Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular WarStrang, Herbert
General
Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular War
Strang, Herbert
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Juvenile fiction
They had not walked fifty yards when a terrific explosion rent the air,
deafening their ears and almost knocking them backward. Immediately
afterwards the thunder of heavy artillery broke out to their right, and
the mist beyond them was fitfully illuminated by lurid flashes. Brought
to a momentary stop, Jack again went forward, with eyes and ears
painfully strained, every fantastic eddy of the mist presenting itself
as a possible enemy. Suddenly he looked round to see that Pepito was
with him. The boy was gone! Retracing his steps, he peered through the
gloom, calling the gipsy’s name softly. There was no answer, no sign of
him. Five minutes were spent in fruitless search; then, within a few
yards of him, Jack heard the tramp of men marching rapidly in file.
With a mixed feeling of annoyance and anxiety he turned and made off in
the opposite direction, crossed the district known as the Tanneries, and
after wandering about for nearly an hour, dodging footsteps, and seeing
with concern the mist clearing, arrived at the turning of the Casa
Ximenez just in time to assist the young lady then so urgently needing
assistance.
Still anxious about the safety of the gipsy boy, Jack felt, after
leaving the house in the Coso, that he could do nothing at the moment,
and his first duty was to present his despatch to General Palafox. The
sounds of combat hurtled in the air; behind him clouds of smoke and
flame bore witness to the success of the French bombardment. The street
was full of men, women, citizens, soldiers, priests, hastening from
point to point, all armed, all with fury and grim determination printed
on their worn features. Stopping a boy who was hauling along a barrow
filled with powder, Jack asked him where General Palafox could be found.
"In the Palace of the Inquisition, by the Portillo Gate," replied the
boy in surprise, scarcely stopping to answer the question, and hurrying
on again with his fatal load. Before he had gone fifty yards a bomb fell
into the barrow, and, unknown to Jack, this little defender of Saragossa
was blown into eternity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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