The Adventures of Captain John Patterson: With Notices of the Officers, &c. of the 50th, or Queen's Own Regiment from 1807 to 1821Patterson, John
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The Adventures of Captain John Patterson: With Notices of the Officers, &c. of the 50th, or Queen's Own Regiment from 1807 to 1821
Patterson, John
Great Britain. Army. Queen's Own Royal West Kent Regiment; Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives, British
The situation was by no means an enviable one, on a dark night in
October, shivering on a desolate waste, with a cheerless journey
staring us in the face, or a cheerless bed on the cold earth. To add
to our discomfort, we had the prospect of being exposed to the
inclemency of most severe weather. It might be truly said that our
experience was likely to be dearly purchased.--After an hour's
fruitless exertion to get out of the labyrinth in which we had
involved ourselves, we at last heard the barking of some dogs, and
immediately advanced towards the quarter from which the sound
proceeded, and were in no small degree gratified at finding we were
close to a village. We rapped most lustily at the door of the first
house we came to, and hailing the landlord, implored him to take
compassion on two weary travellers, and give us lodging until
daylight. Our call was quickly answered by a surly voice from within,
demanding our reason for disturbing his highness at that improper
hour; at the same time telling, or rather bawling out, in tones
denoting that we were most unwelcome visitors, the disagreeable
intelligence, that we were far from the high road, and should not be
able to find it during the night.--The Spaniard, however, directed us
to some farm houses for more intelligence, and, glad to get from this
inhospitable don, who treated us as though we had been house breakers,
we again began to explore the unknown region, looking out most
wistfully for something by way of a clue, to obtain the object of our
search. Fortunately we perceived, after much marching and
countermarching, a light twinkling through the gloom and mist around
us; and, struggling along over hedge, ditch, and drain, our faithful
quadrupeds carried us safely to the entrance of a poor hamlet called
Villa Conejo. Here the peasants were all comfortably wrapped up in
their beds. With some difficulty, however, by dint of both threats and
bribes, we succeeded in procuring a guide, who buckling on his
garments, and taking up a formidable staff, trudged before us with
boldness equal to the renowned Sancho Panza himself. We were assured
of getting into the right direction before morning, and, therefore, as
the time of our absence was very limited, we hesitated not to push
onward, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, in preference to
quartering in the village, where, for any thing we knew to the
contrary, the people might think proper to be _quartering_ us in
another way, not quite so agreeable to our taste, before they suffered
us to depart.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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