore, was fain to put up with this answer, and
next morning returned home to his parents, apparently much cut up
and disappointed at his ill success. Accordingly the gentleman-
farmer embarked for Portugal, and was soon after witness of a
wilder scene of discord and horror than, I dare say, even his hair-
brained ideas quite contemplated when he enlisted for a soldier; in
short, he took his first lesson of actual warfare at the siege of
Badajoz, and, entering with heart and soul into the breach, his head
was dashed into a hundred pieces by a cannon ball.
Thomas Mayberry was a man well known at that time in the Rifles.
He was a sergeant in my day, and was much thought of by our
officers as a very active and useful non-commissioned officer, being
considered, up to the time of his committing the slight mistake I
shall have to tell of, one of the most honest men in the army. With
the men he was not altogether so well liked, as he was considered
rather too blusterous and tyrannical. Whilst in the town of Hythe, he
got the fingering of about two hundred pounds, for the purpose of
paying for necessaries purchased for the men of his company, and
which two hundred pounds he had, in a very short space of time,
managed to make away with, and lose in the society of a party of
gamblers, who at that time infested the town of Hythe. Captain Hart,
who then commanded the company Mayberry belonged to, was not
a little thunderstruck, some little time after, at finding that the
several tradesmen who furnished the articles for the men had never
been settled with, and, sending for Mayberry, discovered the
delinquency. Mayberry was a prisoner in a moment; and Captain
Hart was as much astonished as if his own father had committed a
fraud, so well and so much was Mayberry thought of. He was
brought to court-martial, together with two other men, whom he
had seduced to become partners in his gambling transactions; and,
on the inquiry, it was further discovered that he had been in the
habit of cheating the men of his company out of a farthing a-week
each for the last ten months. That was, perhaps, the worst thing
against him. He was sentenced to receive seven hundred lashes.
Corporal Morrisson and Patrick Divine, his two participators in this
roguery, got, I remember, the former three, and the latter one
hundred, awarded to them.
When the square was formed for punishment, and the three were
brought out, it was necessary to check the men of the regiment, or
they would have hooted and hissed them on the parade. I recollect,
also, that there was a civilian, of the name of Gilbert, whom
Mayberry had defrauded, and he had inquired the time of his
punishment, and was present in the rear during the infliction, having
expressed to some of Mayberry's companions that he was content to
lose the money, so that he saw the fellow well flogged:—a pretty
good proof that, when their own interests are nearly concerned,
your civilian has no objection to even be an eye-witness of the
infliction of the lash, about which there has lately been such an
outcry. It is, indeed, no uncommon thing, now-a-days, to see a man
who has committed crimes, which have caused him to receive the
execrations of his sometime companions in arms, as he is being
drummed out of the corps, received by a host of folks without the
barrack-gates, and taken to their bosoms as an object of
commiseration.
When Mayberry was tied up, he was offered, as was then customary,
the option of banishment; but he refused it, notwithstanding
considerable entreaty was made to him by his two comrades to
accept it, as, by so doing, they thought they all would escape the
lash. However, Mayberry decided to take the seven hundred, and
bore the sentence without a murmur. Not so the two others:
Morrisson screamed and struggled so much, that he capsized the
triangle, and all came sprawling together, so that he was obliged to
be held by a man at each side. Divine came last. He was rather an
effeminate-looking man; and the colonel rode round, and told him
he lamented being obliged to break so fair a skin; but he must do
his duty. However, as he had borne a good character, and was not so
much to blame as the other two, he let him down after five-and-
twenty.
Mayberry after this was much scouted by his fellow-soldiers, and
also ill-thought of by the officers; and, on a detachment being sent
to Portugal, he volunteered for the expedition. Captain Hart,
however, would fain have declined taking him, as he had so bad an
opinion of him after this affair; but Mayberry shewed himself so
desirous of going, that at last he consented, and took him. At the
siege of Badajoz, Mayberry wiped off, in a measure, all his former ill
conduct. He was seen by Captain Hart to behave so bravely in the
breach, that he commended him on the spot.
"Well done, Mayberry!" said he; "you have this day done enough to
obliterate your disgrace; and, if we live, I will endeavour to restore
you to your former rank. Go now to the rear; you have done enough
for one day." Mayberry, however, refused to retire, although covered
with wounds; for he was known to have killed seven with his own
hand, with his rifle-sword-bayonet.
"No going to the rear for me," he said. "I'll restore myself to my
comrades' opinion, or make a finish of myself altogether."
He accordingly continued in the front of all, till at last he was seen to
be cut down, in the clear light of the fire-balls, by a tremendous
sword-cut, which cleft his skull almost in twain. Morrisson, I heard,
also died at that siege. Divine returned safe home, and died of
fatigue at Fermoy.
It has been said, I have heard, by officers of high rank in the army
of the Peninsula, that there never were such a set of devil-may-care
fellows, and so completely up to their business, as the 95th. It would
be invidious to make a distinction, or talk of any one regiment being
better, or more serviceable, than another; but the Rifles were
generally in the mess before the others began, and also the last to
leave off. It was their business to be so; and if they did their work
well, so did every other British corps engaged in that country, at
least I never either heard or saw to the contrary. There was,
perhaps, as intelligent and talented a set of men amongst us, as
ever carried a weapon in any country. They seemed at times, to
need but a glance at what was going on to know all about its "why
and wherefore." I remember seeing the Duke of Wellington during
the battle of Vimiero; and in these days, when so much anxiety is
displayed to catch even a glance of that great man's figure as he
gallops along the streets of London, it seems gratifying to me to
recollect seeing him in his proper element, "the raging and bloody
field," and I have frequently taxed my mind to remember each
action and look I caught of him at that time.
I remember seeing the great Duke take his hat off in the field of
Vimiero, and methinks it is something to have seen that wonderful
man even do so common-place a thing as lift his hat to another
officer in the battle-field. We were generally enveloped in smoke and
fire, and sometimes unable to distinguish or make remarks upon
what was going on around, whilst we blazed away at our opponents;
but occasionally we found time to make our comments upon the
game we were playing. Two or three fellows near me were observing
what was going on just in the rear, and I heard one man remark,
"Here comes Sir Arthur and his staff;" upon which I also looked
back, and caught sight of him just meeting with two other officers of
high rank. They all uncovered as they met, and I saw the Duke, as I
said, (then Sir Arthur Wellesley) take off his hat and bow to the
other two. The names of the new-comers, however they were learnt,
whether from some of the men who had before seen them, or
picked up on the instant from an officer, seemed to be well known,
as well as the business they were engaged in talking of; for it ran
along the line from one to the other that Sir Hugh Dalrymple and Sir
Harry Burrard were about to take the command, instead of Sir
Arthur Wellesley, a circumstance which, of course, could only be a
random guess amongst these fellows at the moment.
The intelligence of these men was indeed very great, and I could
relate instances of their recklessness and management which would
amuse the reader much. I remember a fellow, named Jackman,
getting close up to the walls at Flushing, and working a hole in the
earth with his sword, into which he laid himself, and remained there
alone, spite of all the efforts of the enemy and their various missiles
to dislodge him. He was known, thus earthed, to have killed, with
the utmost coolness and deliberation, eleven of the French
artillerymen, as they worked at their guns. As fast as they relieved
each fallen comrade did Jackman pick them off; after which he took
to his heels, and got safe back to his comrades.
There were three brothers in the Rifles, named Hart,—John, Mike,
and Peter,—and three more perfectly reckless fellows, perhaps,
never existed. Nothing ever escaped their notice; and they would
create the greatest fun and laughter, even when advancing under
the hottest fire of the enemy, and their comrades being shot down
beside them. I remember Lieutenant Molloy, who was himself as fine
a "soldier as ever stepped, and as full of life in the midst of death"
as these Harts, being obliged to check them at Vimiero. "D—n you!"
he said to them, "keep back, and get under cover. Do you think you
are fighting here with your fists, that you are running into the teeth
of the French?"
I never saw those three men, to appearance, the least worse for
hard work during the time we remained in Portugal. They could run
like deer, and were indeed formed by Nature and disposition for the
hardships, difficulties, and privations of the sort of life we then led.
They were, however, all three pretty well done up during the retreat
to Corunna; though, even in that dreadful business, their light-
heartedness and attempts at fun served to keep up the spirits of
many a man, who would else have been broken-hearted before the
English shipping appeared in sight. They even carried their
pleasantry on that occasion so far as to make a jest of their own
appearance, and the miserable plight of the whole turn-out, as we
disembarked upon the beach at Portsmouth. One of them even went
so far as to observe, "that we looked more like the rakings of h—
than the fragments of an army!"
Nothing, indeed, but that grave of battalions, that unwholesome fen,
Flushing, could have broken the spirits of three such soldiers as
John, Mike, and Peter Hart. A few weeks, however, of that country
sufficed to quiet them for evermore. One, I remember, died; and the
other two, although they lived to return, were never worth a rush
afterwards, but, like myself, remained living examples of what
climate can bring even a constitution and body framed as if of iron
to.
Nothing, I suppose, could exceed the dreadful appearance we cut on
the occasion of the disembarkation from Corunna; and the
inhabitants of Portsmouth, who had assembled in some numbers to
see us land, were horror-stricken with the sight of their countrymen
and relatives returning to England in such a ghastly state; whilst the
three Harts, with feet swathed in bloody rags, clothing that hardly
covered their nakedness, accoutrements in shreds, beards covering
their faces, eyes dimmed with toil, (for some were even blind,) arms
nearly useless to those who had them left, the rifles being encrusted
with rust, and the swords glued to the scabbard;—these three
brothers, I say (for I heard them myself,) as they hobbled up the
beach, were making all sorts of remarks, and cracking their jokes
upon the misery of our situation, and the appearance they
themselves cut.
I recollect seeing at this time an affecting instance of female
affection displayed. One of our officers, whose name I will not
mention, and who was much beloved by us all, observed his wife
waiting for him on the beach, as he disembarked from the boat. He
met her as she rushed into the sea to embrace him, and they were
locked in each others' arms before they touched the dry land.

FOOTNOTES:
[2] The standard at that time, when men were quickly used up,
was five feet two with us.

CHAPTER IX.
The North Mayo militiaman—Chances of warfare—Marshal
Beresford—Eight hundred for nothing—Moneymaking.

Whilst we lay near Cork we were joined by one Richard Pullen,

amongst others; he had exchanged from the English militia into the
Irish, and volunteered to us Rifles from the North Mayo. He brought
with him little else to boast of but his wife and his two children,
Charles and Susan. Charles was a mischievous boy of about twelve,
and Susan was a pretty little lass, of about fourteen years of age. I
remember they all went with us to Copenhagen, and got through
that expedition pretty well. That affair suited a man of Pullen's
description, for he didn't like too much service; and we soon found
he was rather a shy cock. "None of your North Mayho, here, Master
Pullen!" used to be constantly flung in his teeth, when he was
lagging behind on the march. In 1808 he was again wanted, when
our four companies went to Portugal; but Pullen begged off, on
account of the wife and the two children, Charles and Susan. Often
had he to endure the taunt again, "None of your North Mayho here,
Master Pullen!" till we were fairly away from Hythe.
After we had knocked the frogs out of Portugal, marching on
Sahagun, we fell in with the army under Sir John Moore, and,
amongst the Rifles that came with them fresh from England, we
found Pullen and his wife, with their two children, Charles and
Susan. I remember that the meeting with Pullen caused no small fun
amongst us; and North Mayho was again the bye-word for a few
days. Nothing, I thought at that time, could tame down the high
spirits and thoughtlessness of the British soldier. Alas! I lived to see
that I was mistaken; and, indeed, saw them pretty well tamed
before many days more were over our heads! I remember remarking
that Pullen (even on the first day of the retreat to Corunna) looked
very chap-fallen and seedy; and he was beginning even then to
complain that he could not stand much more. The wife and children,
too, were dropping behind. They all thought, poor souls! that when
night came on they were, of course, to be billeted; but the open
world was now their only refuge; and no allowance to stop or lie
down, even on the bare heath, at that time. I saw Pullen again on
the third or fourth day; neither the wife nor children were then with
him, nor could he tell where they were; he could only answer for
himself, and expected to drop dead, he said, every step. That's all I
saw of Pullen, and his wife and children, on the retreat, or even
thought of them; for I had enough to do to keep my own strength
up. When we landed at Portsmouth, both myself and others (to our
no small surprise), saw Pullen once more; and much we wondered
at the sight of him, when so many better and stronger soldiers had
died before half of that retreat was accomplished. We had not even
then spirits enough left to jeer him about North Mayho; and, to add
to the dejection of poor Pullen, we found that he had left behind
him, and knew nothing of the fate of either his wife or his children,
Charles and Susan. As the men continued to disembark, however,
there was Pullen inquiring anxiously of every one for some tidings of
them. None, however, could he get. At last he saw his wife coming
up the beach, and hobbled off to meet her, each at the same
moment inquiring for the children, Charles and Susan. He trusted
they were with the wife; and she hoped they were with the
husband; and both sat down upon the beach, and cried in concert.
All our men thought it useless of them to continue their inquiries;
but they never failed to ask after their offspring of every fresh face
they fell in with, who had been in that retreat. In about a fortnight's
time, not satisfied, they advertised Charles and Susan in the public
newspapers; and we all laughed at the very idea of their ever finding
them again, and told them they might have spared the money. To
our no small surprise, however, the artillery at Plymouth answered
their advertisement, stating that a little girl had been heard
screaming upon the mountains in Spain by them in the night, and
that they had taken care of her as well as they could, and had her
then with them. The description answering, the girl was forwarded
to Hythe; and Pullen and his wife once more embraced their
daughter Susan.
Meanwhile, no tidings came of the boy; and Pullen died at
Walcheren, with many a gallant soldier for his fellow-victim in that
dreadful country. The wife had confessed long before that the child
she had given birth to after the retreat, she had every reason to
believe, was a Frenchman by the father's side; for she related her
adventures to many of us at that time, and told, amongst other
things, that she and other women, having taken refuge in a barn,
were there overtaken by the French in the night, and treated by
those gentlemen in a very unceremonious manner.
It is easy to suppose that Mrs. Pullen had no great wish to go on
service again, and much did she endeavour to persuade Pullen to
evade it too; but, the whole regiment being under orders for
Walcheren, Pullen could not escape the chance. At last, however, he
tried to excuse himself by tampering with his eyes, which he made
sore by putting snuff in them. He was, however, detected, disgraced,
and, sailing with the expedition, died, as I before said, at Walcheren.
After his death, Mrs. Pullen and her daughter were sent to their
parish, which was in Warwickshire; and, after she had left us some
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