Chapter III: Part 3

"Ech! Capitan Seetun, ve hab gibben dem _der teufels braden_ for breakfast,--ech, ech!" replied Blacier, cramming a quantity of tobacco into the bowl of a huge pipe, which he had pulled from the mouth of a Serjeant and transferred to his own. "Someting more betterer dan _wahr-sagen_ vill show dem de foord dis nicht,--de dragoons scarcely vill."

"No; I believe not, Blacier, my old boy! I shall recommend you to the notice of Sir Rowland in my account of this affair. You have long deserved the brevet."

"_Der teufel hole dich_! I tink so. Much obleege--much obleege to you."

The Germans had suffered a little in this skirmish, several having been sabred by the French; but only two Highlanders were killed, and these by carbine shots. Every where around the ground was strewed with helmets, holsters, sabres, carbines, and the bodies of men and of horses, rolling about in agony, or lying motionless and still in death. Sometimes a head, a boot and spur, or a gauntletted hand rose above the clear current of the Tagus, and then sunk for ever, as some wounded straggler was swept down by the stream. All the arms and accoutrements lying scattered about were, in conformity with the usual practice, dashed to pieces and completely destroyed by the victors.

"We have escaped easily in this affair," said Seaton, as he mustered his light company, "only a file of men killed; it might have been otherwise, had we formed square less promptly. You have done well, my gallant green feathers; you will get an extra ration of grog for this morning's work!" The Highlanders responded by a cheer.

"The Germans have lost many; they lie pretty thick by the water-side."

"Owing to their own want of alacrity in answering the bugle-call. Many of them have their heads cloven down, even through the thick shako."

"This will teach the survivors to be smarter in future. But where is Lisle?"

"Stuart, by all that is sacred he has fallen into the hands of the enemy!"

"He was close beside me at the moment the bugle sounded to form square, and I have not seen him since."

"I am afraid, sir, Mr. Lisle is either killed or taen awa' prisoner," said Serjeant Macrone, whose bare knee was streaming with blood, which he endeavoured to stanch by a piece of tartan rent from a plaid.

"I saw him stagger under the stroke of a sabre at the moment the dragoons broke frae the bushes amang us," observed another serjeant, advancing his pike.

"And has any man seen him since?" asked Stuart of the company breathlessly. Angus Mackie and several others replied that they had, but their statements differed so much, that it was impossible to come to any conclusion. One declared he had seen him killed "by a cloure on the croon, and that he never moved after it;" another stated that he slew the dragoon who wounded him, but all agreed that he had never gained the shelter of the rallying square. Evan Iverach declared, that "as sure as death he saw puir Maister Lisle grippit by the craigie, and dragged awa' by the officer of the cuirassiers." This last statement appeared the most probable, as no traces of poor Louis could be discovered on the ground save his sword and bonnet; and Stuart had a dim recollection of seeing a red uniform among the few prisoners whom De Mesmai's dragoons succeeded in carrying off amid the smoke and confusion.

From Villa Corrijos Ronald next day wrote to Alice, giving an account of her brother's capture in the skirmish at Fuente Duenna; and while he deplored the event, he said not a word of his fears that he was desperately wounded. He had very little doubt that he must have been so, otherwise De Mesmai, strong and muscular as he was, would have found it no easy task to carry off Louis in the singular manner he did.

Sir Rowland Hill, on discovering that King Joseph and Marshal Soult were manoeuvring to outflank him, prepared instantly to frustrate their intentions, and give them battle. Making forced marches by day and night at the head of the British, Spanish, and Portuguese troops he had collected together, he skilfully took up a strong position in front of Aranjuez, intending there to await the arrival of the enemy.

The troops passed the Puento Largo at midnight. A detachment of miners were making preparations to blow it up, and their red lights, burning under the ancient arches and twinkling on the sluggish waters of the Jacama, presented a singular appearance as the regiments marched above them towards the hills, where the position was taken before day-break. But no battle ensued. A despatch arrived from the Marquess of Wellington, saying that he had been forced temporarily to abandon the siege of Burgos, and order an immediate retreat into winter-quarters in Leon and Estremadura,--a sad and most unlooked-for reverse of fortune to the army, who had driven the enemy before them into Valencia and the northern provinces. Marching through the wide and fertile plains, in the midst of which rises Madrid, the second division commenced its retreat in obedience to this order. Passing close by the walls or earthen defences of the Spanish capital, they bivouacked at the distance of a league from it. There was no time to pitch tents, and the troops lay on the ground without them, exposed to all the misery of a most tempestuous night of wind and rain. Next night they were more comfortably lodged in the village and spacious palace of the Escurial. Ronald's light company were quartered in the royal chapel, a building which contains the tombs of all the Spanish monarchs, from Charles the Fifth down to the present age. Crossing the Guadarama, or sandy river, at a village of the same name, the great mountain was ascended, through which lies the famous Guadarama Pass, and from which an extensive view of the surrounding country is obtained.

The mountains were growing dark as the setting sun, enveloped in dun clouds, sank far behind them, and the effect of the scenery was considerably heightened by the march of so many thousand men,--cavalry, infantry, and artillery, up the winding pathway among the silent and solitary defiles, disappearing, section after section, with colours waving and arms glittering, down the deep pass of the Guadarama. Afar off on the plains of Madrid, leagues in their rear, clouds of dust rolling along the green landscape, marked where the pursuing squadrons and battalions of Soult followed the route of Sir Rowland with precision and rapidity.

On the 8th November, to cover the retreat of the whole army, and to stay Soult's advance, the first brigade was ordered to defend, to the last extremity, the town of Alba de Tormes, near the eastern borders of the ancient kingdom of Leon; a forlorn sort of duty, when it is remembered that so small a band were to oppose the concentrated French army, 90,000 strong, I believe. On being reinforced by General Hamilton's Portuguese brigade, and two companies of Spaniards under the Conde de Truxillo, every means were taken to render the place as strong as possible by erecting trenches and barricading the streets,--almost useless precautions, as the town, which lies low, is commanded by two adjacent heights. Its appearance, when the brigade entered it, was indeed miserable and desolate, having been completely deserted by the inhabitants, into whose hearts the retreat of the British and the advance of the French had stricken terror.

The soldiers had tasted nothing for thirty-six hours, and although drenched with rain, and wearied by a hard and forced march, had to remain under arms around the old and ruinous Moorish wall of Alba, during a very chill November night. About dawn, as no enemy had yet appeared, after guards had been posted, the troops were dismissed to take up their quarters in the dreary and empty houses, where every thing had been carried off or destroyed by the inhabitants before their flight. The drizzling rain which had fallen during the night had drenched them to the skin, but a dry article of clothing was not to be had, as the baggage was far away on the road to the rear. However, doors and shutters were torn down from the houses, and blazing fires kindled on the tiled floors, around which officers and soldiers crowded together without ceremony. Another day of starvation was before them,--untold gold could not have produced an ounce of flour in Alba. At night, by the great exertions of the commissary, some horse-beans were procured, and a handful given to every man; but early next morning some muleteers arrived from Corde Villar, bringing a few small bags of flour, which were received with wild demonstrations of thankfulness and joy by the starving brigade.

Every man who could bake was set to work, and the ovens were speedily filled with tommies, as the poor fellows designated their loaves, and expectant crowds, with eager eyes and hollow cheeks, stood waiting around the bake-house doors.

The hot and smoking bread was scarcely brought forth for equal distribution before the bugles sounded, and the distant reports of carbines announced that the enemy were coming on; and the picquet of the 9th light dragoons, posted in front of the town, had begun to retire before the heavy cavalry of Soult. "Stand to your arms!" was now the cry on all sides, and a scramble and uproar ensued among the soldiers at the ovens. The hot loaves were torn to pieces in handfuls and scattered about, and many who had fasted for eight-and-forty hours, (the repast of horse-beans excepted,) received nothing, while too much fell to the share of others.

Ronald was unfortunately among the former, as it was impossible for an officer to struggle for a mouthful of food among the men, and until that day he never knew what it was to experience the utmost extremity of hunger. But there was no help for it then; and venting a hearty malediction on the Duke of Dalmatia, he joined the light company, which lined a part of the Moorish wall facing the direction in which the enemy were momently expected to appear. The trenches, barricades, and other hastily-erected works were manned, and two hundred of the Highland light infantry were placed in the ancient castle of Alba, a lofty round tower built by the Moors. The rest of the troops, not engaged in lining the walls, occupied those streets which would protect them from the view and fire of the enemy; and General Howard ordered a part of the regiment of sappers to undermine the bridge over the Tormes, which at Alba is both deep and rapid, to the end that it might be blown up, to cut off the pursuit of the enemy when the British were compelled to abandon the town. The light dragoons, retiring through Alba, halted on the other side of the river to await the event, and immediately afterwards Soult's advance came in sight.

A company of infantry, the head of a column, appeared between the two hills which overlook Alba. They were beyond the range of musquetry, and halting there, they ordered arms and stood at ease. Shortly afterwards a staff-officer, wearing a glazed cocked-hat and green uniform, and mounted on a spotless white steed, descended at a trot towards the town, and with the most perfect coolness walked his horse slowly before the wall, which was lined by the 50th and Highlanders, riding within fifty yards of their musquets, a distance at which, had they fired, he must undoubtedly have been slain.

"A devilish cool fellow!" said Seaton. "He jogs easily along, looking every moment as if he expected a shot was coming to spoil his impertinent reconnoitring."

A murmur and cries of "Tak him doon! tak him doon! Gie him his kail through the reek," arose among the Highlanders, who began to look to their flints and priming.

"Weel would I like to gie that chield's pride a fa'!" said Angus Mackie, cocking his musquet. "The blind hauf hunder' surely ha'na seen him. Dearsake, Captain Seaton! just say the word,--will I fire?"

"Why,--I know no objection," said Seaton, looking inquiringly towards Cameron, who was standing on foot near an angle of the trench, with old Dugald Mhor beside him holding his charger by the bridle. "Colonel, some of my fellows are anxious to fire; shall I permit them? I have some deadly shots in the light company. Monsieur's reconnoissance will end the instant Angus fires upon him."

"Shame on you, Highlanders!" exclaimed Cameron, his eyes beginning to sparkle as usual when he was excited. "Would you fire on a solitary individual, who cannot return you a shot? He is a brave soldier although a rash one, and I will never permit such a deed to be done. Keep steady, men; you will have firing enough in a short time."

The light company were abashed, and the life of the Frenchman was saved,--a piece of generous clemency which Cameron soon had reason to repent. The staff-officer, continuing at the same deliberate pace, ascended one of the heights, where he was joined by an orderly on foot, who by his directions was seen to place eleven stones, equi-distant, around the summit. Descending past the head of the infantry column in the valley, he ascended the other eminence, and there the same movements were performed; after which they disappeared to the rear.

That French officer, who so narrowly escaped death, was MARSHAL SOULT,--the great Duke of Dalmatia himself, as one of his own despatches, which a few days afterwards fell into the hands of our troops, sufficiently testified.

Scarcely had he withdrawn, before twenty-two pieces of artillery, each drawn by four horses, ascended the heights at full gallop, and took their ground at the several marks which Marshal Soult had laid. In an instant the gunners leaped from their seats; the guns were wheeled round, with their yawning muzzles pointed to Alba; the horses were untraced, the limbers cast off, and with the speed of thought the cannoniers, all stout fellows, wearing high grenadier caps, grey great-coats with large red epaulets, were seen hard at work with sponge and rammer, charging home the cannon. Their active figures were seen more distinctly by the yellow light shed across the sky by the morning sun, the rays of which shone merrily on the glistening Tormes, the brown autumnal woods, the mouldering walls and desolate streets of Alba, where soon the work of death was to begin.

"Well, colonel," said Seaton, "what think you of this gay preparation? We shall have sixteen-pounders and long nines flying like hailstones in a minute more. You will scarcely rejoice at allowing the white steed to carry off its rider with a whole skin."

Cameron bit his lips, and his fiery eyes flashed; but he made no reply.

"Hech!" muttered an old Highlander; "it's a true sayin' at hame--Glum folk are no easy guided. Ta cornel's been makin' a fule o' hersel the day before the morn; hoomch!"

"Keep close under your walls and trenches, lads," cried Campbell, who was watching the heights through a telescope levelled across the saddle of his horse. "Keep close; but never duck down when a ball comes: as old Sir Ralph used to say, 'it looks d--ned unsoldierlike.' Here comes a shot."

A flash, and a wreath of white smoke, announced the first cannon-ball, which, striking the wall of a house, brought a mass of masonry tumbling into the street. Whiz came a second, and a third, and a fourth,--all in quick succession. The French cannonade commenced then in good earnest, and continued incessantly from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon,--firing thirteen hundred round of shot and shell, and perhaps to so hot a discharge of cannon so small a body of troops, in such a defenceless place, were never subjected before. Without the least intermission it continued for seven hours, and even then the enemy only ceased to cool their guns, and await the completion of a plan formed by Soult for surrounding and completely cutting off the defenders of Alba. It was a miracle that every man in the place was not destroyed; but the enemy chiefly expended their shot on a large empty convent, which they supposed to be full of soldiers, and in consequence levelled it to the foundations.

One sixteen-pounder came whizzing amongst the light company, and, striking the breast-work of loose earth, buried Seaton and a section of men under it; and a hearty laugh arose from the regiment, as they scrambled out of the trench, shaking off the soil and turf which had covered them up.

Although shot were crashing, shells bursting, and houses falling incessantly for seven consecutive hours, only about fifty Highlanders were killed. The loss of the other corps I have never ascertained, but the streets were every where strewed with the dead. Many of the wounds were beyond conception frightful, being all by cannon-shot or bomb-splinters, tearing absolutely to pieces those they struck, and shearing off legs and arms like withered reeds. Macildhui, a Serjeant, was killed as Ronald was delivering some orders to him. His head was carried away like an egg-shell, and his brains were spattered over the pavement. Night was closing, and the enemy's guns were still in position on the heights, from which another iron dose was expected in the morning, when an aide-de-camp from Salamanca, covered from plume to spur with dust, dashed into the town at full gallop, and informed General Howard that 3,000 French cavalry had forded the Tormes some miles above Alba, that his position was turned, and that the Marquess of Wellington desired he would abandon the town without a moment's delay, otherwise the first brigade were lost men. The order was instantly given to decamp, and the place was quitted double-quick, the troops moving through those streets which concealed their movements from Soult, and forming in close columns on the other side of the Tormes to be in readiness for the cavalry, should they make their appearance. To deceive the French marshal, the sentries were kept on the walls until the last moment; and Stuart, with ten light-company men, was sent to "bring them off."

"Farewell, senor!' cried Truxillo, waving his sabre to Ronald over the battlements of the ancient Moorish tower, which he had volunteered to defend to the last with his two companies of Castilians, to cover the retreat of Howard's and Hamilton's brigade.

"Adieu, gallant conde!" answered Ronald, as he passed beneath the walls with his party. It was the last time he ever beheld him. By the sound of his silver whistle he collected the Highland sentinels from all points. These, with Major-general Howard, Wemyss, the brigade-major, and Ronald himself, were the last men who quitted the ruins of Alba. The mounted officers rode at a trot, and the heavily laden infantry followed double-quick, with their musquets at the trail. The moment the bridge was cleared the sappers sprung the mine: a roar like that of thunder shook the current of the Tormes, and a cloud of dust and stones rose into the air. Ronald, who was severely bruised by the falling fragments, cast a glance behind as he hurried along. The bridge was a mass of ruins. The Spanish flag was waving from the round tower of Alba, which was now enveloped in smoke, and flashes of musquetry broke from it on all sides as the forlorn band of the conde opened a sharp fire from the rampart and loopholes upon a dense and dark column of French infantry, which was seen descending rapidly towards the town, with tri-colours flying, and brass drums beating in that peculiar manner by which the French regulate the quick step. After a desperate resistance, Truxillo and his Castilians were captured; but the sound of the firing was long heard by the brigade as it retreated in squares along the road for Ciudad Rodrigo, thus completely frustrating Soult's design to enclose and cut them off by his cavalry, who appeared in about half an hour, and met with so desperate a resistance that they were compelled to retire with immense loss.

That night the brigade halted on the skirts of a cork wood, five leagues distant from Alba de Tormes. The half-leafless branches afforded but a poor protection from the rain, which continued to pour without cessation until day-break, when the weary march was recommenced.

It was indeed a night of misery! Although worn out with fatigue and hunger, it was impossible to sleep on the wet ground, on which the rushing rain was descending in drops larger than peas; and almost equally impossible to stand, after what had been endured for some days past,--marching from dawn till sunset laden with seventy-five pounds weight, and fasting for six-and-thirty, or eight-and-forty consecutive hours. Cursing themselves and their fate, many of the soldiers were so disheartened at the retreat, and the miseries they had undergone since they left Aranjuez, that they were often heard aloud "wishing to Heaven their brains had been blown out in Alba!"

Ronald, being sent on out-picquet, lost even the slight shelter afforded by the wood; but the soldiers had lighted prodigious fires, upon which even the power of the rain was lost; and seated by one, he passed a sleepless night, listening to the rain-drops sputtering in the flames, and to the hoarse croaking of frogs in a neighbouring marsh. During the night it was discovered that the wood was the lair of wild pigs, and a regular hunt ensued; by which means scores were shot during the glimpses of moonlight. As fast as they were killed they were quartered, and served out to the men, who crowded round the fires, broiling them on their bayonets and long steel ramrods. Major Campbell, who was a keen sportsman, and had been accustomed to shoot by moonlight at home, exerted himself so well, that with his own hand he shot five, and brought them to the bivouac, where he threw them among the soldiers. The out-picquets had been puzzled to comprehend the meaning of the firing within the wood, and Ronald was agreeably surprised by his servant bringing him a slice of wild pork, famously fried in a camp-kettle lid, and with it a _berengena_ (a fruit of the cucumber genus) which he had found in the wood and reserved for his master, although almost perishing for want of nourishment himself. But the instances of Evan's fidelity are innumerable.

The contents of the camp-kettle were shared between master and man, without ceremony, and without the absence of salt or other seasoning being perceived.

For this affair of pig-shooting in the cork wood, the commander-in-chief took the opportunity to tell the army, in a general order, that they had degenerated into "a lawless banditti," and that, without having suffered the least privation, they were in a state of mutiny and disorder. This taunting and bitter address is still remembered with peculiar annoyance by the few survivors of that brave army.

But, to return to the unhappy and unlooked-for retreat from Burgos, privations the troops _did_ suffer, (and I say so, in defiance of that general order,) and privations such as soldiers never endured before or since. Continuing their rapid retreat across the frontier, on the evening of the 19th of November, the first brigade entered the miserable village of Robledo, in Leon; and as the soldiers halted and formed line in the street, pale, exhausted, wayworn, famished, and absolutely in rags,--shirtless, shoeless, and penniless, they seemed more like an assemblage of gaunt spectres than British men. Ronald's shirt had not been changed for ten days, nor had his beard been shaven for the same period. His shoes were completely worn away, and his bare feet had been cut and wounded by the flinty ground, while his uniform hung in fritters about him. Every officer was in the same predicament.

The military chest was empty, the stores exhausted. The cavalry and artillery horses perished in scores for want of forage; and during the whole retreat from Alba de Tormes to Robledo, the soldiers had fared on scanty rations of tough beef, horse-beans, acorns and castanos picked up by the way-side; or now and then, when the commissary could procure it, a few handfuls of wheat served out to each officer and private--unground. On reaching their winter-quarters thousands of soldiers died of sheer exhaustion, or were invalided and sent home, to become burdens to their friends, parishes, or themselves, for the remainder of their lives.

*CHAPTER IV.*

*ANGUS MACKIE.*

"The bud comes back to summer,
And the blossom to the tree;
But I win back--oh, never!
To my ain countrie.

I'm leal to the high heaven,
Which will be leal to me;
And there I'll meet ye a' sune,
Frae my ain countrie."
_Scottish Song._

In the beginning of the next month the Highlanders were marched across the Sierra de Gate to the ancient city of Coria, in Estremadura, where they were to remain until they had recovered from their late fatigues, and received recruits, clothing, supplies, and arrears of pay from Lisbon. While on the march across the sierra, Evan's comrade, Angus Mackie, a soldier of whom I have made frequent mention, deserted from the light company, and, singularly enough, was discovered to have gone off in the direction of the enemy,--a circumstance which exasperated the whole regiment against him. But the true reason of poor Mackie's disappearance soon afterwards came to light.

On the second day after their arrival at Coria, the mail bags were brought from the rear, and Ronald, who was on guard with twenty Highlanders at one of the four gates of the city, was much annoyed at being unable to inquire if any letters had come for him, and he passed the whole day in a disagreeable state of expectation and excitement. In the evening the guards were relieved, and he hurried to his billet, which was situated in one of the narrow and gloomy streets leading from the market-place towards the cathedral. At the door he was met by Evan, who informed him that "twa letters frae hame were awaiting him in his room. Major Campbell had left them there some time before."

"Foolish! Why did you not bring them to the guard-house?"

"But alake, sir! there isna ane for me," said Evan, without minding the question. "My faither micht hae sent me ae screed, and I houp that naething waur than the broon coo--(as he ay ca'd the yill), or a wee drap ower muckle o' the barley bree, have keepit him fraed."

"A light, Evan! a light! this place is very dark," cried Ronald to his retainer, who had followed him up stairs to hear what news the letter contained.

"Twa candles, sir," said he, as he lighted them. "Twa, nae less. By the alcalde's order, the auld patron body has to furnish ye wi' twa,--which maks ye 'as braw as the Laird o' Grant.' Ye mind the auld saying, I daur say?"

Ronald snatched the letters, and beheld with joy and delight that one was from Alice,--the other from his father.

"Poor Louis!" muttered he aloud; "how much I wish that he was here!" Ronald was absolutely trembling with joy as he opened the letter and prepared to read it.

He drew his chair close to the table, and raised the snuffers to trim the candles; when, lo! the lights were both blown out, and the snuffers flew from his hand with a loud report.

"Gude guide us!" exclaimed Evan, astonished at being so suddenly involved in darkness; but a hearty malediction escaped Ronald, who was chafed and infuriated with the delay this unexpected circumstance caused.

"Light them again," cried he. "Did you say that Major Campbell had been waiting for me in this room?"

"Ay, sir, a gay gude while,"

"Pshaw! this is some trick of his: he has put a pinch of powder in the snuffers. His practical joke has been somewhat mis-timed. Get me fresh lights." Although Ronald laughed heartily at this occurrence afterwards, he was greatly enraged by it at the time, and an age seemed to elapse before Evan brought him the candles again. Love-letters are interesting to those only for whom they are designed, and it is not my intention to give Miss Lisle's letter at length; but the reader, if concerned about the matter, may be assured that its contents were in every way just what Ronald could have wished them,--save in one part. She expressed her joy to hear that Louis was a prisoner, saying that he was "safer in France than fighting in Spain," and that she almost wished that Ronald himself might be captured likewise, to keep him out of harm's way.

"Evan, Jessie Cavers begs again to be remembered to you," said Ronald to his expectant follower, as he closed the letter.

"Does she really, noo? The dear lassie!" cried he, snapping his fingers, while his eyes glistened with delight; and he commenced a sort of strathspey round the table. "My ain bonnie blithesome Jessie! Mony a gloaming I have spent wi' her among the sauch-tree woods o' Inchavon, and the haughs o' the Isla. Deil tak the wars and campaigning! How blithely would I gie this unco land o' teuch beef and rotten nuts, hard fechtin and wearysome marching, for auld Scotland, sae brave and sae bonnie, wi' its green grassy glens and high heather hills, its lochs and its woods! Ochone! Oh, Maister Ronald! gin we once mair saw Benmore, and fand the smell o' oor ain peat reek, I dinna think we would be in a hurry to leave hame again. And then Miss Lisle o' the big ha' house would be your ain, and my bonnie doo Jessie mine! I have written to her three times, and deil a scrap o' a letter has she sent me. She writes weil aneugh, thanks to the auld dominie at the schule o' Latheronweel. But what does the laird say? Are a' weil at oor ain ingle-neuck?"

"All, Heaven be thanked!" replied Ronald, glancing rapidly over the pages of his father's letter; "but leave me just now, Evan, and see who that is knocking in the piazzas below. I will detail the news from the glen afterwards."

His father's letter, although it contained many expressions of pride, praise, and exultation for Ronald's conduct at Almarez, was written much in the same style as his others usually were: every thing was looking gloomy at home; the flocks and hirsels were perishing on the mountains, and the tenants in the glen had failed in their rents. "But they are our people," continued the old gentleman, "and I cannot drive them forth from the sheilings where they were born, and from the glen where the purple heather blooms so bonnily above the graves of their fathers. I cannot savagely expatriate, as other proprietors are doing daily, the descendants of those true and loyal vassals, who stood by our ancestors in danger and death during many a soul-stirring time in the years that are gone. No! I have more honour, compassion, and generosity. Poverty is their misfortune, not their crime. Heaven knows how little a space of time remains for me to be over them, as all my affairs are inextricably involved, and in a few months that letter of cautionary, granted in an evil hour to protect that rascal Macquirk, becomes due. God alone knows where I can raise the money. L8,000 will scarcely pay it, and I believe I will have to lay it down every stiver, as Macquirk has retreated to the sanctuary of Holyrood-house for protection from his creditors. Last month I was down in Edinburgh, endeavouring to procure the needful on a bond,--but in vain. Lochisla is too deeply involved already. Curse on the hour in which an honourable Highland gentleman of birth and family has to sue at and succumb to a narrow-hearted and blood-sucking attorney! a wretch that will make a beggar of any man who is simple enough to trust him, or become entangled in the meshes of _the_ profession, which, like a true old Highlander, I regard with proper hatred and contempt. D--n them all! I say, heartily; and all tax-gatherers, messengers at arms, and excisemen likewise! Some of the last kind of intruders carried off Alpin Oig's still from Coir nan Taischatrin, and a great noise was made in Perth about it. Three came up the glen with a warrant for his apprehension; but I hid him in the old dungeon under the hall, where I would advise them not to try and look for him, if they wish to keep their bones whole. It was a great insult to seize the still, but I am powerless now, and can only think with a sigh of the time when my father hung two of them on the _dule tree_ at the tower gate,--and no man dared to say, What dost thou? It was the day before he marched for Glenfinnan, and the unfortunate gaugers were left to feed the eagles and corbies of Benmore. Scotland was Scotland then! Dirk and claymore! was the cry when a Highland gentleman was insulted. I saw, by the papers, that young Inchavon has been taken prisoner. Well, I dare say you will not miss him much. His sister's arts have completely failed to entrap the Earl of Hyndford. He took his departure suddenly for Edinburgh last month, leaving Miss Alice to fly her hawks at lesser game."

Ronald had scarcely finished the perusal of this disheartening letter, when Evan entered hastily. "Oh, sir," said he, "I have an unco' tale to tell ye aboot my comrade Angus,--puir cheild."

"How! has he been robbed by picaros,--slain by _guerillas_, or what?"

"O, waur than a' that."

"He deserted in the direction of the enemy; I was sorry to hear of it. He was always a favourite of mine and of Seaton's. Did he reach the French lines?"

"Eh, no, sir! Captain Blacier's riflemen fell in wi' him amang the hills, and there has been an unco' tulzie. But weel do I ken for what puir Angus deserted. It wasna the French he was awa to join; he was off for Almendralejo, sir."

"Almendralejo! Stay; I remember a story now. Surely it was not his attachment to some girl there which led him to commit so rash an act?"

"Just naething else. O Maister Ronald, ye ken weel what an unco' thing love is."

"I have seen the girl,--Maria Garcionados."

"Ay, sir,--a bonnie lassie, wi' een like slaes, cheeks redder than rowans, and skin like the drifted snaw; but she has been a dooms unlucky jo for Angus. I'll tell ye the haill story. Ye maun ken, sir, that mony months gane past, when we were quartered in Almendralejo, Angus fell over the lugs in love wi' this braw gilpie, whan we were billeted in her ain house. Ye heard frae Mr. Macdonald o' the toosle we had wi' her cuisins, and unco' auld Turk o' a faither. Hech! it was a teugh job, wi' sharp skenes and bayonets, and a' that. Weel, sir; syne the day Angus first tint sicht o' that lassie, he has never been the same rattling, roaring kind o' chield he was; but ay wae and dowie, soughing and sighing till it was gruesome to hear him. Yesterday, or the day before it, when coming ower the hills,--ye mind the bit clachan we stoppit at for a night's rest?"

"Los Cazas de Don Gomez?"

"Ay, sir, just sae,--a deevil o' a lang nebbit name! At a wine-house there Angus and I forgathered wi' a muleteer loon frae Almendralejo,--Lazaro Gomez, he ca'd himsel. Ye'll may be mind o' him?"

"Perfectly; but be quick with your story."

"Aweel, sir, the mule-driver gied us a' the news and clashin frae aboot Merida and ither places, and amang ither things tauld Angus that auld Sancho Garcionados,--or _el Picaro_, as the Spaniards ay ca' a lawyer, was gaun to compel the lassie, whether she wad or no, to marry a rich alcalde. Od, sir! I never saw a face change as puir Mackie's did, while the carrier callant chatted awa wi' us in his broken English, never kennin' the while that ilka word was fa'in' like scaudin' lead into the heart b' puir Angus. He came to me that nicht at tatto beat, and said he could thole this life no anither minute, and that--come weal, come wae, he would gang off for Almendralejo, and save the lassie or dee wi' her. I did a' I could to pacify him, but he minded me nae mair than the wind whistlin' ower the muir. He came to me whan I was on sentry at the toon end. His een were glistening, his face was white, like that o' something no cannie, and his gartered knees were chaffing thegither. I grew eerie to look at him, for the nicht was dark and gloomy, and the wind came soughing doon frae the hills wi' a sound like the moan o' a deid man. Ae starnie was glintin on the hill-tap, and I saw the reflection o'd in the rinnin water,[*] which passes the toon wa's. Angus stretched his hands towards the bit starnie, and said it was shinin' ower Almendralejo then,--and may be, his ain true love was lookin' at it; and that it hung like a lamp in the mirky, lift to guide him to whar she bided.

[*] The Alagona river, which passes Coria.

"'Hoots, havers!' said I, 'ye'll sune get ower'd; and may be that gomeral mule-driver's story o' auld Sancho's dochter was a' a lee,--every word o't. Gang hame to your bed, my man, and ye'll be better the morn.'

"But he just gied an unco' sough, and wrung my loof, gaed doon the brae, and left me. Next morning Serjeant Macrone reported him absent frae parade, and then I kent that he had taen to the hills and was awa'. The black een o' that Spanish lass hae cuisten' a glamourie ower him waur than witchcraft. Amang the hills he fell in wi' Captain Blacier's company o' the 60th, some o' wha spiered the gate he was gaun? Angus couldna or wadna tell, and a fray o' some kind ensued atween him and the German loons: in the middle o't, Angus drew his bayonet on auld Blacier, for which he now lies in airns in ane o' the square toors o' Coria."

"O the fool! Attempted to stab Blacier, did he?"

"Ay, an vera nigh stickit him i' the wame. Puir Angus! he ay hated thae thrawn gebbit Hanoverian dogs, as he ca'd them; for his faither, like yer ain, had been out in the forty-five,--wi' the Prince sae bauld and braw."

"The unfortunate madman! he will surely die. It is death, by the articles of war, to draw weapon upon an officer."

"So Serjeant Macrone says; but alake! Maister Ronald, I houp it will no come to that. Blacier is only a German, ye ken," said Evan, while his eyes began to glisten. "Surely the Cornel, Captain Seaton, or may be yoursel, will get him ower it. Angus and me hae ever been cronies and brithers syne the first day we met at La Nava, and I would be unco' laith to lose him noo. Ye ken hoo dowie ye were yoursel for mony a lang day after brave Maister Louis fell into the claws o' thae taid-eating loons, and no a' Maister Macdonald's jokes or merriment could rouse ye."

"Prepare yourself for the worst, Evan. Your poor friend will certainly die, if this crime is proved against him." * * * *

Stuart was one of the members of the general court-martial ordered to try this case, in which desertion was coupled with a flagrant act of insubordination. The court met in the palace of the bishop, as there was not another house in Coria containing an apartment fit for the purpose,--the town being very inconsiderable, having only about fifteen hundred inhabitants, although strongly defended by walls, towers, gates, and a very singular fortress, the ascent to which is by a flight of upwards of a hundred steps. From this strong-hold Mackie was brought before the court which was to decide his doom.

The room in which it met, was gloomy and old, and the dim light from four mullioned windows fell uncertainly on the war-worn uniforms and well-bronzed faces of the officers seated around the table, on which lay paper, pens and ink, a bible, and the articles of war. The president, the Hon. Colonel Cadogan of the Highland Light Infantry, sat at the head; the judge-advocate, an officer of cavalry, stood at the foot of the table to read the charges,--the members taking their places according to their rank; the seniors on Cadogan's right, the juniors on his left. After the court had been sworn, by the president holding forth the bible, and every officer laying his hand upon it and swearing "duly to administer justice according to the rules and articles now in force for the better government of his Majesty's forces, without partiality, favour, or affection," the proceedings commenced. Pale, dejected, and apparently cast down to the lowest depths of mental misery, the unfortunate young Highlander stood before the military tribunal. His red coat, threadbare and patched with divers colours, his frittered tartans, and a deep scar on one of his sun-burnt knees, another on his cheek, gained at Corunna,--all bore witness for him of the service he had seen, but which was little cared for there, as all had served alike. Tall and erect he stood before them, glancing from one to another in a firm but respectful manner. One by one the evidences against him were examined, and he found no fault with what any man said of him. Seaton and Serjeant Duncan Macrone stated the time when his absence was first discovered, and the former spoke highly of his general character and conduct, and acquainted the court that his life had been twice saved by the prisoner,--first at the battle of Fuentes de Honore, in May 1811; and again at Arroya del Molino in the November of the same year, when he was encountered by two aides-de-camp of the Prince d'Aremberg during the action. Honest old Blacier, although the most aggrieved party, was unwilling to be the means of depriving the Highlander of existence, and taking his pipe from his mouth, gave his evidence with marked backwardness; he concluded by saying, "Dat he believed de _henckers knecht_ vas under de influence ob de pig-skins, or _der teufel_, or _zauberei_, vich means de vitshcraft, and I vould not hab it on my conscience dat I occasioned a young man's being shot and sent to _der teufel_ for showing a bare blade ven his bloodt vas up; and I hope de coort' vill recommendt him to de tender mercy ob Lord Vellington, so dat he may be shaved."

"Your wishes, with those of Captain Seaton, shall have due consideration with the court, Captain Blacier," replied the president; and the rifleman withdrew, puffing vehemently with his long pipe. When called upon to make his defence, the prisoner had little to say. He knew that any attempts to extenuate his double crime would be perfectly unavailing, and his knowledge of the rules of the service led him to anticipate his doom. Yet his keen grey eye never quailed or grew less bright, and his voice never faltered while he addressed the court in the following manner:--

"Weel do I ken, sirs, that I have been acting wrang,--unco' wrang. I hae been guilty, in sae far that I abandoned my quarters, and was awa amang the hills; but I deny solemnly, and may I be haulden mansworn, if ever I ettled to desert, or gae ower to the enemy's colours. I was clean wud, and kenned na' at the time whar I was danderin' to. I tell your honours the truth, and I would scorn to affirm it wi' an aith, because I never tauld a lee in a' my days, and hae nae need to fib or flaw noo. But, sirs, I think there isna ane in this room that wadna hae dune as I did that nicht, when I kent that I was on the brink o' losing for ever and ay the winsome lass to whom I had plighted heart and troth; and I will affirm, gentlemen, that neither the danger or disgrace o' haeing it imputed to me that I abandoned my standard, could keep me frae trying to save her frae sic a tyrannical and avaricious auld carle as her faither. It has been said, in the 'crime,' that I was gaun the gate to the enemy's lines. Ablins I was, and ablins I wasna, for I was wading through a sea o' desperation,--I was dumbfounded and gane gyte that nicht, and it was a' after I had bent the bicker a gay gude while, as my comrade Evan Iverach has tauld unto ye.

"O sirs! I hope that ye will neither flog nor degrade me; but let me dee the death my crime is said to merit. Let me dee noo,--noo that I hae broucht sorrow and wae, sorrow and disgrace to my honest faither's fireside; for though he is but a puir auld cottar body at Braemar, it will bring his bald head to the grave if he hears I hae come to the halberts,[*]--it would be sic an awfu' disgrace! the haill kintra-side wad ring wi't. Let me rather die, sirs: I say again,--a hundred times I hae faced death, and I can easily face him ance mair. But it is whan I think o' my faither and mother at hame amang the heather hills,--struggling wi' eild and wi' poortith,--the ane herdin' sheep in bonnie Glenclunaidh amang the lang yellow broom, and the ither spinnin' hard at the ingle-neuk, whar I hae sae aften toddled at her knee,--'tis whan I think o' them that I am ready to orp and greet, and that my stout heart fails me,--a heart, sirs, that never failed on mony a bluidy day. I hae nae mair to say, your honours, but just that I humbly thank ye for hearing me sae lang, and that I wad as sune dee as live."

[*] The triangles: three pikes were used in those days.

This address, which was delivered with considerable vehemence and gesture, and spoken in a very northern and provincial dialect, was very little understood by those members of the court who were not Scotsmen; and Ronald Stuart, whose heart yearned with a truly Scottish love towards his countryman, explained to them the substance of what Mackie had said. He was found guilty of the seventh and eleventh articles in the second section of the articles of war; viz. desertion,--aggravated by an intention to join the enemy, and drawing, or offering to draw, upon "a superior officer." He was sent back to the fortress of Coria, and the proceedings and sentence of the court were despatched to head-quarters, with strong recommendations to mercy from Colonel Cadogan, and from Fassifern: but many months elapsed before an answer was returned, and during all that time the poor Highlander pined in the noisome vaults of the castle or fort of Coria. But of him, more anon.

In consequence of the approach of the French under General Foy, the first brigade moved from Coria while the sentence of the unfortunate Mackie remained unknown,--every member of a court-martial being sworn to solemn secrecy. The 50th regiment occupied Bejar, so famous for its mineral wells, and some sharp fighting ensued in its neighbourhood; but Foy's troops were completely routed with great loss. The Highlanders occupied the beautiful village of Banos, which lies secluded in a deep and narrow valley between Leon and Estremadura, surrounded on every side by abrupt precipitous mountains, which are covered to their rugged summits by the richest foliage; but amid their caverns, fastnesses, and dingles lurk herds of wolves, the wildness and ferocity of which keep the inhabitants in a continual state of terror and alarm; and so daring had these savage animals become, that it was necessary to keep large fires burning at night around the village, to scare them from the posts of the sentinels.

Soon after the regiment arrived at Banos, the sentence of Angus Mackie was ordered to be put in execution, having been approved of by the proper authorities. On the retreat from Burgos some symptoms of insubordination had appeared among the other brigades, when the soldiers became maddened by the miseries they underwent; an officer of "the buffs" had been shot by a soldier of that regiment. In other corps discipline seemed almost set at nought, and it was determined that an example should be made. The private of the 3rd regiment was hanged, and Angus Mackie, who, although far less criminal, had been convicted of desertion and insubordination, was sentenced to be shot to death in presence of his comrades, who among themselves deeply pitied and deplored that so gallant a lad should suffer so severe a sentence for his exaggerated crime. No charge of injustice could be laid to the account of the court which tried him, the "finding" of its members having been regulated by the stern but necessary articles of the Mutiny Act. Many months had passed away since his trial; the first excitement of the affair had died away, and during all that time he had been confined in the dreary fort of Coria,--a sufficient punishment alone for the crime he had committed.

This unhappy affair cast a gloom over the whole regiment,--a gloom which was apparent in every face, as the unwilling Highlanders paraded in the valley of Banos to witness his execution.

It was in the month of May 1813; the evening was a still and beautiful one. The sun was verging towards the west, and his crimson rays streamed through the deep dark dell, upon the vine-clad cottages and sylvan amphitheatre of Banos. Concentrated in that narrow and gloomy glen, where the immense mountains rose on every side to the height of many hundred feet, and where crags and rocks shot up in cones and fantastic spires, almost excluding the light of day from the little huts at the bottom of the dell, were the seventeen infantry regiments of the second division, together with the cavalry, drawn up on the steep faces of the hills, so that the rear ranks might overlook the front. The paisanos of the secluded village, awe-struck at the unusual scene, and the sight of so many thousand steel weapons glittering amid such dense masses of foreign soldiers, forsook their cottages and clustered together on the summit of a steep rock, to behold the fatal event. The troops formed three faces of a hollow square; the rock upon which the peasants were congregated occupied the vacant space. A spot of velvet turf, the village-green, stretched to the foot of it, and there was dug a grave,--a grave for the yet living man; the wet damp earth heaped up on one side of it, the rolls of turf and a rough deal coffin lay on the other. Near these stood the base-drum of the Gordon Highlanders; a bible and a prayer-book lay open upon its head.

The Highlanders formed the inner faces of the square.

All was solemn silence and expectation; not a whisper was heard through all that dense array; not a sound smote the ear save the rustle of the summer foliage, as the evening wind stirred the tall chesnuts or rich green cork-trees which nodded from the black precipices. The general, the staff and field-officers were all on horseback, but remained motionless. At last it was known that the doomed man was approaching, and the arms of the escort that conducted him were seen flashing in the sunlight, as they descended from the hill tops by the winding pathway which led to the bottom of the valley. Sir Rowland Hill touched his hat to an aide-de-camp, who then passed among the troops at a hand gallop, whispering to each commanding-officer; the words of command to fix bayonets and shoulder arms were immediately given, and before the varying tones of the different colonels died away, the prisoner appeared amid the square surrounded by his escort, under charge of the provost-marshal. His own corps, I have said, was in front, and he moved slowly along the silent ranks with downcast eyes towards the spot where his grave and coffin lay displayed. He drew near the former, and cast a glance into its gloomy depth and, shuddering, turned his back upon it, muttering: "I would just be sax and twenty the morn. Sax and twenty! oh, it's an unco thing to dee sae young. O my faither--my mither!" he groaned aloud; "farewell to you--to auld Scotland, and a' I hae loed sae lang and weel! It will be a sair trial to my kinsfolk in Glenclunaidh, when they see my name on the kirk doors o' Braemar--as ane that has dee'd wi' disgrace on his broo."[*]

[*] By the military regulations, the names of soldiers who behave meritoriously, or misbehave themselves grossly, are affixed to the church-doors of the parish in which they were born. In Highland regiments the threat of informing friends at home of a soldier's misconduct was sufficient to keep him in order for the time to come.