And many slept to wake no more. Captain Uniacke, as I have said, was blown up on reaching the rampart; his arm was torn from the socket, and he was fearfully scorched. He was carried to Gallegos, where he died a few hours after, surrounded by the men of his company, by whom he was beloved.’ ‘Though young in years,’ says Costello, who served in his company, ‘he was gallant, daring, and just to all whom he commanded. His affability and personal courage had rendered him the idol of the men of his company.’ Fairfoot, who was Pay-sergeant of his company, was resolved that he should be buried in consecrated ground; but he found an obstacle in the prejudices of the clergy, who considered him a heretic. However, Fairfoot (with pardonable equivocation) assured the priests that his Captain was an Irishman, which to the Spanish priests implied that he was a Catholic. Their scruples gave way; ‘and I chose,’ said Fairfoot afterwards, ‘the finest tree in the church-yard of Gallegos.’ At its foot he was laid; the whole of his company attending, under the command of Thomas Smith, his subaltern. Lieutenants John Cox and Hamilton, of the 1st Battalion, were also severely wounded, 1 Rifleman was killed, 1 sergeant and 15 rank and file wounded; in the 2nd Battalion, Captain Mitchell, and Lieutenants Bedell and M’Gregor were wounded, the two former severely; 8 rank and file were killed, and 22 wounded;[110] and 2 sergeants and 7 rank and file of the 3rd Battalion were wounded. Besides these losses in the Regiment they had to regret the loss of their leader in so many glorious fields, Major-General Robert Craufurd, who, soon after starting them from the San Francisco Convent with the inspiriting words, ‘Now, lads, for the breach,’ was struck down mortally wounded, and died on the 24th. He was buried with military honours at the foot of the breach his Division had so gallantly carried, borne to the grave by four Sergeant-Majors of his Division, and followed by Lord Wellington, his Staff, and the officers of his Division. Though not of the Regiment, he had led them in so many a glorious field that he seemed to be of them. At Buenos Ayres, in the retreat to Corunna, and now in Portugal and Spain, he had been their Brigadier or divisional General. At first dreaded and disliked for his strict rules of discipline and for his unswerving punishment of all breaches of them, he had come to be beloved by men and officers, who saw to what a pitch of excellence that code and that enforcement of it had brought the Division he commanded, making it the admiration or the envy of the whole army; who recognised that if he was exacting, he always was just; who felt that he cared for their wants or their comfort; and who knew that he always led them bravely, always to conquer. I am not writing a memoir of General Craufurd; yet two anecdotes connected specially with the Regiment I may here record.