The Plains of Talavera

by Martin McDowell

Drake nodded and then studied the walls around.

  “I want loopholes in the walls of the pigsty house and the stones of that wall behind brought to this one in front and dropped over to act as a glacis slope that will deflect any cannon-shot.”

  Davey was not happy. A pile of stones at the front of the wall would make it easier to climb over, but this was an order.

  “Yes Sir. I’ll see it’s done. When we’ve cleared this muck away.”

  Drake left to enter the building and climb the stairs to where the floor divided into two rooms. In one, Maltby was at the window, which provided the best view down the road. He turned briefly when Drake entered the room to quickly turn back and resume his watch forward.

  “Hello, Sir. All quiet so far.”

  Drake came to the window.

  “Have you any men out forward? As an advanced picket?”

  Maltby pointed out the window.

  “Yes Sir. Three hundred yards out, in that clump of trees, Pike and Miles.”

  Drake nodded.

  “Good. Keep your Section at it. Carr’s certain that Johnny will arrive sometime today.”

  Three hundred yards forward, the objects of their conversation were busy cutting branches.

  “Get these piled here, Joe. You can bet that some Frog Officer has got his telescope on this here place and it can be no bad thing if they can’t see us.”

  Joe Pike added a well-leafed branch to the top of a bush, adding it to many others and nodded his satisfaction.

  “That do, Tom?”

  Miles now sitting himself behind it, provided an answer.

  “Right. Let’s start on that sausage and biscuit. What’ve we got to drink?”

  “Some white wine.”

  “White wine! Watered down for you!”

  Miles did the watering down, whilst Pike divided the food. Soon both were eating and drinking contentedly, but Pike was plainly the more relaxed of the two and perhaps the most distracted by his own thoughts. The subject on his mind dwelt very much within his own painful experience.

  “It’s a bad thing with Eirin.”

  Miles was busy peering between branches.

  “’Sright, but ‘tis not unknown. Young Officers meddlin’ with the girls of the Followers. Young wives too!”

  “Do you think she ever thought he’d marry her?”

  Miles emitted a sharp breath.

  “Who can say? Young girl like that. Who knows what hopes they keeps within ‘em.”

  “She’s not so young. Seventeen, goin’ on eighteen.”

  “Young enough to think it’ll all come up roses.”

  “Still, Tom, according to Jed, Maltby’s putting up, so as she goes into a Convent.”

  Miles spat to one side.

  “I’ll believe that when it happens! And only then!”

  Always looking forward, suddenly he tensed.

  “Johnny’s on his way, boy. I’ll stay a while more, but get back to Drake or Carr.”

  “And say what?”

  “The French is comin’. Enough to fill a racetrack!”

  Puzzled, Joe Pike left the trees to sprint back and found both Officers together. He spoke the exact words to his Captain, who grinned at the description.

  “And whose judgement is that?”

  “Tom Miles Sir.”

  Drake looked at Carr.

  “That’ll do for me!”

  “And me. Order stand to.”

  Within minutes, all tools and shovels were discarded and the men of Erskine’s Light Companies were donning their crossbelts and equipment and carrying their weapons to their prepared positions. Flints were checked and also cartridges, for ease of extraction from their box. The men of Maltby’s Section saw Tom Miles scurrying back and Drake questioned him when he had scrambled over the paddock wall.

  “How far behind, Miles?”

  “’Bout 200 yards, Sir. Comin’ on slow, feelin’ their way, like.”

  “How many?”

  “Hundreds, Sir. Quite a crowd.”

  “A column behind?”

  “Couldn’t say, Sir. They’s too dense.”

  However, from the upstairs window, Carr could and, being stood alone, he spoke to himself.

  “No column, but there’s many more than we can hold back.”

  Behind him he had a messenger for each Company, plus John Byford and he turned to address the Company messengers first.

  “Tell your Captains, I leave it to them to decide when to fall back. We rally on the far side of the ravine, but all retire at the sound of ‘Retreat’. Got that?”

  Four ‘Yes Sirs’ came back, not quite in unison, but they saluted and ran off.

  “Byford! Back to the redoubts. Tell the Colonel or General Erskine what’s happening.”

  As Byford clattered down the stairs, Carr returned to his window, to see the first of the French skirmishers enveloping the trees used by Pike and Miles. Carr ran down to Drake’s Light Company, who were to the left of the road, with the 60th on the opposite side, also armed with Baker rifles. Creating the rest of the line, to the left of Drake were the 50th, and the 92nd formed the far left. The road came through Carr’s right centre, the ravine being behind the 50th. Carr found Davey at the stonewall and was brutally brief.

  “Him on the horse!”

  “Sir.”

  Davey looked forward to see the leading Officer, encouraging his men on, so many of them and so compacted, that they did almost form a column. Davey set his sights for 150 yards, then the order came from his Company Captain.

  “Load!”

  Davey pulled out one of the soft leather patches that were sometimes used to wrap the ball, so that it would better grip the barrel rifling of a Baker. Instead of ramming down the ball still in the paper, he tipped in the powder and wrapped up the ball, before squeezing it into the muzzle. It went down snugly and so he rammed all down tight and waited. Drake was behind and gave his order, which caused many to chuckle.

  “Fire when you think you’ll hit something!”

  Davey was content. He knelt down at the wall, rested his Baker between two stones that he had placed there himself and took aim. He held his breath, took final sight and squeezed the trigger. The rifle went off with its sharp bark. Davey had been the first to fire and so he was enveloped in smoke, but the cries of satisfaction from his messmates told him that his aim had been true, the most loud and gleeful coming from Tom Miles.

  “You gott’n, John! You gott’n.”

  The smoke cleared and Davey could see the Officer slumped over his horse, this now being held by a Tirailleur, whilst the Officer was taken down to lie very still on the turf. Then, at that point, the whole British line opened fire for all to be enveloped in smoke. The one man who could see best was Carr, now returned upstairs and above the smoke, but of one thing he was determined and again he spoke it aloud

  “Not one man, if I can help it. This is just theatre to show the Frogs that whatever they get, they’ll have to fight for. And pay a price!”

  However, ‘Bugle Bates’ was close, which fact Carr had forgotten.

  “The lads’ll appreciate that, Sir.”

  Carr turned to see him, a little surprised, but he may as well make use of his presence.

  “Get to that window to the left. When the Frogs are 50 yards up to the 50th and 92nd, I want to know.”

  “Sir.”

  Bates went to the window and watched. He knew what Carr was thinking, that the 50th and 92nd, armed only with Brown Bess muskets, would be the first to fail to hold the French at a safe distance. Carr added within himself that he did not want his own 105th and the 60th to be in any danger of being cut off from the ravine. He was once more studying his own front when Erskine arrived.

  “What have you got, Carr?”

  “See for yourself, Sir. Reconnaissance in strength, with more behind.”

  Erskine peered forward through the window.

  “Right, but you’ve got almost a whole wing in here. Hold them. Don’t give
best easily, but come back to the other side when you judge best. I’ll have the guns ready in support.”

  With that he was gone, before Carr could reply. He now looked forward for himself to see that the French were fighting very cleverly, not walking forward, but kneeling to fire, or even lying down, thus their casualties were few, but they were exerting little pressure on the British. This went on for some minutes, until another French Officer arrived, him on foot and he began shouting and gesticulating towards the village. With that, the whole French line stood and began to advance. They were met by a volley from the village, but the dense smoke now lingering from the ongoing conflict spoiled the aim of almost all and only a handful of unlucky French were felled. Carr grew anxious.

  “What have you got, Bates?”

  “There’s too many to stop, Sir, and they’re up close.”

  “Right. Sound off.”

  Bates, stood at his open window, sounded ‘Retreat’. Almost immediately the British fire fell away and Carr decided it was time to leave.

  “Come on, Bates.”

  The two descended the stairs and ran out of the front door to find the streets full of running Redcoats. He ran over to look for the 60th Rifles beyond the road and they were also pulling back to safety. However, some, very well trained, perhaps too well, were filing back in their threes, following their fallback drill. Carr ran over.

  “Forget filing back. Out! Get out the village. Get to the far side of the ravine.”

  All the 60th were now running back and Carr turned to look back down the main street to see the first French arriving. Musket balls whistled above him as he finally passed the last buildings and he was one of the last to descend into the ravine but he had time to help a man of the 105th, hit in the leg. Now supported, the man could hobble faster and they soon reached their two deep line, only 50 yards from the top of the slope. The line was solid and well formed, with the slope so steep that the second line could fire over the heads of the first.

  It was not long before the first of the French emerged from the nearest buildings of Sobral. Carr scrambled up the rest of the slope to reach the semaphore mast whose arms were working maniacally. There he found Erskine and Spencer, with Wellington himself but a little way off. Carr saluted, but said nothing, until Spencer turned to him.

  “Think they’ll cross, Carr?”

  Carr had no hesitation.

  “No Sir, they’ll not. I feel these are too well led.”

  Spencer looked down at him.

  “Too well led!”

  “Yes Sir. They came on carefully, feeling their way. They’ve got the village, which was what they want.”

  Each minute that passed gave weight to Carr’s opinion. The French formed a line, but remained close to the walls of Sobral. Spencer smacked his right fist into his left palm.

  “You’re right, Carr, but these Frogs can have some grapeshot anyway.”

  He turned to an Officer close behind him.

  “Buckley!”

  Buckley hurried off and within three minutes the first gun from the many redoubts around them fired. However, at that first gun the French hurried back behind the stonework of Sobral and the remaining Agraca redoubts loosed off their guns against an empty space, but Spencer smiled as the grapeshot splattered against the white walls of Sobral, leaving pock marks that revealed the dark stone beneath.

  “No matter. Now they know this will be no easy nut to crack!”

  “Do I pull my men back, Sir?”

  “No. Hold them here. My guess is that Johnny’s not done. He’ll try with a full column before this day’s out.”

  If his men were to remain there, Carr thought it only right that he remain with them, and so he descended the short length of slope to find Drake.

  “Spencer wants us still out here. I can’t see Johnny trying anything more this day, but he thinks they will. Give it an hour and then let the men sit and eat.”

  Drake nodded.

  “Very good.”

  “I’ll get around to the other Captains. I’d say we’re here until dark.”

  The men of the four Light Companies sat the comfortable slope and ate their food, all emptying their haversacks, confident that more would arrive with the falling night. Tom Davey and Ellis sat together in the growing gloom.

  “Not much longer, Sarn’t.”

  “No. Us sat here is a plain waste, but some poor buggers will be gettin’ a night duty to put a barrier across that road. That’s for sure.”

  He pointed to the only road linking Sobral with Monte Agraca, running around the head of the separating valley. Davey looked at him, then he heard footfalls behind him and turned to see Drake, but he had come for Ellis.

  “We’re pulling back to our camp, Sergeant. I leave that to you. I’m going around the other Companies.”

  Ellis stood up with Davey.

  “Sir.”

  Then, with Drake gone, Ellis spoke to Davey.

  “Get ‘em out of here, John. Sharpish! We don’t want to be about when some Officer decides to start some building work.”

  The retreat of the 105th Light Company was indeed very rapid, almost precipitate, and those with the awareness of their escape, including Davey and Ellis, sat gratefully around their messfires to partake gratefully of the saltfish stew that Bridie and Nellie had prepared. After the routine cleaning and inspection of their equipment and weapons, all sat talking and waiting for ‘lights out’. The one departure from the routine was Jed Deakin doing the rounds with a spare haversack making the collection for Eirin. There was little in the way of coin but much that had been gleaned from French Officer’s uniforms. He came to Tom Miles.

  “You put in?”

  Miles looked up, meeting the challenge.

  “Yes. Twice.”

  “What?”

  “All the buttons what I got. There b’ain’t no more.”

  “No coin?”

  “Not ‘till payday. Like the rest.”

  Eirin had heard and seen all and managed a slight smile, then the sickness took hold of her once again.

  Dawn found that Ellis’ prediction of nightime barrier building had been false, but the sounds of fighting from over on their left were enough for all to don their equipment and once more check their weapons. Lacey and O’Hare took themselves forward to the semaphore station atop the mount. There they found Erskine and Spencer and it was the latter who spoke first.

  “Yours ready, Lacey?”

  “Sir.”

  Spencer nodded.

  “That over to the left, which we can hear, is Cole’s Division being tried out, but the Peer is most worried about Sobral over there. If Johnny tries anything serious, it’ll be against us.”

  Lacey turned to him, frowning.

  “Then we’ll be called forward, Sir.”

  “Probably, yes, but you’ll not be alone. He’s brought down from the North the whole of both Picton’s and Campbell’s Divisions to support myself and Cole. Here!”

  The last word was thoroughly emphasised, but Lacey felt relief. There would be no prolonged rearguard for his men and he was also relieved, for their sake, to see the Company of the 60th busy gathering anything that could be included in a barrier which they were building on the road, over to Lacey’s right, between the stone walls that girded the road. Spencer and Erskine, meanwhile, were busy with their telescopes, studying Sobral, Erskine giving the running commentary.

  “All I can see is a few heads bobbing about. Nothing serious at all.”

  Spencer was nothing like as sanguine.

  “He’ll try, though. He’s got to. He has to push us out of here and then pierce The Lines to get us back to the sea. He can’t sit out there. It’s him that’s under siege. Not us.”

  Erskine lowered his telescope and looked at him.

  “How so?”

  “Every Portuguese and Spanish out there, Regular, Guerrilla and Ordenanza have pulled in behind him. Nothing’s getting through to him. Two weeks and they’ll be starving!”<
br />
  He was still looking through his telescope when suddenly he tensed.

  “There! Look there, the windows of that place with the green shutters.”

  Erskine drew out his telescope and focused.

  “What I can see is a whole tailor’s shop of splendid uniforms at each window.”

  Spencer lowered his telescope and snapped it shut.

  “That’s Massena! Come to take a look. I’m off to The Peer. If Massena’s here, it must be us.”

  With that he was gone, leaving Erskine with Lacey and O’Hare.

  “This afternoon or tomorrow, Lacey. I’ll need your Lights to support the 60th at that barricade.”

  With that, he was gone, leaving the two stood together. All the while O’Hare had been using his own telescope.

  “I think we can discount today.”

  Lacey looked at him, and spoke, evidently much puzzled.

  “Why?”

  “Can you see any guns? I can’t. He’ll not try that road without artillery support and that means getting guns through and into Sobral. If he does choose here, that’ll take the rest of today.”

  He looked over to the barrier, now almost complete.

  “Sending anything over that ravine or down that road is madness! Even without that barrier, the road’s worse. With all the guns we’ve got up here, half of his men, more, will be knocked over before they reach that barrier. It’s nearly half a mile from the village!”

  He sighed, half in sadness, but said no more as Lacey replied.

  “I’m sure you’re right, but we’ll hold the men in readiness.”

  O’Hare began walking back.

  “Agreed. Kit off, but none to stray.”

  O’Hare was right and for the rest of the day the Officers of the two armies regarded each other through telescopes, both accurate and expensive or otherwise. With the growing darkness, the mess of John Davey witnessed the Light Company of the 50th moving forward to the slope under the Semaphore Station, which sight Tom Miles could not resist.

  “Don’t you go sleepin' on the job, now boys. I’d not like to see any of you on the triangle!”

  Despite their battle record together, there was no love lost between the 50th and the 105th and a curt reply came out of the dark.

  “Sod you and sod off!”

  However, then came a more pointed reply.