Kitabı oku: «With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula», sayfa 8
CHAPTER VIII
Tom changes Quarters
Heavy drops of thunder rain, pattering upon the roof above and upon the stone flags that surrounded the front of the church, awakened Tom Clifford at early dawn on the morning after he had led the French troopers to their defensive post. Not that the rumbling thunder outside nor the patter of the raindrops awakened him to a sense of his position. For our hero had been sunk in a deep sleep, which nothing had disturbed up till this moment. Now, however, the disturbance gave rise in his half-slumbering brain to a train of thought which was half-delicious, half the reverse. For Tom was back again in his home, beneath the shadow of that grand mulberry tree, with Father Thames flowing past the forecourt silently, swiftly, incessantly, as if ever engaged upon a purpose. Yes, he was beneath the hospitable and safe roof of Septimus John Clifford & Son, Wine Merchants, with Marguerite as his chum and close attendant, with the ever-faithful Huggins, his father's senior clerk, to smile indulgently upon him, and Septimus John Clifford himself to praise his efforts to acquire Portuguese and Spanish and French.
"Heigho!" he yawned loudly, stretching his arms wide apart. "Beastly stuff this Portuguese and French and Spanish," he babbled, still half-asleep. "Let's go out on the river, Marguerite."
Then a shadow crossed the horizon of this pleasant half-waking dream. A youth slipped into the arena at the far corner, a youth of olive complexion, whose thin limbs writhed and twisted incongruously, whose fingers twitched and plucked at moving lips, and whose very appearance bespoke indecision, a wavering courage, meanness, and all that that implies. It was José, Tom's cousin, and his image drew a growl from our hero.
"Always interfering and getting in the way," he grunted peevishly. "I have to watch him like a cat for fear he will illtreat his sister. Was there ever such a fellow?"
The train of pleasant thought was switched off at once, and Tom dreamed the scenes through which he had passed. His seizure by those rascals, his impressment, and what had followed. Then a second figure thrust itself into the arena, and swept across his sluggish brain. It was that of a short man, of middle age, prone to stoutness; clean shaven, with features which attracted because of the obvious power they displayed, features set off by a pair of wonderfully steady and penetrating eyes that spoke of firmness of purpose, of ambition soaring to the heights, and – yes – of a relentless spirit which strove at the attainment of any and every object at whatever cost. It was Napoleon, Napoleon Bonaparte, the one-time Corporal, the Little Corsican, he who had attained to the throne of France, and now, spurred on by a restless ambition, sought to see himself emperor of all countries, ruler of Spain through his brother, now known as King Joseph, King of Portugal, and even the Lord of England. A crashing detonation brought Tom to his feet with a start, wide-eyed, and very much awake.
"What's that?" he demanded, scarcely able to believe even now that he had been dreaming. Still, the presence of the trooper standing sentry at the door, and his obvious freedom from anxiety, reassured him. Ah, there was another detonation, and then a long-drawn-out rumble!
"A summer storm, monsieur," said the trooper. "It will be a fine day yet, and the storm will clear the air. It gets light rapidly, and in a little while we shall be able to see the pigs who have attacked us."
But Tom was thinking of something else beside the Portuguese peasants who sought to kill the little band of troopers, together with himself and his English companions. His thoughts suddenly turned to the urgent need of supplies. Water was wanted; it was running to waste outside.
"Andrews!" he shouted, and at the order the stalwart rifleman stumbled forward, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Howeley being close behind him. In the dim light of the coming day they drew themselves erect as if by force of habit, and saluted, Howeley taking time by his comrade.
"Sir!" they answered in one voice.
"We want water. Hunt round to find some roof gutter and a tub, if there is such a thing. Get us a store somehow; it means life or death to us. I'll see to other matters."
He saw the two set off at once, and then clambered up the steep flight of stone steps that led to the ledge above the broken door of the church. Standing upright there, he looked out towards the village, and found that he could already see the nearer houses. But a mist was rising, which, together with the heavy rain that was falling, made seeing rather difficult. Then, turning sharply to the left, he entered the room which the trooper had reported on the previous evening. The man lay at the entrance, with a comrade beside him, both sunk in deep sleep. But at Tom's coming they rose swiftly.
"It was too dark to explore last night," said one of them, "but monsieur can see now that this is not only a church. There is a large building attached to it, perhaps the house occupied by the pastor. But it is empty, I think, for we have heard no sounds from it."
"Then we will investigate," answered Tom. "Stay here, one of you, while you," and he indicated the man who had spoken, "bring your carbine and come with me. It is already light enough to see where we are going."
Crossing the floor of the room, Tom found it lumbered with masses of stone and with builders' tools. It was clear, in fact, that some sort of work was in progress. There was an arched doorway at the far end that gave admission to a hall, or meeting place, from which steps led to rooms above, all scantily furnished.
"The pastor's house without a doubt," said Tom. "Next thing is to see what's underneath. A larder crammed with food would be more to my liking than any amount of furniture. Here's the stairway. It's dark; mind how we go."
Very carefully and silently they descended the stairs, and soon found themselves in a flagged passage. Doors opened upon it, and, pushing them wide in turn, Tom discovered living-rooms fully furnished, though the articles within were covered with sheets.
"A regular spring cleaning," he said to the trooper, with a grin that set the Gallic warrior smiling widely. "It's clear that the pastor has gone away while workmen have possession of the house. But – my uncle! – that's a larder, and here's the kitchen."
No one but those who have experienced it know the delight a soldier on service finds in the discovery of dainties. Rations are apt to pall after a while, and men long for the trifles which are commonly to be found upon the tables of those who lead a more peaceful existence. And here was a find. The careful housewife of the pastor, his housekeeper, or whoever saw to his material wants, had set by a store at the sight of which Tom's mouth watered.
"My uncle!" he exclaimed again, running his eye along a row of preserves neatly bottled, and surveying a dozen hams hanging to hooks in a ceiling beam. "But – " and at the word his jovial face fell and lengthened till it was like a fiddle. "But they ain't ours to take – eh?"
The trooper grinned widely. He was an old soldier, and though he may have had his scruples, a limited diet for the past few weeks, and a gnawing at his stomach now, swept all scruples aside.
"Monsieur then prefers to starve with plenty beneath his nose?" he asked politely, drawing himself up and shouldering his carbine, so that the muzzle struck the low ceiling violently. "Parbleu! There is reason why we should eat these good things, monsieur. But for the pigs who hem us in, and for their hatred of us, we could step outside and buy what is required. That is so, monsieur?"
"Exactly," came the crisp answer, while Tom still surveyed the good things hungrily.
"But we cannot set out for the market. These pigs send bullets at us instead of food. That being so, vraiment, monsieur, surely here comes in a law of nature. To live one must eat. Here, then, is the wherewithal to obey that law."
The rascal grounded his weapon with a resonant bang, and put his nose within an inch of one of the hams.
"Ready cooked – meant to be eaten," he gasped. "Monsieur will – "
Tom's courage and scruples broke down under such subtle temptation. Besides, here it was a case of necessity. He took the ham from its hook, caught up a bag of dried biscuit, and then gave an inquisitive kick to a huge barrel, getting back a dull, telling sound.
"Full to the bung, monsieur– the wine of the country. Something with which to slake our thirst, and so enable us to defeat the enemy."
"Send for two of the troopers at once," said Tom. "Let them remove the contents of the larder to the room above. But, wait. Let us complete our investigations."
When they had at length been over the whole of the premises they had come to the conclusion that the house had at one time been a clergy house, and had harboured many people; for at the far end of the passage they found a door admitting to still more rooms, and then to an enormous yard, about which was a high wall. A pair of huge doors led from this beneath an archway, supporting a portion of what proved to be stables, in which were a couple of nags, while the eager trooper discovered stores of hay and corn in a loft adjoining.
"And a water trough and pump in the yard," cried Tom, delighted at such a find. "There you are, water in plenty," he added, working the pump and sending a gushing torrent pouring from the ancient spout.
The discovery they had made was, indeed, of the greatest moment; but it brought this in its train: it compelled the leader of the defenders to make up his mind whether to vacate quarters which had, so far, proved an excellent refuge, or whether to hold to them, trusting to procure provisions and water from the clergy house so closely adjacent. It was characteristic of Tom, perhaps, that before the trooper had time to ask the question, he had come to a decision.
"Listen," he said peremptorily. "The windows of this place all face into the yard. You saw no others?"
"None: it is as monsieur describes."
"And the wall outside the place, surrounding the yard, is so high that a man must use a ladder to ascend and descend."
"Vraiment, monsieur; otherwise he would be crushed as if he were an egg."
"Then we change quarters. Leave the ham and come along. Wait, though – get the key of the doors leading into the yard. See if you can open them."
The trooper dashed away, and in a trice came back, widely grinning.
"They were in the lock, monsieur," he reported. "All, in fact, was in readiness for us. It is clear that the Portuguese expected our coming, and prepared us a welcome!"
"Stand by the doors: open when you hear our men coming."
Tom went off at his fastest pace, and was soon scrambling down on to the floor of the church. A glance outside told him that rain was still falling, while an occasional clap of thunder warned him that the storm was still at hand. But there were figures over by the village; half a dozen men stood in a bunch, and the light was now so strong that one could see that they were armed.
"Fall in," shouted Tom; and at once the men came tumbling forward, and lined up in front of him. Very rapidly, then, Tom told off half their number to fetch the horses. The others he again divided, posting three men above the doorway, four behind the carcass of the horse, while the rest were told off to carry Mr. Riley and Jack. Very rapidly he explained in French what he was about to do.
"When we have the horses ready," he said, "pull this carcass aside, and then let those in charge lead the beasts down the steps and direct to the left. Turn sharp to the left again at the end of a wall and you will come to a doorway; lead them in there. Now, hasten. Those fellows beyond there are merely waiting for the rain to cease. We shall be in clover, and eating a substantial breakfast, my lads – yes, for I have discovered a store of provisions – before the enemy guess what is happening."
Soldiers are not the class of individuals to be upset by surprise. A constantly changing life such as a campaign brings accustoms them to quick and unexpected changes. Moreover, here they had confidence in the young Englishman who had so suddenly taken command of the party. There was, therefore, not so much as a question. In less than five minutes all were ready, while Mr. Riley was by then halfway up the steep flight of steps leading to the house. Andrews stood beside the carcass of the horse, the perspiration streaming from him; for he had raced round the church and inspected every corner.
"Ready, sir?" he asked.
Tom nodded.
"Then heave," called Andrews, tugging at one of the legs of the dead animal. The troopers threw themselves upon the carcass at once, and in a trice it had been dragged aside.
"Now out with them 'ere horses," commanded Andrews hoarsely. "Beg pardon, sir, but I don't know what you're up to. This is certain though: there's not a drop of water in the church."
"There's heaps where we're going," answered Tom laconically. "Heaps."
"And grub, beggin' pardon again, sir?"
"Could you eat ham, well-cooked ham, Andrews?" asked Tom, without a smile.
"Ham! Bust me – !" began the rifleman.
"And preserves. Perhaps the wine of Portugal wouldn't be good enough for you, though. There's at least one barrel of it where we're going."
Andrews' eyes shone with expectation. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Food and drink, sir," he gasped, as if the news were too good. "Plenty of it, too. Why – bust me! – "
He could get no further than that expression; it conveyed his whole meaning. But the eyes which looked Tom Clifford up and down an instant later had, if possible, just a little more respect in them.
"If he don't walk right off with the palm," spluttered the rifleman. "Here's he, a civilian – yes, a civilian – and he jest takes this little lot by the hand as you might say, and shepherds them. When there's trouble with the peasants, he sets about and gives 'em proper snuff. And when things is getting queer, and grub's scare, and water run clean out, why here he makes a man dance with news of hams – yes, hams he did say – and wine – why, it's Wellington hisself couldn't have done better!"
Two by two the horses went clattering down the steps of the church and out into the open. Shouts came from the direction of the village, while other figures joined those bunched together in the rain. Splashes of flame and loud reports showed that shots were being fired; but still the procession of horses came from the church. When all were out, there were, perhaps, fifty of the enemy watching and firing, while others came rushing from the houses. It appeared, too, as if they expected the troopers to mount at once and gallop away; for horns sounded in the distance, while men went dashing in all directions, as if to warn outlying parties to close in and surround the troopers. Perched now on the ledge over the doorway, Tom watched as the horses were led along beside the wall, and saw them swing round the corner. He waited three minutes, when a trooper came dashing to him through the room which was littered with masons' tools and implements.
"Monsieur, all the horses are in the yard; the doors are shut."
"Then let two of you take charge of the forage, not forgetting that it must last a week at least. Feed the horses and water them."
"Mr. Riley's safe in bed in one o' the rooms yonder, as snug as ef he was aboard his own ship, sir," reported Howeley, arriving on the scene now, and grinning his delight. "Mr. Barwood's ditto, a cussin', sir, 'cos he says as he's fit fer duty."
"Feed them," answered Tom. "You'll find the larder below; take charge of it, Howeley. I make you responsible for all it contains; but carry something to the two officers promptly. Now, Andrews," he said, as that worthy came towards him, "let's clear the church of all our traps. There are saddle bags and other things to bring with us; there's the ammunition also."
"Cleared, sir," reported the rifleman, delight showing in every feature. "I thought as you'd enough and too much to see to, and so I give them Frenchies orders. They're quick to hop, are them froggies. It's friends, not enemies, we ought to be. But the church is clear, sir; there's a dead horse left, and a few of the peasants as was too inquisitive."
"Then we'll get to breakfast," said Tom heartily. "You've recalled the man from the tower?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then post one of the troopers on this ledge, and come along. Something to eat will put us all in a good temper and fit us for the trouble that's brewing. Those peasants don't seem yet to have gathered what we are up to. But, in a little while, when they have guessed at our move, they'll be swarming this way. Here we are. Across this hall and down the stairs. Ah, there's Howeley – well?"
"Taking food to the orficers, sir," grinned the latter, appearing in the doorway of the larder with some fine slices of ham and a jug of wine, while a second plate was loaded with biscuit. "There's a store here, sir, as would make the whiskers of a commissariat serjeant curl, sir – so it would! There's ham, biscuit, jam, cheese, flour, and what not. This here ruction's put us into clover."
It took perhaps half an hour for Tom's party to settle down in their new quarters; because, first of all, there were the wounded officers and the horses to attend to. For the former Howeley had already done service, so that when Tom, relieved of all immediate anxiety, went upstairs to them, he found his two comrades stretched on a pair of comfortable beds, the naval lieutenant brimming over with good humour, and Jack just swallowing his anger at the sight of the food which the rifleman had brought.
"Of all the wretched bits of luck I ever struck this is the worst," he declared, managing, however, to bury his teeth in a fine, thick slice of ham. "Here am I, crocked up because of a bullet fired by some peasant fool from a blunderbus, and you, Tom, having all the fun. It's wretched luck; everything's wrong. Why, there's not even – "
What his next grumble would have been it is difficult to imagine, but Mr. Riley cut him short with loud laughter.
"Everything's wrong, Tom, my lad," he laughed heartily, holding up a slice of ham as big as that held by Jack. "Here we are, stretched on wretchedly comfortable beds, when we ought to be lying on stone flags which are really helpful when a man wishes to sleep. And we've grub too – grub, when we ought to be without rations. But the most serious part of the whole affair is that while we've really quite decent ham to eat, fair wine to drink, and hard biscuit to chew, we've no mustard to go with the ham. I protest, sir! It's a real hardship."
That set them all laughing, till the gallant lieutenant choked and became crimson, and put his hand to his side with a cry of pain. Jack sat up, his eyes shining, his teeth occupied with another bite. Howeley, ever mindful of discipline, stood rigidly at attention, his jaws moving from side to side as he strove to prevent himself from joining in the merriment.
"Well, I'm hanged!" was all that Jack could at length deliver himself of. "This is clover! Have some, Tom?"
They made a merry meal there, our hero seated on the edge of Jack's bed; and much they enjoyed the fare which good fortune had provided. Howeley, meanwhile, with Andrews and the rest of the men were discussing an equally satisfying meal, the first-named having, at Tom's wish, taken over the supply department. Horses had by then been watered, and were now tied to rings ranged along the wall of the yard, munching contentedly at heaps of hay placed at their heads for them.
"Sapristi! But I never saw the like before," ventured one grizzled trooper, taking to his pipe when he had finished his own meal, and levelling his remarks at Andrews. "Never before!"
"Right!" ejaculated Andrews. "Très bien!" for he had picked up an odd word or two of the language. "Proper sort, ain't he?"
"Mais, he is remarkable," went on the man in his own language, since he knew no other. "See us yesterday. We are surrounded. We are hemmed in by a thousand wild beasts; our captain is killed; our serjeants are biting the dust. We ourselves are like lost sheep. And he, this youth, he leads us to the church, where there is nothing – nothing, mark you, comrade, but stone walls and floors. Now look at us! We live in luxury. The horses are content. This youth laughs with his comrades as if a Portuguese cut-throat did not exist, and as if the British army was within hearing. He is a second Bonaparte."
It was praise of our hero, coming from the lips of a Frenchman, and Andrews endorsed the remarks with vehemence. Not that he understood what was said. He gathered merely that compliments were flying with regard to our hero, and stanchly supported him.
"He's a toff, he is," he answered, stretching himself at his ease, and drawing at his pipe. "A chip of the old block. He's jest British to the backbone, from the soles of his feet right up to the crown of his head. I'll punch the face of any as dares to say that I'm a liar."
The threat was accompanied by a gleam of the eye that had warned enemies of the riflemen before then; and the Frenchman, with the quickness and perception of his race, must have followed closely, for he jerked himself nearer the rifleman in his enthusiasm, gripped him by both hands, and would have embraced him, had not Andrews, with true British dislike of a scene of such a description, put him firmly aside.
"None o' yer monkey tricks fer me," he called out. "But I'm with you all the while. Here's my hand on it."
At that moment a loud report aroused the garrison. Tom appeared at the entrance to the courtyard, and at once, as if by agreement, the troopers formed line, and drew themselves up as if for an inspection. Tom emerged into the courtyard at once – for the rain had ceased now for some while – and slowly inspected his men.
"We've had a good breakfast," he said, with a smile which went far to put heart into the troopers. "Now we've to work for the next meal. The peasants are approaching. We must get to our stations; and remember, please, fire as seldom as possible. This siege may last a week yet, so ammunition is most important. An hour ago water and food were most in request; you have both now. Then look carefully after the only other commodity that matters."
They broke their ranks at once, and went to their stations, for each had been allotted one. Two men stood guard on the ledge above the doorway of the church, crouching so that those below could not see them. The room behind contained half a dozen more figures, with Andrews to command them. Elsewhere, in the room over the doorway leading into the courtyard were Howeley and three men, while the remainder watched from the upper windows which faced the yard, ready at a call to go in either direction.
As for the enemy, they appeared in swarms, tramping from the village, armed with every sort of weapon. Crouching on the ledge above the church door Tom watched their approach with some amount of curiosity, wondering what they would do, and whether they suspected the change which had taken place so early in the morning. Then he noticed a dozen men detach themselves from the mob, and move out before them. They halted when some fifty paces from their friends and laid down their weapons. Then they advanced again till within easy speaking distance of the church door. Tom at once rose to his full height, the sight of his figure drawing shouts from the mob in the background. Then there was silence.
"We come as a deputation," said one of the little band who had advanced. "We come to speak to the Englishman."
"I am here; what do you want?" answered our hero promptly.
"We bear a message. The elders of the village and the leaders of the peasants again make you an offer. You are free to leave the place with your four English comrades. An escort will be allowed, and you will be taken to the nearest camp. You may carry arms and your personal possessions. Refuse, and you shall be slaughtered with the hated Frenchmen whom we are sworn to kill."
"Then take my answer," called Tom loudly. "Two of my comrades are hurt, and cannot move, so that we could not accept your terms. Even so, we would refuse. Now take warning from me again. We have shown you that we can fight, and we are all the more ready for trouble now that day has come and we have slept. Go to the nearest camp and send troops to us. The Frenchmen shall then become prisoners. Those are the only terms we will agree to."
"Then you will not take freedom and safety for yourself?" asked the spokesman.
"I will not," came the short answer.
"Then you shall live but a little while to regret such action. To-night we will hoist the heads of every one of you to the tower of the church. You are a bigger fool than I thought you."
He turned about with his fellows and retreated. They picked up their arms and joined their comrades, when a loud discussion followed. Then once more the forward move was continued, Tom and his men watching as a mob five hundred strong bore down upon the building.
"I see ladders amongst them," said Andrews of a sudden, peering over our hero's shoulder. "That looks as if they would attempt to climb the wall of the yard. Then they guess where we've got to."
The next few minutes showed that the enemy were fully alive to the situation. They steered away from the door of the church, a few on the flank alone advancing toward it. The remainder surrounded the yard and the house, and, a shot having been fired by one as a signal, all rushed in to the attack, the ladder bearers winning their way to the wall without difficulty, while a chosen band made an onslaught upon the doors which gave entrance.
