oOo
That night, all through the watching hours, the picket was manned, each pair remaining alert, held so by the occasional sound of firing from over on the left. The dawn revealed a landscape unchanged, no sign of human life bar one single house on the horizon. The 105th Lights had no cause for complaint, because all had spent a comfortable night and, with the growing daylight, the day became even more pleasant when rations were sent down, consisting of bacon, dried beans, flour and dried Spanish sausage. For the mess of Davey et al, they now had a Spanish cook and the plain army rations were transformed by the old woman into a very tasty and hearty meal. The picket point established by Byford and Pike was regularly changed and all around San Antonio appeared like a relaxed camp during manoeuvres, but tension was in the air, if only evidenced by the frequency that Officers arrived at the look-out points. With the early afternoon Drake ordered a weapons and kit inspection for both Companies, which even Ellis considered to be unnecessary, but it maintained the edge of anxiety, which kept all on the alert. With the arrival of the evening all of Davey’s mess were sat at their ease in the cottage, when Saunders gave voice to his concern.
“Come dawn, we’n relieved and then the 74th comes down, vicious Scotch bastards and after them the 88th, even worse. As if that weren’t bad enough, right over this place there’s goin’ to be a God awful battle.”
He paused to allow his words to sink in and then give strength to his next.
“We can’t leave these two here.”
He pointed to the old couple, now sat by their fire. Davey looked at the pair.
“No. You’re right, but how do we get them up the hill? They stayed here because they’m too old to move.”
Saunders sat forward.
“Same as we got that old dear out of the cellar at Scilla. Remember; the one as chucked a load of Holy Water over our Thomas here, and blessed him with all the Saints. And wanted to adopt him!”
All around grinned and laughed at the memory, except Miles, whose face showed every ounce of his irritation at so embarrassing a subject being brought up, but Saunders was continuing.
“We put her on a chair and carried her out and down to the boat. We could do the same for these two. To get ‘em up top.”
Davey looked again at the pair.
“Fine. But how do we tell ‘em and get them to agree?”
Both looked at Byford, but Davey gave the order.
“That’s your job!”
Byford looked both astonished and much put upon, but after studying his much thumbed copy of ‘A Treatise on the Portuguese Language’, he managed a sentence that made some sense to the two ancients, when he tried it on them.
“Amanhã. Grande batalha. Perigo aqui. Você vem com a gente, até o topo. Cofre.”
The old man looked at the old woman and nodded his head, but she buried her face in her much worn apron. However, Miles was curious.
“What did you say?”
“I said, tomorrow, big battle, you come with us, up top. Safe.”
Miles nodded himself in the direction of the old two, as if to say, ‘yes, yes, the thing to do’.
That night, again, all slept well, despite the rotation of the pickets, but the dawn saw a change in the view forward, because across the whole horizon, from their picket point, many French columns could be seen coming over the hills, marching in their direction. The dawn also brought a change in the occupation of San Antonio, with the Light Company of the 74th descending the long slope from the summit and that of the 105th preparing to move. Outside the cottage, as Two Section marched off, with One Section were two chairs, each with a long pole lashed to the side, and, with the arrival of the kilted 74th Light Infantry, the two ancients were led to the chairs, and each was sat down and tied in. At that point Lieutenant Maltby arrived and took one look.
“What the Hell is all this, Davey?”
Davey sprang to attention, as did all the others, even those manning the poles.
“We thought we’d get these up to safety, Sir, what with the French now arriving and this place soon to be in the middle of a battle. Sir.”
Maltby looked at all the preparations, the prepared sedan chairs, the two old ones sat and strapped and the eight members of his Company ready to pick up the poles. He immediately realised that it would be utterly churlish to deny their good intent, but his face remained stern.
“You should have cleared this with me!”
“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir,”
“Very well, but see that they are no bother. I make you responsible for that!”
Davey saluted.
“Yes Sir. Understood Sir.”
The journey began. The old man seemed to quite enjoy the trip, but the old woman was evidently much upset at having to leave her home. Once at the top and over the ridge track, they soon came to the camp of Bridie and Nellie to find Jed Deakin there with them. He was as puzzled as Maltby had been angry.
“Where’d you find those two?”
Saunders was nearest.
“In one of they hovels down below. The Scotch are there now, then it’ll be the Irish and then the French. We couldn’t leave ‘em down there. All others is gone from the village, these two was too old to move, so we moved ‘em.”
Nellie had heard all and answered before Deakin could.
“Set ‘em down and I’ll see ‘em fed.”
The chairs descended, the poles were removed and then a bowl of stew was given to each. At this the old woman began crying and seized Nellie’s hand, which she pressed to her forehead. The old man tried to comfort her, but he soon became equally upset. Saunders looked at Byford.
“Say something!”
Byford looked amazed that he should be the one who could do anything, but he placed a hand on the shoulder of each.
“Está bem.”
Saunders looked at him.
“What’d you say?”
“It’s alright.”
Saunders looked at the old couple and was pleased to see that the two words had helped. The old woman began eating her stew and the old man already was, but Bridie had her own opinion.
“Tis a crying shame and a sin, so it is, for two such as these to be forced out of their home by a load of maraudin’ Devils!”
Jed Deakin had been listening and watching all the while.
“You’re right there, love, and when I meets the French I’ll make sure that they’s well aware of your low opinion!”
He then got up and left. The withering look he had just received from Bridie persuaded him that leaving was probably a good idea.
Deakin was making for the ridgeline. Saunders words had told him that the French were arriving and so he went to have a look, as did many others. These included, inevitably, Lacey, O’Hare and Carr and the three immediately began using their telescopes. Lacey asked the simple question of the other two.
“How long?”
It was O’Hare who answered, him not of especially greater experience but one that held a valued opinion.
“Mid afternoon. They’ll be here, but not engage, at least not seriously. That’s for the morning. They may send a few forward to feel us out.”
Picton clearly was of a similar mind as he rode up with Mackinnon, but addressed himself to Lacey.
“Your men been fed, Colonel?”
“Yes Sir. Not two hours ago.”
Picton nodded, whilst studying the far distance.
“Right. Get them formed up.”
He then looked at Mackinnon.
“I want your Lights on the end of my line. The left. There’s a bit of a valley there, making an easier way up.”
“Yes Sir, but I only have Lacey’s here and the 88th’s, who are already over there. The 74th Lights are down in San Antonio. As you ordered, Sir.”
Picton’s face darkened at having to be reminded of a situation which he had created himself and so he turned to Lacey.
“Yours with the 88th will have to do, Lacey.”
With that, Pict
on pulled over his horse’s head and rode back to Champlemonde’s Portuguese on his far right; leaving Mackinnon with the three 105th Officers, but it was Lacey who issued the orders.
“Henry. Get Drake’s Lights over beyond the 88th. Go with them, it could well be that you’ll have to command both Companies.”
Carr hurried off to where the Light Company were camped beyond the back road, with Mackinnon studying Carr’s disappearing back. Mackinnon then turned to Lacey.
“That Enquiry business back in October, back in Montijo, any effect on your Major?”
Lacey shook his head.
“None that I’ve seen. However, knowing him, he’ll be fired up by the memory of it, but on the other hand, he’s just got married, which may calm him down.”
Mackinnon smiled, then his expression changed.
“That damn letter of Perry’s. What was the point?”
He drew a deep breath, to almost answer his own question.
“Animosity of some contrivance, but Perry’s been dismissed. Did your Major write a reply?”
O’Hare nodded.
“I believe he did, Sir.”
“Right, I’ll get over there and take a look. On top, a few words from this old curmudgeon may help.”
He walked his horse on, towards the 88th, leaving Lacey to then instruct O’Hare.
“Right. Form line.”
It was O’Hare who ordered up the Drummers and soon the distinctive roll was calling all the Companies to hurry to their places. Deakin was soon stood besides Rushby, with newly promoted Ensign Mulcahey stood beyond him and it was the latter who gained Deakin’s attention. He leaned forward to look at the youngster and saw an excited and eager face beneath the Ensign’s shako, slightly too big, which was once worn by the late lamented Neape. All was plainly well with young Patrick, but the 105th remained in line for the rest of the day. However, they remained standing for only a few minutes, before Lacey allowed them to sit, for food and water to repeatedly ease their vigil, yet it was in no way monotonous, as the blue columns, ever clearer and more numerous, gathered on the plain in the distance, barely more than a mile from the summit of their ridge.
Carr and Drake arrived with their men to find Mackinnon already in place at the head of the small valley that was of such concern to Picton. Both approached and saluted, but Mackinnon spoke to Drake.
“Captain. Get your men in skirmish order 100 yards down, to cover that valley.”
He then pointed.
“That’s the 88th over on your right. I’ll get some men from the next Brigade over to cover your left.”
Drake saluted and ran over to Ellis to issue the necessary orders. Carr made to follow, but Mackinnnon stopped him.
“A word please, Major.”
“Sir?”
Mackinnon dismounted.
“Everything all right with you, Carr, since that Enquiry business?”
Carr immediately became aggrieved, despite his much lower rank.
“Yes Sir. Why shouldn’t it be, Sir?”
Mackinnon allowed the challenge to pass.
“That letter in The Times. Did you reply?”
“Yes Sir, we did. Myself and my fiancé, as she was then. She’s my wife now.”
Mackinnon smiled.
“It would seem that congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you Sir. That’s very kind.”
“Was the letter published?”
“Not during my time back in England, Sir. Since then, I’ve no way of knowing, until I get a letter from home, Sir.”
Mackinnon nodded.
“Now, you’ll keep yourself in check, Carr, won’t you! This is no time for any daft heroics that you feel are needed to repair any damage that may have been done to your reputation.”
Carr remained irritated and replied somewhat stuffily.
“The amount of damage remains to be seen, Sir, but I’ve no intention of putting my life at risk nor those of the men that I command whilst doing it. Sir.”
Mackinnon smiled.
“Just so, Major. Just hold to that thought. It’s no individual heroics that’ll get us back home and out of here. Just good soldierly technique.”
“My thoughts entirely, Sir.”
Mackinnon remounted and walked his horse forward, to get over to the next Brigade and keep his promise to Drake.
“Good luck, Carr.”
Carr saluted.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Both parted and Carr hurried down to check on Drake’s dispositions and those of the 88th, barely seen amongst the thick gorse and heather. He came to the far end of his own men to thankfully see an Officer of the 88th at the join of the two Companies. He was a Captain and he immediately came to the attention and saluted.
“Sennet, Sir. 88th.”
“Carr, 105th. What say we get the men down out of sight? No point in inviting cannonfire, this far down as we are. I’ll do the same with mine.”
“Yes Sir. Makes sense. I’ll see to it.”
Meanwhile, Lacey and O’Hare had remained at the top of their slope, watching the gathering French army. It seemed endless, Brigade after Brigade coming over the far ridge and then descending to add their numbers to those already assembled. O’Hare voiced his thoughts.
“Same size as Talavera?”
“More! Much more. He’s here to sort us out. Boney’s had enough of bad news from Spain.”
He looked along his line.
“See that the men are fed again. My guess is we’ll be sleeping in line tonight, making for a restless night. I don’t want them hungry on top.”
O’Hare was about to reply when they noticed a soldier of the 74th running up the hill, his kilt swinging as he ran and soon his rank of Sergeant could be seen. He paused for a moment to look around, then came up to the pair, these being the only Officers in sight. Breathless from the long, steep climb, he gave his message.
“Sirs. We’ve seen a large body of French making for the slope over on the left, Sirs.”
Lacey looked at him.
“How long since?”
“Just minutes, Sir. I was sent directly up. They’ll be at the top in aboot 15 minutes, Sir.”
“A column or what?”
“Open order, Sir.”
Lacey turned to O’Hare.
“Tirailleurs and Voltiguers! Carr needs warning. Send a runner.”
Within five minutes a swift Drummerboy was arriving at Carr’s side, where he gave a perfect salute.
“Sir. Message from the Colonel, Sir. French skirmishers are coming your way.”
“How long?”
“They was seen from San Antonio about 10 minutes ago, Sir. Must have been seen comin’ down their slope, ‘tother side of the valley.”
Carr smiled at the Drummerboy’s deduction.
“Well done. Now get back. You may be needed with your drum!”
The lad saluted and ran off, leaving Carr to descend to his own skirmish line. Ellis saw him coming and realised that there must be a reason.
“Sir?”
“Bring the men to the alert and keep them under some form of cover and out of sight. Some Johnnies are coming up and could be here soon.”
Ellis saluted and ran off, and Carr walked over to Captain Sennet.
“They’re coming up to try us out. Wait for my order, we could spring a bit of a surprise. When my men come into action, that’s your signal.”
“Very good, Sir, as you wish, but it does seem that our guests have already arrived.”
He pointed down the slope, where French infantry, in skirmishing order were emerging from the even thicker heather and gorse.
“Right, I’ll get back to my men.”
Carr moved some way to the left, more to the centre of his line. Movement behind caught his eye, a Company of Light Infantry were forming across the slope above. Mackinnon had kept his promise to Drake to send support. They were ready as a reserve. Carr used his small telescope to view the oncoming enemy and soon identified
Tirailleurs by their distinctive red collar and shoulder tabs. With them were Voltiguers, their collars and tabs being an equally distinctive yellow and a large and distinctive tassel beside their shakoes. Miles was kneeling nearby.
“Who’s comin’, Sir?”
“Tirailleurs and Voltiguers, Miles.”
“You mean they gamecocks all picked over in red an’ they tassel swingin’ bastards! Beggin’ your pardon, Sir.”
“The same, Miles. Could be that they have a few items they’ll need relieving of, when this is done.”
“There’s a lot of truth in that, Sir.”
Carr smiled and looked along his line. All were down within the heather and gorse, all in their threes, rifles at the ready, butt resting on the dry, thin soil. He transferred his gaze back to the French, labouring up through the thick covering and the thought occurred to him, ‘Good luck to your columns slogging their way up through that! And too far up for artillery support’, but then the main task returned fully to mind. He waited until he judged 150 yards, perfect for a Baker, but ineffective for a musket, even the long French Charleville.
“Give fire!”
The trio near him, Davey, Miles and Pike, began, but one at a time, beginning with Davey bringing down an Officer, then Miles and then Pike. French musket balls began to hum past him and so he kept moving. His men were well into their routine, one firing, one reloading and the third watching for the next threat, in this case any Frenchman fixing on them, who then became an immediate target. Carr had trained the 105 Lights himself and they knew their role, to stop the enemy from harassing the main line, not necessarily to defeat them, but to hold them off at a distance. Also, in their ‘routine of three’ they protected their own lives, fixing on any enemy looking to do them harm.
However, much harm was coming to the French. With their long musket they had to stand to reload, but the Baker, being shorter, could be reloaded from a kneeling position. The elite French skirmishers were suffering, whilst his own men had suffered few casualties, if any. The French line was now further down the slope, not because the French had retired, simply because their leading men had been brought down. It was not long before French bugles blew and all retreated, carrying their many wounded with them. Drake was walking behind his men.
The Plains of Talavera Page 50