It appeared that the ball, which went through his neck, had passed so close to the carotid artery, that the exertion of coughing had burst it, and it became impossible to stop the hæmorrhage. He bled to death, and warm as he was, they covered him in the sand and proceeded. After we had been driven some few miles further, one of my wounded comrades, who was shot through the body, and whose end seemed momentarily approaching, at length, in a dying state relaxed his hold from the cart sides and fell across me as I lay at the bottom, whilst foam mixed with blood kept running from his mouth. This with his glass eyes fixed on mine made me feel very uncomfortable. Being weak and wounded myself, I had not power to move him, and in this situation, the horrors of which survived for some time in my mind, death put an end to his sufferings, but without granting me any respite for some hours. His struggles having ceased, however, I was enabled to recover myself a little, and called to the driver to remove the body. But the scoundrel of a Portuguese, who kept as much ahead of the bullocks as possible, was so afraid of the French, that I could get no other answer from him than “non quireo,” “don’t bother me,” and a significant shrug of the shoulder, which bespoke even more than his words. At length we arrived at Fraxedas on the road to Coimbra, where we found the 1st division encamped outside the town. Here I got rid of my dead comrade, and we had our wounds dressed. The guards, who belonged to the 1st division, behaved to us with a kindness which I never can forget; as we had no men of our own to attend to us, forty of their number, under an officer, were ordered to supply our wants until we arrived at Lisbon. CHAPTER VII. Mondego—The Coimbra—Figueras—The maggots—Lisbon—Battle of Busaco—Retreat to Torres Vedras—Lord Wellington’s generalship—Belem—Jack ashore and Jonathan also—Yankey and Lankey—Billy M’Nabb—The Highland kite and Lowland tail—Josh. Hetherington—Sperum Poco—Portuguese piety—Aruda—Doing what the enemy left undone—Tom Crawley again—In state—A hot berth—Our enemies laugh at Tom in his glory. FROM Fraxedas we pursued our way to Mondego, and from thence we passed in boats down the river through Coimbra, to the sea-port of Figueras. Sick and ill as I was, I well recollect the exquisite scenery that met our gaze on the banks of that beautiful river, as we floated over its surface to our destination.