The Story of a Peninsular Veteran: Sergeant in the Forty-Third Light Infantry, during the Peninsular WarAnonymous
History
The Story of a Peninsular Veteran: Sergeant in the Forty-Third Light Infantry, during the Peninsular War
Anonymous
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives, British
Coming events again introduced me to the army. In
November, 1819, the pensioners were called up for examination,
that those who were fit for service might be enrolled
as a veteran battalion. For that purpose I went to Carlow,
191and was deemed by the inspector fit for the duty required.
After continuing there several weeks, directions were received,
ordering that the whole of the sergeants, excepting
four or five, should be dispensed with. The matter was
decided among us by lot, and the decision happened to be
against me. As I was placed by this event in disadvantageous
circumstances, and excluded from the rank to which
I felt myself entitled, I at once enlisted in the 7th foot, intending
to serve my full period of time, and be thus ultimately
entitled to an increased pension. With this view I
resolved to conduct myself with strict propriety. But
what are human resolutions? Can the Ethiop change his
skin, or the leopard her spots? Just as soon can man reform
himself, independently of divine principles. Without
descending to particulars, I relapsed into conviviality and
habitual dissipation. Strong drink ruined all my existing
prospects. There were several religious men in the regiment,
who expostulated with me on the folly of such
conduct; but such were my ignorance and depravity, their
words were as an idle tale. Nor, in fact, was I in other
respects at home in the regiment. I missed the partners
of my former dangers and hard service, men who not only
talked of war, but had turned the tide of battle. We had
also certain interests in which we seemed to be proprietors
in common; and now I felt myself comparatively alone, and
among strangers. We lay for some time at Newcastle,
and from thence removed to Tynemouth Castle; while at
the latter place, I was the means, under Providence, of
saving the life of a fellow creature. During a heavy gale
of wind, a sloop was driven ashore near the barracks, and
all hands on board were in danger of perishing. The waves
broke frightfully over the deck, sweeping in their course
every moveable and threatening quick destruction to the
ship. The crew clung to the rigging with trembling and
uncertain grasp. Hundreds of spectators lined the shore
192but though all felt deep concern, none knew how to assist.
At last a rope was by some means conveyed from the vessel
to the beach, and soon after hauled tight; a young sailor
and myself then ventured on it, through the surf, and
reached the vessel in safety. Among others, the captain
threw himself overboard, but missed his hold of the rope,
and sank. He was under water some time, when I dived
in search of him, and having fortunately grasped him by
the hair, was able to raise his head above the surface of the
water. The next moment we were both struck by a powerful
wave, which sent us with rapidity on the shelving rocks,
where we were picked up by several persons who came to
assist. I was much exhausted for several hours, but in the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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