CHAPTER XVIII
The French had taken possession also of the battery of Los Martires.That same afternoon they were masters of the ruins of Santa Engraciaand the convent of Trinitarios. Is it conceivable that the defence ofone plaza continued after all that surrounded it was taken? No, itis not conceivable; nor in all military prevision has it ever beensupposed that after the enemy had gained the walls by irresistiblesuperiority of material strength, the houses would offer new linesof defence improvised on the initiative of every citizen. It is notconceivable that one house taken, a veritable siege must necessarilybe organized to take the next one, employing the spade, the mine, thebayonet,--devising an ingenious stratagem against a partition wall. Itis not conceivable that one part of a pavement being taken, it wouldbe necessary to pass opposite to it to put into execution the theoriesof Vauban, and that to cross a gutter it would be necessary to maketrenches, zig-zags, and covered ways.
The French generals put their hands to their brows, saying, "This isnot like anything that we have ever seen. In the glorious annals of theempire one finds many passages like this: 'We have entered Spandau.To-morrow we shall be in Berlin.' That which had not yet been writtenwas this: 'After two days and two nights of fighting, we have takenhouse No. 1 in the Calle de Pabostre. We do not know when we shall beable to take No. 2.'"
We had no time for rest. The two cannons that raked the Calle dePabostre and the angle of the Puerta Quemada were left entirely withoutmen. Some of us ran to serve them, and the rest occupied houses inthe Calle de Palomar. The French stopped firing against the buildingswhich had been abandoned, repairing them and occupying them as rapidlyas they could. They stopped up holes with beams, gravel, and sacks ofwool. As they could not traverse without risk the space between theirnew quarters and the crumbling walls, they commenced to open a ditchand zig-zag from the Molino of the city to the house which we hadoccupied, and of which now only the lowest story offered any lodgment.We knew that when once masters of that house they would try, bytearing down partition walls, to gain possession of the whole block. Inorder to prevent this, the troops which we could spare were distributedthrough all the buildings in danger of such attack. At the same timeour troops were raising barricades at the entrances of the streets,availing themselves of the rubbish and fragments in their work. Wetoiled with frenzied ardor in these various tasks. The fighting wasleast difficult of all. From inside the houses we threw down overthe balconies all the furniture and movables. We carried the woundedoutside, leaving the dead to the same fate as the buildings. Indeed,the only funeral honors that we could pay them was to leave them wherethey would not be disturbed. The French worked also to gain SantaMonica, the convent situated in a line with Las Tenerias, a little tothe north of the Calle de Pabostre; but its walls offered a strongresistance, and it was not as easy to take as the fragile houses whichthe booming of the cannon caused to tremble. The volunteers of Huescadefended it vigorously; and, after repeated attacks, the besiegersleft the assault for another day. Having gained possession only of afew houses, they remained in them when night came, like rabbits in awarren. Woe to the head that appeared at a window! The neighboringwalls, the roofs, the skylights were filled with attentive eyes thatsaw the least carelessness of a French soldier, and guns were ready forhim.
When night came, we began to make holes in the partition walls inorder to open communication between all the houses in the same block.In spite of the incessant noise of the cannon, we could hear withinthe buildings the picks of the enemy occupied in the same sort of workas ourselves. As the architecture was fragile, and almost all thepartition walls were of earth, we had in a short time opened passagesbetween many houses.
About ten o'clock at night, we found ourselves in one which we knewmust be very near that of Manuela Sancho, when we heard, throughunknown conduits, through cellars and subterranean passages, a soundwhich we realized must be the voices of the enemy. A terrified womancame up a ladder and told us that the French were opening a gap in thewall of the room below. We descended instantly. We were not yet all inthe cold, narrow, dark place, when at its mouth a gun was fired at us,and one of our companions was slightly wounded in the shoulder.
By the dim light we perceived several figures that forced their wayinto the room, and, advancing, fired, while others came behind. At thenoise of gunshots, our friends hurried down to us, and we penetratedboldly into the dark place. The enemy did not remain in it, and asswiftly as possible hurried back through the hole they had opened inthe wall, seeking refuge in the place whence they had come. We sentsome balls after them. We were not completely in darkness, as they hada lantern some of whose feeble rays came through the aperture diffusinga reddish light over the theatre of the struggle.
I have never seen anything like it, nor did I ever behold a combatbetween four black walls by the faint light of a lantern that castflickering shadows like spectres around us. The light was prejudicialto the French; for we were on the safe, dark side of the hole, and theywere good targets for us. We shot at them for a short time, and twoof our comrades fell, dead or badly wounded, upon the damp earth. Inspite of this disaster, others came to push the advantage, assaultingthe hole in the wall and penetrating into the enemy's den. But althoughfire had ceased there, it seemed as if the enemy were preparing fora better attack. Suddenly the lantern went out, and we were left inblack darkness. We looked about for the way out, and stumbled againstone another. This state of things, together with the fear of beingattacked by superior forces, or that they would hurl shells into thatsepulchre, made us huddle confusedly into the outer court as soon as wefound the way. We took time, nevertheless, to find our two comrades whohad fallen during the fray; then we went out and shut up the aperturewith stones and rubbish and planks and barrels, whatever came to ourhands in the court-yard. On going up, our commander detailed men indifferent parts of the house, leaving a couple of sentinels in thecourt to listen to the blows of the hostile pick. He sent me out withothers to bring in a little food, of which we were all much in need.
In the street it seemed to us that we had come from a tranquil positioninto a very hell, for now in the dead of night the firing was continuedbetween the houses and the walls. The clearness of the moonlight madeit easy to run from one point to another without stumbling, and thestreets were constantly traversed by bodies of troops and peasants whowere going where, according to the public voice, there was some realdanger. Many, not in the lines, guided by their own instincts, ranhere and there, firing whenever opportunity offered. The bells of allthe churches sounded a mournful call, and at each step we encounteredgroups of women carrying the wounded.
In all directions, especially at the extremities of the streetsthat ended at the walls of Las Tenerias, bodies were seen stackedup in piles, the wounded mingled with those already corpses. Itwas not possible to tell from which mouths came the pitiful voicesthat implored aid. I have never seen such horrible suffering. I wasimpressed more than by the spectacle of the disasters caused by ironand steel, seeing many who were suffering from the epidemic lying onthe doorsteps of the houses, or dragging themselves through the throngin search of a safe place. They were dying every moment without havinga sign of a wound upon them. Their teeth chattered with the dreadfulchill, and they begged for help, holding out their hands because theycould not speak.
In addition to all this, hunger was demoralizing us. We could scarcelystand.
"Where shall we ever find something to eat?" Augustine asked me. "Whois going to see about that?"
"This thing must end soon in one way or the other," I answered;"either the city will surrender, or we shall all perish."
At last, near the Coso, we met some of the commissary who were dealingout rations. We took ours eagerly, taking also all that we could carryfor our comrades. They received it with a great racket, and a sort ofjoviality inappropriate to the circumstances. But the Spanish soldieris and always has been like that. While they were eating some crusts ofbread as hard as cobble-stones, the unanimous opinion spread through
the battalion that Saragossa never would surrender, and never shouldsurrender.
It was midnight when the firing dwindled down. The French had notconquered a hand's breadth of earth more than the houses they hadoccupied at sunset, although they were not to be driven out of thequarters they had taken. This was left for the days that followed.When the influential men of the city, the Montorias, the Ceresos, theSases, the Salameros, and the San Clementes were returning to LasMonicas, the scene that night of great prodigies of valor, they showedsuch tremendous courage and uttered such contempt of the enemy that itroused the spirits of all who saw and heard them.
"Little has been accomplished to-night," said Montoria. "Our men havebeen a bit remiss. It is true that it was not possible to drive themall out, nor ought we to have come out into the open, though the Frenchattacked us with little energy. I have seen a few defeats, nothing ofconsequence. The nuns have beaten up plenty of oil with wine, and nowit is only a question of binding up a few wounds. If there were time,it would be well to bury the dead in this heap, but there will be morepresently. The epidemic is getting hold of more men. They need rubbing.Plenty of rubbing is what I believe in. For the present, they can verywell go without broth. Broth is an unpleasant beverage. I would givethem a dose of spirits. In a little while they would be able to handlea gun. Well, sirs, the fiesta appears to be over for to-night. Let ustake a nap for half an hour, and to-morrow,--to-morrow, I have a notionthat the French will make a formal attack upon us."
He turned to his son, who had come up with me, and cried out,--
"Oh, my Augustine, I have been asking for you, because in such a battleas to-day it happens that some must die. Are you wounded? You havenothing the matter? Let us see, a little gun-scratch? Ah, a trifle!It strikes me that you have scarcely borne yourself like a Montoria.And you, Araceli, have you lost any legs? Not even that! The two of youhave just come out from some good shelter, I should say. You have noteven turned a hair. It's a bad business. I call you a pair of hens!Go, rest awhile, not more than a hand's shake. If you feel yourselvesattacked by the epidemic, rubbing and plenty of it is the best thing.Well, sirs, we depend upon it that to-morrow these houses will bedefended wall by wall, partition by partition. The same thing willgo on in every part of the city, and in every alcove there will be abattle. Let us go to the Captain-General, and see if Palafox agreeswith us. There is no other way,--either to deliver the city to them, orto dispute each brick as if it were a treasure. We will tire them out.To-day six or eight thousand men have perished. Now let us go and seethat most excellent Se?or Don Jos?. Good-night, boys, and to-morrow tryand manage to shake off your cowardice."
"Let us go and sleep a little," I said to my friend. "Let us come to ahouse where I have seen some mattresses."
"I cannot sleep," said Montoria, walking on along the Coso.
"I know where you are going. We are not permitted to go as far as that,Augustine."
Many men and women were running up and down, back and forth in thebroad avenue. All of a sudden a woman came running swiftly to us andembraced Augustine, speechless, deep emotion choking her.
"Mariquilla, Mariquilla of my heart!" exclaimed Montoria, embracing herjoyously. "How is it that you are here? I was just now going in searchof you."
Mariquilla could not speak, and, without the sustaining arm of herlover, her weak and wavering body would have fallen to the ground.
"Are you ill? What is the matter? Is it true that the bombs havedestroyed your house?"
It was even so, and the young girl's whole aspect showed her greatdistress. Her clothing was that which we saw on her the night before.Her hair was loosened, and we could see burns upon her poor bruisedarms.
"Yes," she said, at last, in a stifled voice. "Our house is gone. Wehave nothing. We have lost everything. This morning, soon after you hadgone, a bomb destroyed the house, then two others fell."
"And your father?"
"My father is there, and will not abandon the ruins of the house. Ihave been looking for you all day, for you to help us. I have beenunder fire. I have been in all the streets of the suburb. I haveentered several houses. I was afraid that you were dead."
Augustine seated himself in a gateway, and, sheltering Mariquilla withhis military cloak, he held her in his arms as one holds a child. Freedthus from her terror, she could talk; and she told us that she had notbeen able to save a single thing. They had scarcely had time to get outof the house. The unhappy girl was trembling with cold, and, putting mycloak over Augustine's, we tried to take her to the house where we wereon duty.
"No," she said, "I must go back to my father. He is wild and desperate,and is uttering blasphemies against God and the saints. I have not beenable to get him away from that which was our house. We are in need offood. The neighbors were not willing to give us anything. If you arenot willing to take me there, I will go alone."
"No, Mariquilla, no. You shall not go there," said Montoria. "We willput you in one of these houses where at least for to-night you will besafe. In the mean time Gabriel shall go in search of your father, andtake him something to eat, and by persuasion or by force will get himaway from there."
Mariquilla insisted upon returning to the Calle de Anton Trillo. But asshe scarcely had strength to move, we took her in our arms to a housein the Calle de los Clavos, where Manuela Sancho was.
Zaragoza. English Page 19