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
Jack wondered how the English section of the company, among whom he had
now recognized his friends Pomeroy and Smith and several other of his
acquaintance, would be satisfied with this plain and simple fare, so
different from that provided at the luxurious entertainments at home.
Two or three solemn servants moved quickly about between the rooms,
carrying glasses of sugared water to the ladies. As they passed Jack
they eyed him curiously, but with Spanish stolidity made no remarks.
Keeping in the shadow, he looked on at the animated throng with
ever-increasing impatience, wondering whether the major-domo had
forgotten him altogether. By and by he saw Pomeroy lead his partner to
a seat, and come towards the ante-room with the manifest intention of
seeking refreshment for her himself. Jack stepped back as Pomeroy
crossed from room to room, and the subaltern, throwing a curious glance
at the strange cloaked figure that stood there in the shadow, looked for
a moment as though he would like to question his right to be there. But
the moment passed, and almost immediately afterwards Sir John Moore
emerged from a curtained doorway behind the band, and crossed rapidly to
where Jack stood awaiting him.
"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Señor," he said in Spanish, with
his unvarying courtesy, "but I have had to listen for half an hour to a
countryman of yours who brought me news which, after all, happened to be
a trifle stale. You have an important message for me, I understand?"
"I am Lumsden of the 95th," said Jack in English, in a low tone which
none but the general’s ear could catch. Sir John started, and glanced
keenly at Jack; then a smile passed over his face.
"Capital! capital!" he said. "I shouldn’t have known you from Adam.
Come into the farther corner, away from these noisy dancers, and tell me
your news. You’d rather be kicking your heels among them, eh?" he added
with a twinkle.
"Not till you have done with me, sir," replied Jack as he accompanied
the general out of earshot. There, in a dim corner of the room, he gave
Sir John a succinct account of his movements, assuring him that the
French were beyond doubt making for Madrid, ignorant of, and not even
suspecting, the proximity of the British column at Salamanca.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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