A Despite of Hornets

by Geoffrey Watson

  The noise of the sergeant’s oaths and threats alerted most of them before the sorry group of exhausted men came staggering into sight. It was some little time later that the first of them, doubting the evidence of his eyes, almost unwillingly called out the guard sergeant, who roused the officer of the watch.

  As with most armies or groups of fighting men, something unexpected, something not in the regulations or drill manual, provoked a satisfying period of seeming panic, with loud orders shouted and men rushing in all directions. Even more satisfactory, from Welbeloved’s point of view, was the troop of chasseurs who were roused out by the bugle call and who dashed off into the night. Thirty or so men, with no hope whatsoever of being able to achieve anything before daylight, sent chasing their tails by an officer who wanted to be seen to be doing something, however useless.

  What it did achieve was to pinpoint the building where the cavalry units were billeted, and the stables and shelters where they had put their mounts. This was one of the main buildings in the town, close to the monastery and with an extended and substantial wall all round it, enclosing outbuildings and stables for large numbers of horses and men. Possibly it had been the barracks for the local Spanish militia or similar force before the French took it over.

  The chasseurs had all left through a massive gate set in the middle of a large gatehouse. This gate was now closed and only the small door let into one of the larger units was being used. When the large gates were shut, two sentries were left outside this smaller door and whenever anyone approached and was authorised to enter, they banged on the door with the butt of their muskets until it was opened from within.

  Various plans had been chasing each other through Welbeloved’s head. He wanted to create as much chaos as he could. Disorganisation and disorder out of all proportion to the size of his command, so that the enemy would think that he had many more times the number of men than his actual force. Now he decided on boldness, taking advantage of what he hoped would be an upset in routine caused by the arrival of his previous victims.

  He formed his men into two files of three, explained what he planned to do and marched them up the broad avenue towards the gatehouse. Their greatcoats were almost the same colour as the light infantry ones that they had captured earlier. In the dark and sleet they hunched up inside them as they marched, raising their voices in a moaning complaint about the weather, their duties, anything they had to grouse about, but being careful that only the tone of complaint could be heard, not the language. To the sentries it must have sounded like old sweats anywhere, letting their feelings be known in a manner with which they would themselves be only too familiar.

  As they drew level with the gate and before they could march on past, Welbeloved gave a sharp growl and his men halted while he approached the two sentries, undoing the top buttons of his greatcoat and thrusting his hand inside, as if to produce documents for their inspection. He managed it so naturally that both men came together, their attention entirely on Welbeloved. He watched their mouths open wide in shock, but not uttering a sound. His men had quietly broken ranks and clubbed them insensible as they waited for him to show them what was inside his coat.

  With hardly a pause, he hammered on the door with his rifle butt as he had seen the sentries do. A few seconds while they listened for footsteps on the other side of the gate and the wicket door opened for a face to peer out. Once more there was no sound as a large pair of hands fastened themselves round his throat, cutting off his breath and pulling him outside, where he too was clubbed insensible.

  Moving quickly, they slipped through the door, dragging the three unconscious forms, and all froze while they studied their surroundings. There were doors in the gatehouse; both to the right and the left, but the rooms on the right were dark and silent, while the glimmer of a lantern showed inside on the left. This was most likely where the guardroom had been established.

  The outer door was ajar and they stole like ghosts into the passage beyond, gathering round the door, which had chinks of light escaping from beneath. Welbeloved signed for them to have their rifles ready as he lifted the latch, pushed open the door and stepped inside, backed up by four of his men with guns at the ready.

  Heat and the fug created by sleeping men hit them like a physical force. There was a row of straw mattresses with half-a-dozen men sleeping, awaiting their turn for duty. At a table sat the sergeant in charge, who looked up in amazement at the rifles levelled at his chest and wisely decided to say and do nothing. A few quiet commands and ten minutes later, all the guards were trussed and gagged, including the original three who had been dragged inside.

  Leaving the guardroom and its helpless occupants, Welbeloved and his men assembled outside. Trelawney appeared beside him. “I done as you zaid zur. There be fifty ‘orses in th’ stables over on that zide of th’ yard,” pointing to the left, “an’ th’ buildin’ on th’ other zide be where th’ zojers be sleepin’. Zome o’ they chassers be sleepin’ in th’ stables o’er th’ ‘orses.”

  For a slow-moving man, he had found out a lot in the short time since Welbeloved had entered the guardroom, and he clapped him on the shoulder. “That was well done Trelawney. Now I want yew to set one of yor kegs of powder on the other side of that gate ready to block it. Put the other by the door coming out of the building where most of them are sleeping. Set that fuse for fifteen minutes and the one by the gate for ten minutes later. Understood?”

  He caught the flash of a grin. “Aye zur. Thankee zur.” Then he was gone and Welbeloved called softly to the rest. “I want to get the horses out into the yard, but there are troopers sleeping above them, so let us get them to do the job for us. There’s an outhouse at the far end filled with hay and straw. Masters and Green, get over there and set fire to it. That ought to persuade them to lead the animals out to safety. With luck, Trelawney will have set his fireworks off when they are all out and we’ll have the gates open to give them somewhere to go.”

  Two more of his men heaved on the great wooden gates and got them fully open, just as the outhouse burst into a pyrotechnic display of smoke and flames. They all ran out of the gates and waited, crouched against the wall. Trelawney came ambling out last, looking highly pleased with himself and hopping from one foot to the other as he peered back in anticipation of the explosion.

  Cries of alarm could now be heard and the doors to the stables were thrown open and the first of the horses were led out by men in various stages of undress. The animals themselves were unhappy. They could smell the smoke, and wide, staring eyes and prancing steps showed their concern with the situation. More and more came pouring out, contributing to the general excitement and adding to the fear and disturbance of those already there.

  The doors of the main building flew open as more men came pouring out to help, at which point the first of Trelawney’s kegs exploded with a shattering roar, bringing down a large section of wall and effectively sealing the exit from the dormitory building.

  The effect was immediate. The roar of the blast, the collapse of the wall, the fire in the outbuilding and the screams of the injured caused wild panic among the crowded horses. There was only one way of escape and they surged through it, breaking away from their handlers and trampling them in their desire to get away from the terrifying happenings.

  Not without great difficulty, Welbeloved and his men, shouting and waving at the leaders, succeeded in getting them streaming southwards. Each of them selected a mount from the ones jostling at the entrance, clambered on and galloped along with them, encouraging them to move towards where they had left their own horses and mules. Welbeloved and Trelawney had judged well. Almost as the last of the animals rushed out of the gate, the second keg exploded, bringing down the gatehouse and leaving a wall of rubble, effectively blocking off any pursuit. They thundered out of the town, relying on the herd instinct to keep most of the animals together while they guided them away. No-one interfered with them. They had ample leisure to collect their own mounts and push s
outhwards to make contact with Diego Alvarez. The horses, clothing, boots guns and powder would equip his guerrilla band and make them into a far more effective fighting unit. Combined with the training that Vere had been giving them, the French could expect headaches in this area for as long as the war should last.

  CHAPTER 14

  In the early hours it started to snow in earnest. Thick, heavy flakes which settled quickly onto a white carpet, muffling the sound of horses hooves on the freezing ground and making all the riders huddle into their cloaks as they pressed on southwards, searching for Alvarez and Vere.

  It was falling heavily enough to obliterate the tracks they were making, notwithstanding the number of beasts they were driving. Within ten minutes of their passing, falling and drifting snow would hide all signs, even assuming the French were sufficiently organised to have mounted a pursuit.

  Dawn, when it came, was little lighter than the darkness that had preceded it, but light enough for them to be challenged by an alert picket posted by Vere.

  The horses were received gratefully and enthusiastically by the guerrilleros, adding to the small number that they had captured for themselves in raids initiated by Vere and MacKay over the last few days. Days during which they had harried the French outposts and convoys, forcing the invader to spend more and more of his resources in strengthening his positions and increasing the number of his escorts for all convoys.

  The most important and vital pieces of news however, had just come in as a result of their fortunate interception of another courier. This one had been well guarded by a troop of twenty men, but the enthusiasm of the Spaniards and the deadly accuracy of Vere’s men had prevailed, and a despatch from Napoleon himself had fallen into their hands late the previous night.

  Welbeloved read through the contents of the courier’s sabretache, while he thawed himself out in front of a large camp fire and tackled a hot, smoky chunk of anonymous flesh that Alvarez insisted he share with them for breakfast. The taste wasn’t too bad, but he lost interest in it completely as the import of the despatches began to become clear.

  Bonaparte had only the previous day discovered that the British army was not, as he thought, in full retreat towards Lisbon, but somewhere north of Madrid, and in a position to attack Soult. He was reacting with typical speed and vigour and his orders instructed Soult to press forward until he could make contact with Moore, and then by falling back in front of him, to draw him towards Burgos.

  The eighty thousand strong army from Madrid meanwhile, was already on the move and heading north to strike the British flank, while Marshal Ney had been ordered to abandon his march on Zaragoza and move immediately to the support of Soult.

  Welbeloved could easily make out the exultation in the tone of these despatches, in which Bonaparte was already gloating over the prospect of trapping Sir John and forcing him into an action against more than four times his own strength. There could only be one outcome from such a confrontation. Moore must be warned immediately. If the desperately small British army did not retreat instantly, they would be caught and destroyed.

  The only gleam of hope in the intelligence from all these despatches, was that Bonaparte still had no clear idea of exactly where the British army stood at the present time. He knew from his own spies and captured deserters that it was not retreating to Lisbon and his best guess was that it was near Valladolid. If this was indeed the case, Welbeloved believed they would be caught and crushed between Napoleon and Soult.

  On the other hand, a week had passed since Anstruthers would have reached Sir John with the first captured despatches and he had himself been convinced at the time, that the information contained in those would have made a sortie against Soult irresistible. If such a sortie was now in train, Sir John would undoubtedly be much farther north, preparing for his attack.

  There were so many ifs in this reasoning, but they all had to be considered. If Sir John was indeed much farther north than Napoleon thought, prompt receipt of this news would still enable him to withdraw through the mountains to Vigo and La Coruña, where the Royal Navy would be ready to undertake another rescue act and re-embark the troops.

  Inevitably, the escape route they would be forced to take was the single, incredibly poor road, north-west through the mountains to the sea. At this time of year it would be a terrible journey in arctic conditions, but it was the only possible way of escape, and Sir John would have no other option.

  It was nonetheless an option that Napoleon; brilliant strategist that he was; had taken into account. The final despatch was to Marshal Junot, who was approaching from the north-east. He was instructed to create a small independent command from the forces available to him, and to place General Tasselot in charge of some five thousand infantry, cavalry and artillery. This force was to cross the mountains northwards towards the coast at Santander and march westwards to attack and capture La Coruña before the harassed British could get there in force.

  Welbeloved collected all the papers together and stuffed them back in the sabretache, handing it to Vere. “Yew’ve read all these yorself, George?” Vere nodded. “Aye sir, I only hope Sir John paid no attention to the last lot that Anstruthers took. If he has advanced far in this direction from Salamanca, then his position is desperate. Wherever he is, he’ll be caught. He’ll fight of course, but even if he’s able to withdraw to La Coruña, he’ll be fighting for his life all the way. Any other general but Sir John and I would say we’ve lost an army. No-one else would have a hope of getting them out of this, and I wouldn’t put long odds even on him.”

  They sat gazing into the flames for a while, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Then Welbeloved shrugged. “What ever he does to get his army out of its present predicament is entirely up to him, but he can’t hope to make a decision without the papers in that bag. Yew’re going to have to get those despatches to him as quickly as yew can George. Take the best horse we’ve got and find him. I’ll ask Alvarez if he can spare half-a-dozen men who know the country to go along with yew.

  When yew find him, yew must tell him that I’m acting on the assumption that he will make a fighting retreat to La Coruña. Tell him that I intend doing all I can to harass and delay the force that Tasselot will be taking along the coast to try and catch him in the rear. Junot won’t have seen these orders yet, so we ought to be able to get to the northern pass before Tasselot does. If I can’t think up a deal of mischief by then, I’ll be very surprised.

  When yew’ve delivered yor message, yew’ll know where we’re heading and can try and rejoin. If that ain’t possible, make yor way home with the army or down to Lisbon, whichever gives yew the best chance.”

  He stood up and went to talk to Alvarez, while Vere selected a mount. Six of Alvarez’s best men ran to their own mounts and the cavalcade made ready to gallop west. Vere looked down from his saddle. “I’ll be following on behind you sir. Just as soon as I’ve found Sir John. I don’t know how you’re intending to fight five thousand Frogs, but I ain’t going to be left out of it.”

  He raised his hand in a formal salute. “It’s a demned odd way to spend Christmas, but I hope we can find some suitable gifts for Boney, and that he won’t like ‘em at all.” He set spurs to his mount and cantered swiftly out of sight.

  Welbeloved’s men had been a full day and night without rest, and anxious though he was to be moving, he felt it prudent to allow them a few hours of sleep, before they tackled the next part of their journey. There was also the consideration that the French would be highly active after the blows they had suffered and it would be easier to travel after dark. Pragmatism won and they settled down to sleep until dusk, taking advantage of Spanish hospitality and eating the first hot meal for two days.

  They fed again before starting back, as the sun went down behind the hills. Alvarez and his men crowded round to send them on their way. The example they had had from Vere and MacKay and the almost superstitious awe that was evident whenever they talked about the Brown Hornets, had imbued them with
a determination to fight the invaders in the only way still open to them, and to carry on fighting, no matter what the odds.

  It was going to be another unpleasant night. A bitter, driving rain was turning the thick snow into slush and making the ground treacherous underfoot. Once again they hunched up inside their cloaks and plodded steadily northwards, by-passing Saldaña and easily avoiding the numerous night patrols which the enemy was now mounting. The activities of the Hornets had stirred the French into unwonted activity, but the foul conditions were now in Welbeloved’s favour. None of the enemy had any enthusiasm for chasing a will-o-the-wisp in the dark and icy damp, and thought more of ending their patrol and getting back to the comfort of their billets, than holding any expectation of catching their elusive and infuriating tormentors.

  They made good time and were approaching the track leading into the valley where the monastery stood, when they heard the dull thudding of horse’s hooves on the snow-covered ground. They were moving up-wind and the sound carried clearly to them. it was still heavily overcast, with snow flurries in the air and they moved quickly into cover as the mounted man came level and galloped past.

  He was gone so quickly that they had no chance of making any positive identification, and not wanting to advertise their presence so close to their base, they made no attempt to detain him. Welbeloved moved alongside MacKay. “Could yew tell what he was Sergeant?” MacKay shook his head vigorously. “He was gone too quick to be certain sir, but I can’t think of anyone other than a Frog having such urgent business at this hour of the morning. That and the fact that he was coming from the direction of the monastery, means we could have trouble ahead.”