Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 1

CHAPTER LIV

THE SUPPER

I have often partaken of more luxurious cookery and rarer wines; but never do I remember enjoying a more welcome supper than on this occasion.

Our Portuguese guests left us soon, and the major and myself were once more tête-a-tête beside a cheerful fire; a well-chosen array of bottles guaranteeing that for some time at least no necessity of leave-taking should arise from any deficiency of wine.

“That sherry is very near the thing, Charley; a little, a very little sharp, but the after-taste perfect. And now, my boy, how have you been doing since we parted?”

“Not so badly, Major. I have already got a step in promotion. The affair at the Douro gave me a lieutenancy.”

“I wish you joy with all my heart. I’ll call you captain always while you’re with me. Upon my life I will. Why, man, they style me your Excellency here. Bless your heart, we are great folk among the Portuguese, and no bad service, after all.”

“I should think not, Major. You seem to have always made a good thing of it.”

“No, Charley; no, my boy. They overlook us greatly in general orders and despatches. Had the brilliant action of to-day been fought by the British – But no matter, they may behave well in England, after all; and when I’m called to the Upper House as Baron Monsoon of the Tagus, – is that better than Lord Alcantara?”

“I prefer the latter.”

“Well, then, I’ll have it. Lord! what a treaty I’ll move for with Portugal, to let us have wine cheap. Wine, you know, as David says, gives us a pleasant countenance; and oil, – I forget what oil does. Pass over the decanter. And how is Sir Arthur, Charley? A fine fellow, but sadly deficient in the knowledge of supplies. Never would have made any character in the commissariat. Bless your heart, he pays for everything here as if he were in Cheapside.”

“How absurd, to be sure!”

“Isn’t it, though? That was not my way, when I was commissary-general about a year or two ago. To be sure, how I did puzzle them! They tried to audit my accounts, and what do you think I did? I brought them in three thousand pounds in my debt. They never tried on that game any more. ‘No, no,’ said the Junta, ‘Beresford and Monsoon are great men, and must be treated with respect!’ Do you think we’d let them search our pockets? But the rogues doubled on us after all; they sent us to the northward, – a poor country – ”

“So that, except a little commonplace pillage of the convents and nunneries, you had little or nothing?”

“Exactly so; and then I got a great shock about that time that affected my spirits for a considerable while.”

“Indeed, Major, some illness?”

“No, I was quite well; but – Lord, how thirsty it makes me to think of it; my throat is absolutely parched – I was near being hanged!”

“Hanged!”

“Yes. Upon my life it’s true, – very horrible, ain’t it? It had a great effect upon my nervous system; and they never thought of any little pension to me as a recompense for my sufferings.”

“And who was barbarous enough to think of such a thing, Major?”

“Sir Arthur Wellesley himself, – none other, Charley?”

“Oh, it was a mistake, Major, or a joke.”

“It was devilish near being a practical one, though. I’ll tell you how it occurred. After the battle of Vimeira, the brigade to which I was attached had their headquarters at San Pietro, a large convent where all the church plate for miles around was stored up for safety. A sergeant’s guard was accordingly stationed over the refectory, and every precaution taken to prevent pillage, Sir Arthur himself having given particular orders on the subject. Well, somehow, – I never could find out how, – but in leaving the place, all the wagons of our brigade had got some trifling articles of small value scattered, as it might be, among their stores, – gold cups, silver candlesticks, Virgin Marys, ivory crucifixes, saints’ eyes set in topazes, and martyrs’ toes in silver filagree, and a hundred other similar things.

“One of these confounded bullock-cars broke down just at the angle of the road where the commander-in-chief was standing with his staff to watch the troops defile, and out rolled, among bread rations and salt beef, a whole avalanche of precious relics and church ornaments. Every one stood aghast! Never was there such a misfortune. No one endeavored to repair the mishap, but all looked on in terrified amazement as to what was to follow.

“‘Who has the command of this detachment?’ shouted out Sir Arthur, in a voice that made more than one of us tremble.

“‘Monsoon, your Excellency, – Major Monsoon, of the Portuguese brigade.’

“‘The d – d old rogue, I know him!’ Upon my life that’s what he said. ‘Hang him up on the spot,’ pointing with his finger as he spoke; ‘we shall see if this practice cannot be put a stop to.’ And with these words he rode leisurely away, as if he had been merely ordering dinner for a small party.

“When I came up to the place the halberts were fixed, and Gronow, with a company of the Fusiliers, under arms beside them.

“‘Devilish sorry for it, Major,’ said he; ‘It’s confoundedly unpleasant; but can’t be helped. We’ve got orders to see you hanged.’

“Faith, it was just so he said it, tapping his snuff-box as he spoke, and looking carelessly about him. Now, had it not been for the fixed halberts and the provost-marshal, I’d not have believed him; but one glance at them, and another at the bullock-cart with all the holy images, told me at once what had happened.

“‘He only means to frighten me a little? Isn’t that all, Gronow?’ cried I, in a supplicating voice.

“‘Very possibly, Major,’ said he; ‘but I must execute my orders.’

“‘You’ll surely not – ’ Before I could finish, up came Dan Mackinnon, cantering smartly.

“‘Going to hang old Monsoon, eh, Gronow? What fun!’

“‘Ain’t it, though,’ said I, half blubbering.

“‘Well, if you’re a good Catholic, you may have your choice of a saint, for, by Jupiter, there’s a strong muster of them here.’ This cruel allusion was made in reference to the gold and silver effigies that lay scattered about the highway.

“‘Dan,’ said I, in a whisper, ‘intercede for me. Do, like a good, kind fellow. You have influence with Sir Arthur.’

“‘You old sinner,’ said he, ‘it’s useless.’

“‘Dan, I’ll forgive you the fifteen pounds.’

“‘That you owe me,’ said Dan, laughing.

“‘Who’ll ever be the father to you I have been? Who’ll mix your punch with burned Madeira, when I’m gone?’ said I.

“‘Well, really, I am sorry for you, Monsoon. I say, Gronow, don’t tuck him up for a few minutes; I’ll speak for the old villain, and if I succeed, I’ll wave my handkerchief.’

“Well, away went Dan at a full gallop. Gronow sat down on a bank, and I fidgeted about in no very enviable frame of mind, the confounded provost-marshal eying me all the while.

“‘I can only give you five minutes more, Major,’ said Gronow, placing his watch beside him on the grass. I tried to pray a little, and said three or four of Solomon’s proverbs, when he again called out: ‘There, you see it won’t do! Sir Arthur is shaking his head.’

“‘What’s that waving yonder?’

“‘The colors of the 6th Foot. Come, Major, off with your stock.’

“‘Where is Dan now; what is he doing?’ – for I could see nothing myself.

“‘He’s riding beside Sir Arthur. They all seem laughing.’

“‘God forgive them! what an awful retrospect this will prove to some of them.’

“‘Time’s up!’ said Gronow, jumping up, and replacing his watch in his pocket.

“‘Provost-Marshal, be quick now – ’

“‘Eh! what’s that? – there, I see it waving! There’s a shout too!’

“‘Ay, by Jove! so it is; well, you’re saved this time, Major; that’s the signal.’

“So saying, Gronow formed his fellows in line and resumed his march quite coolly, leaving me alone on the roadside to meditate over martial law and my pernicious taste for relics.

“Well, Charley, this gave me a great shock, and I think, too, it must have had a great effect upon Sir Arthur himself; but, upon my life, he has wonderful nerves. I met him one day afterwards at dinner in Lisbon; he looked at me very hard for a few seconds: ‘Eh, Monsoon! Major Monsoon, I think?’

“‘Yes, your Excellency,’ said I, briefly; thinking how painful it must be for him to meet me.

“‘Thought I had hanged you, – know I intended it, – no matter. A glass of wine with you?’

“Upon my life, that was all; how easily some people can forgive themselves! But Charley, my hearty, we are getting on slowly with the tipple; are they all empty? So they are! Let us make a sortie on the cellar; bring a candle with you, and come along.”

We had scarcely proceeded a few steps from the door, when a most vociferous sound of mirth, arising from a neighboring apartment, arrested our progress.

“Are the dons so convivial, Major?” said I, as a hearty burst of laughter broke forth at the moment.

“Upon my life, they surprise me; I begin to fear they have taken some of our wine.”

We now perceived that the sounds of merriment came from the kitchen, which opened upon a little courtyard. Into this we crept stealthily, and approaching noiselessly to the window, obtained a peep at the scene within.

Around a blazing fire, over which hung by a chain a massive iron pot, sat a goodly party of some half-dozen people. One group lay in dark shadow; but the others were brilliantly lighted up by the cheerful blaze, and showed us a portly Dominican friar, with a beard down to his waist, a buxom, dark-eyed girl of some eighteen years, and between the two, most comfortably leaning back, with an arm round each, no less a person than my trusty man Mickey Free.

It was evident, from the alternate motion of his head, that his attentions were evenly divided between the church and the fair sex; although, to confess the truth, they seemed much more favorably received by the latter than the former, – a brown earthen flagon appearing to absorb all the worthy monk’s thoughts that he could spare from the contemplation of heavenly objects.

“Mary, my darlin,’ don’t be looking at me that way, through the corner of your eye; I know you’re fond of me, – but the girls always was. You think I’m joking, but troth I wouldn’t say a lie before the holy man beside me; sure I wouldn’t, Father?”

The friar grunted out something in reply, not very unlike, in sound at least, a hearty anathema.

“Ah, then, isn’t it yourself has the illigant time of it, Father dear!” said he, tapping him familiarly upon his ample paunch, “and nothing to trouble you; the best of divarsion wherever you go, and whether it’s Badahos or Ballykilruddery, it’s all one; the women is fond of ye. Father Murphy, the coadjutor in Scariff, was just such another as yourself, and he’d coax the birds off the trees with the tongue of him. Give us a pull at the pipkin before it’s all gone, and I’ll give you a chant.”

With this he seized the jar, and drained it to the bottom; the smack of his lips as he concluded, and the disappointed look of the friar as he peered into the vessel, throwing the others, once more, into a loud burst of laughter.

“And now, your rev’rance, a good chorus is all I’ll ask, and you’ll not refuse it for the honor of the church.”

So saying, he turned a look of most droll expression upon the monk, and began the following ditty, to the air of “Saint Patrick was a Gentleman”: —

What an illegant life a friar leads,With a fat round paunch before him!He mutters a prayer and counts his beads,And all the women adore him.It’s little he’s troubled to work or think,Wherever devotion leads him;A “pater” pays for his dinner and drink,For the Church – good luck to her! – feeds him.From the cow in the field to the pig in the sty,From the maid to the lady in satin,They tremble wherever he turns an eye.He can talk to the Devil in Latin!He’s mighty severe to the ugly and ould,And curses like mad when he’s near ‘em;But one beautiful trait of him I’ve been tould,The innocent craytures don’t fear him.It’s little for spirits or ghosts he cares;For ‘tis true as the world supposes,With an Ave he’d make them march down-stairs,Av they dared to show their noses.The Devil himself’s afraid, ‘tis said,And dares not to deride him;For “angels make each night his bed,And then – lie down beside him.”

A perfect burst of laughter from Monsoon prevented my hearing how Mike’s minstrelsy succeeded within doors; but when I looked again, I found that the friar had decamped, leaving the field open to his rival, – a circumstance, I could plainly perceive, not disliked by either party.

“Come back, Charley, that villain of yours has given me the cramp, standing here on the cold pavement. We’ll have a little warm posset, – very small and thin, as they say in Tom Jones, – and then to bed.”

Notwithstanding the abstemious intentions of the major, it was daybreak ere we separated, and neither party in a condition for performing upon the tight-rope.

CHAPTER LV

THE LEGION

My services while with the Legion were of no very distinguished character, and require no lengthened chronicle. Their great feat of arms, the repulse of an advanced guard of Victor’s corps, had taken place the very morning I had joined them, and the ensuing month was passed in soft repose upon their laurels.

For the first few days, indeed, a multiplicity of cares beset the worthy major. There was a despatch to be written to Beresford, another to the Supreme Junta, a letter to Wilson, at that time with the corps of observation to the eastward. There were some wounded to be looked after, a speech to be made to the conquering heroes themselves, and lastly, a few prisoners were taken, whose fate seemed certainly to partake of the most uncertain of war’s proverbial chances.

The despatches gave little trouble; with some very slight alterations, the great original, already sent forward to Sir Arthur, served as a basis for the rest. The wounded were forwarded to Alcantara, with a medical staff; to whom Monsoon, at parting, pleasantly hinted that he expected to see all the sick at their duty by an early day, or he would be compelled to report the doctors. The speech, which was intended as a kind of general order, he deferred for some favorable afternoon when he could get up his Portuguese; and lastly, came the prisoners, by far the most difficult of all his cares. As for the few common soldiers taken, they gave him little uneasiness, – as Sir John has it, they were “mortal men, and food for powder;” but there was a staff-officer among them, aiguilletted and epauletted. The very decorations he wore were no common temptation. Now, the major deliberated a long time with himself, whether the usages of modern war might not admit of the ancient, time-honored practice of ransom. The battle, save in glory, had been singularly unproductive: plunder there was none; the few ammunition-wagons and gun-carriages were worth little or nothing; so that, save the prisoners, nothing remained. It was late in the evening – the mellow hour of the major’s meditations – when he ventured to open his heart to me upon the matter.

“I was just thinking, Charley, how very superior they were in olden times to us moderns, in many matters, and nothing more than in their treatment of prisoners. They never took them away from their friends and country; they always ransomed them, – if they had wherewithal to pay their way. So good-natured! – upon my life it was a most excellent custom! They took any little valuables they found about them, and then put them up at auction. Moses and Eleazar, a priest, we are told, took every piece of gold, and their wrought jewels, – meaning their watches, and ear-rings. You needn’t laugh, they all wore ear-rings, those fellows did. Now, why shouldn’t I profit by their good example? I have taken Agag, the King of the Amalekites, – no, but upon my life, I have got a French major, and I’d let him go for fifty doubloons.”

It was not without much laughing, and some eloquence, that I could persuade Monsoon that Sir Arthur’s military notions might not accept of even the authority of Moses; and as our headquarters were at no great distance, the danger of such a step as he meditated was too considerable at such a moment.

As for ourselves, no fatiguing drills, no harassing field-days, and no provoking inspections interfered with the easy current of our lives. Foraging parties there were, it was true, and some occasional outpost duty was performed. But the officers for both were selected with a tact that proved the major’s appreciation of character; for while the gay, joyous fellow that sung a jovial song and loved his liquor was certain of being entertained at headquarters, the less-gifted and less-congenial spirit had the happiness of scouring the country for forage, and presenting himself as a target to a French rifle.

My own endeavors to fulfil my instructions met with but little encouragement or support; and although I labored hard at my task, I must confess that the soil was a most ungrateful one. The cavalry were, it is true, composed mostly of young fellows well-appointed, and in most cases well-mounted; but a more disorderly, careless, undisciplined set of good-humored fellows never formed a corps in the world.

Monsoon’s opinions were felt in every branch of the service, from the adjutant to the drumboy, – the same reckless, indolent, plunder-loving spirit prevailed everywhere. And although under fire they showed no lack of gallantry or courage, the moment of danger passed, discipline departed with it, and their only conception of benefiting by a victory consisted in the amount of pillage that resulted from it.

From time to time the rumors of great events reached us. We heard that Soult, having succeeded in re-organizing his beaten army, was, in conjunction with Ney’s corps, returning from the north; that the marshals were consolidating their forces in the neighborhood of Talavera; and that King Joseph himself, at the head of a large army, had marched for Madrid.

Menacing as such an aspect of affairs was, it had little disturbed the major’s equanimity; and when our advanced posts reported daily the intelligence that the French were in retreat, he cared little with what object of concentrating they retired, provided the interval between us grew gradually wider. His speculations upon the future were singularly prophetic. “You’ll see, Charley, what will happen; old Cuesta will pursue them, and get thrashed. The English will come up, and perhaps get thrashed too; but we, God bless us! are only a small force, partially organized and ill to depend on, – we’ll go up the mountains till all is over!” Thus did the major’s discretion not only extend to the avoidance of danger, but he actually disqualified himself from even making its acquaintance.

Meanwhile our operations consisted in making easy marches to Almarez, halting wherever the commissariat reported a well-stocked cellar or well-furnished hen-roost, taking the primrose path in life, and being, in words of the major, “contented and grateful, even amidst great perils!”

CHAPTER LVI

THE DEPARTURE

On the morning of the 10th July a despatch reached us announcing that Sir Arthur Wellesley had taken up his headquarters at Placentia for the purpose of communicating with Cuesta, then at Casa del Puerto; and ordering me immediately to repair to the Spanish headquarters and await Sir Arthur’s arrival, to make my report upon the effective state of our corps. As for me, I was heartily tired of the inaction of my present life, and much as I relished the eccentricities of my friend the major, longed ardently for a different sphere of action.

Not so Monsoon; the prospect of active employment and the thoughts of being left once more alone, for his Portuguese staff afforded him little society, depressed him greatly; and as the hour of my departure drew near, he appeared lower in spirits than I had ever seen him.

“I shall be very lonely without you, Charley,” said he, with a sigh, as we sat the last evening together beside our cheerful wood fire. “I have little intercourse with the dons; for my Portuguese is none of the best, and only comes when the evening is far advanced; and besides, the villains, I fear, may remember the sherry affair. Two of my present staff were with me then.”

“Is that the story Power so often alluded to, Major; the King of Spain’s – ”

“There, Charley, hush; be cautious, my boy. I’d rather not speak about that till we get among our own fellows.”

“Just as you like, Major; but, do you know, I have a strong curiosity to hear the narrative.”

“If I’m not mistaken, there is some one listening at the door, – gently; that’s it, eh?”

“No, we are perfectly alone; the night’s early; who knows when we shall have as quiet an hour again together? Let me hear it, by all means.”

“Well, I don’t care; the thing, Heaven knows! is tolerably well known; so if you’ll amuse yourself making a devil of the turkey’s legs there, I’ll tell you the story. It’s very short, Charley, and there’s no moral; so you’re not likely to repeat it.”

So saying, the major filled up his glass, drew a little closer to the fire, and began: —

“When the French troops, under Laborde, were marching, upon Alcobaca, in concert with Loison’s corps, I was ordered to convey a very valuable present of sherry the Duo d’Albu-querque was making to the Supreme Junta, – no less than ten hogsheads of the best sherry the royal cellars of Madrid had formerly contained.

“It was stored in the San Vincente convent; and the Junta, knowing a little about monkish tastes and the wants of the Church, prudently thought it would be quite as well at Lisbon. I was accordingly ordered, with a sufficient force, to provide for its safe conduct and secure arrival, and set out upon my march one lovely morning in April with my precious convoy.

“I don’t know, I never could understand, why temptations are thrown in our way in this life, except for the pleasure of yielding to them. As for me, I’m a stoic when there’s nothing to be had; but let me get a scent of a well-kept haunch, the odor of a wine-bin once in my nose, I forget everything except appropriation. That bone smells deliciously, Charley; a little garlic would improve it vastly.

“Our road lay through cross-paths and mountain tracts, for the French were scouring the country on every side, and my fellows, only twenty altogether, trembled at the very name of them; so that our only chance was to avoid falling in with any forage parties. We journeyed along for several days, rarely making more than a few leagues between sunrise and sunset, a scout always in advance to assure us that all was safe. The road was a lonesome one and the way weary, for I had no one to speak to or converse with, so I fell into a kind of musing fit about the old wine in the great brown casks. I thought on its luscious flavor, its rich straw tint, its oily look as it flowed into the glass, the mellow after-taste warming the heart as it went down, and I absolutely thought I could smell it through the wood.

“How I longed to broach one of them, if it were only to see if my dreams about it were correct. ‘May be it’s brown sherry,’ thought I, ‘and I am all wrong.’ This was a very distressing reflection. I mentioned it to the Portuguese intendant, who travelled with us as a kind of supercargo; but the villain only grinned and said something about the Junta and the galleys for life, so I did not recur to it afterwards. Well, it was upon the third evening of our march that the scout reported that at Merida, about a league distant, he had fallen in with an English cavalry regiment, who were on their march to the northern provinces, and remaining that night in the village. As soon, therefore, as I had made all my arrangements for the night, I took a fresh horse and cantered over to have a look at my countrymen, and hear the news. When I arrived, it was a dark night, but I was not long in finding out our fellows. They were the 11th Light Dragoons, commanded by my old friend Bowes, and with as jolly a mess as any in the service.

“Before half an hour’s time I was in the midst of them, hearing all about the campaign, and telling them in return about my convoy, dilating upon the qualities of the wine as if I had been drinking it every day at dinner.

“We had a very mellow night of it; and before four o’clock the senior major and four captains were under the table, and all the subs, in a state unprovided for by the articles of war. So I thought I’d be going, and wishing the sober ones a good-by, set out on my road to join my own party.