Kitabı oku: «With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula», sayfa 9

CHAPTER IX
Hard Pressed

"Stand back so that they cannot see you," commanded Tom, as the peasants rushed madly at the entrance of the church that the troopers had defended so gallantly on the previous evening, and above which they were now stationed. "There is no need for us to risk their bullets yet. Let them climb, and then we will use our spears again and teach them that, if anything, we are in a stronger position."

The advice came in time to save many a wound without shadow of doubt; for while two or three hundred of the maddened Portuguese had swarmed along the walls of the house, and turning the corner abruptly had then made a fierce onslaught on the gate leading into the yard, or were endeavouring to clamber to the top of the wall, an almost equal number had selected the church door for their own particular effort. They came on at the double, brandishing an assortment of strange weapons, weapons which, though they were not similar to those carried by the troops, and had seen many and many a summer, and, in fact, were wont to be used more often in the peaceful employment of agriculture, were still capable of giving terrible wounds, wielded as they were by men who seemed actually to be maddened by the sight of the defenders. The affair in which Tom and his friends found themselves so strangely and unexpectedly mixed was, indeed, one of those sad exhibitions of savagery to be met with, alas! in time of war, when such war is accompanied by atrocities. Knowing something of the history of this Peninsula campaign, and guessing at the rest, Tom could realize that the Portuguese peasant had suffered severely at the hands of vindictive troops who had been given a more or less free hand. The French bore an unenviable reputation for rapine, and history tells clearly that while the Spaniards had no very great cause of complaint, the Portuguese were often enough horribly treated. And at this time, when the French were slowly being forced in front of our armies towards the Portuguese frontier, driven in spite of their numbers out of a country they had sworn to hold, the atrocities committed were many. They did not stop at burning villages and ruining crops. Defenceless people were killed and horribly illtreated. Even the women and children were subjected to violence. And here was a direct result. One could hardly blame the peasants. Reprisals, terrible reprisals when the opportunity came, were but a natural sequence to violence.

"I have known these brutes waylay the rearguard of two battalions marching north, and capture everyone," said a trooper who was close to Tom, craning his head so as to see the mob from over the edge of the parapet. "Yes, monsieur, I have known them to capture a hundred men, and when the news reached us, and we, a full regiment of cavalry, galloped to the spot, we found every one of our brothers murdered, done to death by torture. Vraiment! It made our blood boil. It makes us fight now till there is not a breath left in us."

Tom sighed. It was not often that he indulged in such a melancholy act; but the thing saddened him. In the midst of an attack it is true that he could forget the reasons for it, could almost forget the nationality of the enemy, but in his more serene moments he could not help but see the fact that these were but peasants, and that their rage and hatred were natural. Nevertheless, to allow them to chop himself and his little command to pieces because the French had earned reprisals was a very different matter. Self-preservation is one of the first laws ingrafted in us, and in Tom it was acutely displayed.

"Keep lower, my friend," he warned the trooper. "Ah! They have rushed into the church, perhaps hoping that we have left a comrade or two there. Soon they will try the steps, and then there will be a hubbub. Stand back, you men with the spears; and recollect, no shots, no wasting ammunition. Beat them back with the spears or with your sabres. Now, I will go to see how the others fare."

He left the faithful Andrews in charge of the party, and, passing into the clergy house, popped his head into the room occupied a little while before by Jack and Mr. Riley. They were gone; it was evident that they had risen. Pushing on, he came to the windows commanding the yard, and there discovered the truants.

"What's this?" he demanded somewhat curtly.

"Disobeying orders," smiled Mr. Riley, while Jack looked his friend up and down for a few seconds, as if he resented interference, and then grinned widely.

"Never did see such a cormorant, sir," he said, addressing the naval lieutenant. "Here he is; he gets up a row with these poor peasants, bottles us in bed, and expects us to stay there. Not if I know it!"

Jack hopped on one leg to the far window, steadied himself there, and then slowly lifted a carbine which he had managed to secure.

"You go along and see to the defence generally, lad," cried Mr. Riley, slapping our hero on the back. "Jack and I couldn't be expected to stay in that room when such an attack was being made. You leave us in charge of this part of the defences, and even if we can't do much, we can at least encourage the men and see that all goes well. It will leave you free to arrange other matters. Ah! The beggars have managed to get to the top of the wall; they've failed once at the gate."

The attack on the latter had, in fact, been easily driven off; for the little room built over it projected a couple of feet beyond the face of the wall, and was provided with a wide door and a trap, while a wooden crane swung outside. It was, therefore, a matter of no great difficulty to open the trap and fire directly down upon the attackers, while Howeley, the energetic commander of the post, had already contrived to gather a respectable number of paving stones from the yard below, and with these had beaten down the attackers.

"Made 'em hop mighty quick, sir," he said. "There must have been twenty dozen of the beggars, all as mad as hatters. But even mad people feel blows when landed on their heads. You can see what happened."

Tom peeped through the trap. Down at the foot of the gate were three peasants prone and still, while two more were slowly crawling away. At a distance of fifty feet there was a bunch of a hundred, eyeing the gateway with savage looks, and discussing the situation hoarsely. Then some went away at a run, returning in less than five minutes with a long beam.

"Going to try a battering ram," said Tom, rather scared at the sight.

"We'll give 'em battering," came the reassuring words from the rifleman.

"I've two men posted down in the yard with their carbines, and we've knocked a couple of holes in the gates. If we can't reach the enemy from above here, the boys below can manage. They've filled up their barrels with pebbles scraped up from between the paving stones. The shots will scare the peasants same as if they was birds."

A glance at the sturdy fellow showed that he had no fears with regard to his own particular defences, and, staying there a moment, Tom had full reason to trust him; for the mob outside were in such temper that delay was out of the question. Some fifty of their number began to fire at the gateway and at the trapdoor above, while their comrades picked up the huge beam and advanced at a run, shouting loudly to encourage one another. Crash! went the end of the beam against the gates, shaking them severely. Then came the clatter of stones. Standing well above the attackers, Howeley and his two troopers advanced in turn, elevated a paving stone, took careful aim, and then threw it downwards. With a shout of terror the attackers promptly retired. A minute later, however, they came forward again at a run, and on this occasion a dozen of their number bore muskets. Stationing themselves in such position that they could fire through the open trap, they sent their bullets thudding into the ceiling of the room, making it impossible for Howeley and his men to take effective aim. Meanwhile the others ran in, and, picking up their beam, swung it backward in preparation for another blow.

"Jest you keep on tossing them stones over," commanded Howeley, as if the troopers could understand every word. "Savvy, me lads? Don't show up, but jest lift a stone same as this, standing well back, and heave it through. It'll hit something."

It did. A howl from below, and a chorus of shouts and cries greeted the stone, while one of the men holding the beam fell as if struck by a poleaxe.

"Savvy?" asked Howeley curtly.

"Bien!" came the equally curt answer.

"Then jest you look to it."

Howeley went off as if he were provided with wings, and a moment or two later Tom heard him shouting to the troopers down in the yard.

"Jest give 'em mustard," he bellowed. "You've got that, me lads? Mustard's the stuff they're wanting. Let in at 'em."

A loud roar followed his words instantly, and then a second. Smoke billowed up through the trap, while a torrent of yells and cries came from the mob. Tom glanced over the edge, to find the beam lying on the ground and the attackers in full flight, save for those struck down by the slugs and bullets which had been discharged at them.

However, the fury of a mob is a thing to tremble at. The poor wretches outside came on again, bearing a ladder, and in a trice the latter was safely wedged in the open trap. Desperate men swarmed on to it, and it looked as if there would soon be a contest at the top. But Howeley's paving stones were irresistible. They swept the rungs of the ladder clean, and in less than a minute the ladder was tossed down and the frantic enemy was in full retreat.

"Well done!" cried Tom, delighted at the success gained in this quarter, but sorry, nevertheless, for the peasants. "I can leave you here knowing that all will be well. What's that?"

He went racing back to the windows occupied by Jack and the naval officer, to discover that a commotion had suddenly arisen in the yard over by the far containing wall. The tops of a dozen ladders could be seen against the skyline, perched against the outside of the wall, while the broad summit of the latter was thickly covered with defiant peasants. They clustered thickly along the top, some firing their muskets at the figures in the window. Others had managed to drag up two ladders, and having dropped these into the yard were now swarming down.

"Into the yard!" shouted Tom at once, leading the way downstairs at a run, and dashing outside where the horses were quartered. He was joined by a dozen troopers within a few seconds, who all raced across the yard, their sabres swinging in their hands. One of their number, a light horseman by the look of him, outdistanced his fellows, and gripping one of the ladders dragged it aside with all his force, and sent it thudding into the yard with a couple of the peasants upon it. But a dozen and more of the latter had contrived to descend the second ladder, and at once there began a desperate hand-to-hand contest, pikes and scythes being opposed to sabres.

"Hold them, lads!" came in stentorian tones from Mr. Riley, in spite of his wound. "Hold them for a little, Tom. We'll have the other boys along in a jiffy."

Stamping with impatience because common sense and lack of strength told him that he himself was unfit to join in the mêlée, and, in fact, even to clamber down the steps, the naval lieutenant put to good purpose a stentorian voice trained in a service where lung power is required, and where the weakling is useless. In spite of the roar of the mob Andrews and Howeley heard him, and, rallying in his direction, went headlong down the stairs, with a number of their fellows with them. They arrived just in time to stem the tide of invasion. The ladder still remaining upright, and loaded with peasants scrambling to the help of their comrades, was thrown down by a couple of the troopers. And then, for the space of five minutes perhaps, there was a fierce struggle in the yard. The troopers at a shout from Tom separated themselves and formed a ring round the invaders, while the latter, taken aback now that they found themselves cut off from all help by their comrades, retired towards the wall, their scythes held well in front of them, their eyes furtively seeking for some hole or corner which would give them security.

"Hold!" cried Tom loudly, anxious to save unnecessary bloodshed. "You men keep your formation. Now," he went on sternly, addressing the Portuguese in their own tongue, "I give you a moment in which to lay down your arms, promising on the word of an Englishman that you shall not be injured. Answer."

With a sullen clang the peasants tossed their arms to the pavement, and stood glowering at the troopers, fearful yet whether they would be murdered.

"Form into line, two abreast," commanded Tom again. "Howeley, just get to your post and tell us if the enemy are near. I'm going to eject these fellows."

He waited till there came a hail from the rifleman.

"All clear, sir," he shouted. "Them fellers has had a stomachful and has cleared."

"Then get below and make ready to open one of the gates. My lads," he said, addressing the troopers, who regarded their prisoners with no very friendly looks, "these men have thrown down their arms on my promise that they shall go unharmed. You will march beside them to the gate and stand about in case of a rally. Pick up your wounded and killed," he called to the peasants. "You will march straight across to the gate, and will pass out without attempting violence. Any man who disobeys will be killed instantly. Let this be a lesson to you. Go to your comrades and tell them that we are well able to defend ourselves, and that it would be better far for them and all if they left us alone. Now, march."

Looking forlorn and frightened, and regarding the troopers with eyes which showed even now, though rather cowed, their hatred of them, the peasants picked up their comrades, of whom a number had fallen, and bore them to the gate. Two minutes later they were gone, wending their way from the defences sadly, and in different spirit from that which had filled them a little while before. Crash went the gate. Howeley threw the bar into position and turned the key.

"Well done!" came from the window above in loud tones. "Well done all of you!"

Glancing up, Tom saw the jovial naval lieutenant waving eagerly to him, while close at hand was Jack's grinning and perspiring face. He was actually shaking a fist at our hero.

"Lucky brute!" he growled in a voice so quaint, and with such queer grimaces, that even the French troopers could see the humour.

"Lucky brute to be able to hop about and take part in all these skirmishes. Wouldn't I give something to be in your shoes."

"And right well ye'd do, sir, begging pardon," came from Andrews, whom the contest had worked up to a degree of excitement. "But it's well for us all that Mr. Clifford's here, begging pardon, sir."

"Well said," shouted Mr. Riley. "Ah, I wish to goodness I could talk French! I'd make a speech in Tom's favour. I'd call for cheers."

"Then here's three cheers fer Mr. Tom," came from Andrews in bellowing tones, cheers in which the troopers joined lustily, for they fully understood the gist of what was passing.

"And now?" asked Mr. Riley, wiping the perspiration from his face. "Now, Tom, after that precious near squeak?"

"Any damage done?" asked our hero at once. He ran his eyes over the troopers, and soon discovered that four had been wounded, though, fortunately, none of the wounds were severe.

"Then pitch those ladders up against the wall again and look about for a strong plank. We'll make a bit of a platform above, where we can post a few men. They'll be able to keep others of the peasants from trying the same game. How are things passing at the church door?"

An inspection there proved that the enemy had retreated, though doubtless some of them were within the church. However, for the moment at least, the bulk of the mob had gone, and Tom took advantage of the lull to make his preparations for feeding the defenders. The kitchen fire was soon roaring up the chimney, while outside, in the yard, there was another blaze. A trooper, booted and spurred, and stripped to his shirt, bent over a huge basin perched on a low wooden table, and sturdily pummelled a mass of dough. Near at hand stood another, stripped like his fellow, thrusting his long moustaches upward toward his eyes.

"Nom de nomme, but this is soldiering!" he was saying to his comrade, as he added handfuls of flour from an open sack. "This is what a man can call campaigning."

"Eh? Ah!" the other grunted. "Mais pourquoi?"

"Hear him!" came the astonished answer, while the trooper held a floury hand aloft as if to show his amazement. "He asks why, when the reason is plain. Dites donc, mon fou; is it so often, then, that we fight under the eye and command of an English garçon? Poof! That is the charm of the thing. I tell you, yesterday I said to myself: 'Pierre, you will be chopped to pieces before the sun comes up to-morrow. You and your comrades will be but mince meat.'"

The man kneading the dough shivered and grunted his disapproval. "Gently, comrade," he growled. "You will spoil the tart I am making. What then?"

"What then? He asks what then? See here, mon brave, we have fighting, heaps of it, and it is the peasants – poor fools! – who are chopped to pieces. We have excitement and work fit for a soldier, I say, and, with it all, see also what we get. Ah! I smell meat cooking, and here is something that we have not seen for many a long day."

He went clanking his spurs across to a corner where the watchful Howeley had deposited a huge jar of jam, and came staggering back with it. The two men took the pan from the low table, lifted the dough from it, and, having thickly dusted the table top with flour, laid their dough upon it. Then came the task of rolling.

"Try that, mate," suggested Howeley, who was now watching the proceedings with a grin of expectation. "Wasn't meant for the job; but beggars can't be choosers."

He offered the barrel of an old firelock, the butt and lock of which had gone, and the trooper took it with a flourish. Dusting it well, like the table, he rolled the dough with the hand of an expert, and, having satisfied himself that his work was nearly finished, he pinched a corner from the dough and handed it to the rifleman.

"Try," he grunted.

"Real fine!" answered the Cockney. "I'm waiting for this here pie to get finished."

"Then the jam, Pierre."

The second trooper let it fall from the jar into the species of basin which his comrade had now contrived within a shallow pan, and watched as the latter smoothed it down with a wooden ladle. On went the covering of dough, while the cook with skilled eye and hand marked the edges of the pie, dividing it into as many sections as there were defenders.

"Now," he cried, "to the kitchen with it. If we are to be cut to fragments this evening, at noon we will at least dine like gentlemen. Take it, Pierre, and see that you do not get it burned. Then indeed would your punishment be terrible."

Such rejoicing as there was over that meal! Divided into three separate messes, the defenders ate slices of frizzled ham in the recesses of the room above the doorway of the church. Others again washed down the food with liberal allowances of the wine of the country, looking about them through the door opening above the gateway of the yard, while Jack and Mr. Riley held a reception in the corridor from which windows opened into the yard, and there discussed the good things sent them with many a jest and laugh. Yes, the spirits of the defenders were wonderfully buoyant. And why not?

"Why be miserable while we're alive?" asked Jack, cramming a piece of that wonderful tart into his mouth; for, even if he were wounded, Jack could still show a remarkably undiminished appetite.

"First there's ham, and then there's jam," he sang, till another mouthful kept him silent.

"Indeed, why not be jolly?" chimed in Mr. Riley. "Here we are all tight and weatherproof, as you might say. What's there to grumble at? But, seriously, how on earth is this matter to end? Those peasants have drawn off for the moment; but will they retire from the contest for good? Eh? Now, sir, what's the answer?"

Tom flushed at being addressed in such a manner, and munched steadily at his food. But his deep-set eyes wore a far-away look which showed that he was thinking.

"Eh?" asked Jack, prodding him with the prong of a broken fork discovered in the kitchen. "Do we draw off as victors, receiving well-deserved promotion for this – er – this – shall we say, gallant action? or shall we, in fact – ?"

"Be paid the compliment of appearing in the Gazette as 'missing'? My word, that would be hard luck after such a business! Now, Tom?"

"More pie," said the latter deliberately. "Whilst we live we'll eat. But who can say what'll happen? We've given those poor fellows a regular drubbing; but I don't believe they've done with us. I don't like this drawing off, and the silence we now have; it means mischief. I'd give a heap to know what they are up to."

Once the meal was finished, and the horses' wants seen to, the defenders of the place occupied themselves in a hundred different ways. Some cleaned their carbines and burnished their scabbards; others indulged in the luxury of a wash at the pump in the yard; while Tom, on whom the responsibility of everything depended, walked slowly from one end to the other of the defences.

"I'd give a heap to be able to guess rightly what the enemy are up to," he said, for perhaps the tenth time, to Andrews, who seemed to haunt his side. "One sees little or nothing of them."

"Next to nothing, sir," agreed the rifleman, with knitted brows. "But they ain't up to no good, I'm sure of it. You can see 'em come from the village at times and stare over here at us. Then they'll disappear again, while boys and young men scuttle about, and carry armfuls of something that I ain't sure of at this distance. There's been knocking, too, in the church."

"Hum!" Tom pondered over the information. He listened acutely, for he was just at the edge of the platform above the church door. But from that position, indeed from any position held by the defenders, it was impossible to look into the place. Yes, there was knocking, coming from the interior of the church, and —

"I heard a heavy fall, as if stones had been dislodged!" he exclaimed. "Come down below with me, Andrews."

They ran to the stairs, and scuttled down at their fastest pace. Making their way along the corridor they were soon at the kitchen, and then entered a storeroom beyond. It had been ransacked by Howeley and his helpers, and had provided an ample supply of good things. But it was not the contents of the room that interested Tom; it was the wall, the party wall, on the far side of which was the church.

"Listen," he said. "There!"

A glance at the rifleman's face was sufficient to show that he, too, had gathered the full meaning of those blows.

"Can't get at us by fair means, as you might say, sir," he grunted, "so they're agoing to break through the wall. It'll be a teaser to hold 'em if they once get through."

"Couldn't be done," agreed Tom. "There's not room enough here for more than four men. We should be driven back into the yard, and, of course, an attack would be made in other quarters. It is a teaser!"

His face was drawn and stern as he retraced his footsteps, and stopped to discuss the situation with Mr. Riley.

"Of course we could pile all the bales and boxes we could find against this side of the wall," he said. "But that would not help us; the peasants would pull them into the church. There's no way of blocking up the passage either, and the difficulty of the situation seems to be this: we have now another place to defend, and no men to spare for the work. I think we shall have to try a sortie."

"Or retire up here and hold on to the last," said the naval lieutenant, his face serious. "But they'd smoke us out, or burn the whole place over our heads. I know well the temper of such men as these. Harmless enough as a general rule, but demons now that they are roused. They've suffered frightfully at the hands of the French, and they have made up their minds to retaliate in the best way they can. Well?"

"I'll see," answered Tom shortly. Turning on his heel, he went off with Andrews, and clattered down the stairs to the yard. Yes, there was nothing for it but to defend the upper story of the house, or —

"Or make for the church again," suggested Andrews, for our hero had spoken his thoughts aloud. "You could clear out those fellows who are working there in a twinkling, carry all the grub and wine in – and there you are, as good as ever you were, and better."

"But with a wall still," said Tom dryly. "They could come in here then, and knock the wall down just the same. We should have them pouring in through the church door and through this other opening. Still, there's a lot in the suggestion. Tell me, can you see anyone elsewhere than in and around the village?"

They had mounted to the top of the house, and could obtain a clear view. Both stared out in all directions, and kept silent for a few minutes.

"Heaps at the village, sir," reported Andrews after a while. "A few here and there, watching the surroundings. No big body of them anywheres as I can see."

"Nor I; let's get below."

As if bent on a purpose, Tom led the way to the yard, and then dived into the stable. There were the two nags they had seen when first they established themselves in the place, contentedly munching at the hay with which a thoughtful trooper had provided them. Tom pulled a door open and entered the cart shed.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "Two of them – light carts too. Call Howeley and his men."

The riflemen came plunging down at once, and stood at attention.

"Get the carts out and the horses harnessed in," Tom ordered. "When that's done, load one of the carts with food. We shan't want water or wine, though you can take a small cask of the latter. Don't overload. Now you, my friend," he went on, addressing one of the troopers, "hurry to the rooms above, and bring down a mattress and some blankets. Quick with it!"

"You're going to – beg pardon, sir," began Andrews, using his accustomed formula. "You ain't going to take French leave of them beauties! Never!"

His smile told of his delight, and of his agreement with the order.

"Take my compliments to Mr. Riley and your own officer, and help them both to descend," said Tom. "When they are safely in the cart on the mattress I have ordered, and armed, Andrews – "

"Yes, sir."

"And armed with carbines, you get to the top of the building and look about you carefully. If all's clear, let me know. Then slip down to join us. Now, I'll collect the other men."

Very silently and swiftly did the troopers obey his orders. At an earlier date they might very well have demurred and hesitated, delaying, perhaps, to discuss the matter; for why should they give obedience to one who was, nominally at least, their prisoner? But Tom had won their confidence, and that is a great thing where troops are concerned. They merely looked their surprise when ordered to repair to the yard and mount their horses, while the man posted over the church door bared his sabre, as if determined that no fault of his should allow a slinking peasant to mount secretly and discover the movement of the garrison.

"Wait till I call you," whispered Tom. "Then run down to the yard and mount your horse. You understand?"

The fellow grinned at him, a grin of interest and friendship.

"Parbleu! An enemy, he!" he grunted, spitting into the palm that gripped his sabre. "By all the fiends, but I, Jacques, would welcome the English as brothers."

The clatter of hoofs told of moving horses, or preparations down below. Not that it was likely to disturb the enemy, for the horses moved often enough, particularly when being watered. Men slipped silently from their defensive posts and crept into the yard, while a couple of brawny troopers bore the injured Jack to the cart, smiling serenely at his angry protestations.

"Treat me as if I were a child," he growled, as Tom came into hearing. "Who said I couldn't walk?"

"I'll leave you behind if you're a trouble," came the answer. "Fiddlesticks, Jack!"

"Or cut his diet down," laughed Mr. Riley, who already lay on the mattress placed on the cart. "That's it, my lad; cut his grub short. That'll make our Jack less fiery. What's up?"

"Going for an airing," came the answer. "Now, men," said our hero, addressing the troopers, who were mounted by now. "You'll fall in on either side of the carts, which will be driven by two selected by yourselves. Spare horses will be led by others. If I have it reported that the coast is clear, we will throw the gates open and ride out. A sharp trot once we reach the road will take us away from the village. After that – "

"After that, monsieur?" asked one of the men eagerly.

"We will see. You are prisoners at this moment just as much as we are. If we get through, perhaps we'll call it quits. You'll ride for the army of France, and we for our comrades."

That brought a grin of pleasure to the bronzed faces of the men. They would have cheered had not the need for silence been there. Instead, they picked up their reins, and fell in on either side of the carts, waiting for the signal to open the gates. Tom went back to the sentry he had posted over the church doorway.

"All clear," was the report. "There is still knocking."

"Then get to your horse and mount. I am following."

Tom clambered once more into the yard, and looked up at the window which Andrews occupied.

"All clear," came the gentle hail.

"Then fall in – time we were moving."

All were mounted within a minute, save Howeley, who stood at the gates. "Open," called Tom.

"Open it is, sir," said the rifleman, throwing the gates wide at once.

"Forward!"

Steadily, and without sign of undue haste, the cavalcade rode from the yard into the open, leaving a place which, though it had revictualled them and offered excellent cover, might, were they to hold it longer, lead to disaster. They moved away into the open in regular order, the carts in their midst bearing their wounded and their supplies with them as became good soldiers.