Under Wellington's Command: A Tale of the Peninsular WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
Under Wellington's Command: A Tale of the Peninsular War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Historical fiction; Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Juvenile fiction
"That is right. When we get back I will apply for you as my
adjutant, if I get the command of the regiment again."
Chapter 4: Guerillas.
The marches were short, as many of the prisoners were still weak
and, indeed, among their guard were many convalescents who had
recently been discharged from the hospital at Toledo, and who were
going back to France. The little column was accompanied by four
waggons, two of which were intended for the conveyance of any who
should prove unable to march; and the others were filled with
provisions for consumption by the way, together with a few tents,
as many of the villages that would be their halting places were too
small to afford accommodation for the 400 men, even if every house
was taken up for the purpose. Although the first day's march was
only twelve miles, the two empty waggons were quite full before
they reached their halting place; and many of the guard had placed
their guns and cartridge boxes on the other carts.
It was now the middle of August, and the heat in the valley of the
Tagus was overpowering. The convoy, however, had marched at six in
the morning; and halted at eight, in the shade of a large olive
wood; and did not continue its march until five in the afternoon.
The night was so warm that the English prisoners, and many of their
guards, preferred lying down in the open and throwing the blanket
(with which each had been furnished) over him to keep off the dew,
to going into the stuffy cottages, where the fleas would give them
little chance of rest.
On the third day they arrived at the village of Escurial. The next
morning they began to mount the pass over the Sierra, and slept
that night in an empty barracks, at Segovia. Here they left the
main road leading through Valladolid and took one more to the east,
stopping at small villages until they arrived at Aranda, on the
Douro. Thence they marched due north, to Gamonal.
They were now on the main road to the frontier, passed through
Miranda and Zadorra, and began to ascend the slopes of the
Pyrenees. The marches had, for some days, been considerably longer
than when they first started. The invalids had gained strength and,
having no muskets to carry, were for the most part able to march
eighteen or twenty miles without difficulty. Four had been left
behind in hospital at Segovia, but with these exceptions all had
greatly benefited by steady exercise, and an ample supply of food.
"I could do a good deal of travelling, in this way," one of the
officers said, as they marched out from Miranda. "Just enough
exercise to be pleasant; no trouble about baggage or route, or
where one is to stop for the night; nothing to pay, and everything
managed for you. What could one want for, more?"
"We could do with a little less dust," Dick Ryan said, with a
laugh; "but we cannot expect everything."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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