La Coruña, Battle of, La Coruña, Spain, 1809 -- Juvenile fiction; Moore, John, Sir 1761-1809 -- Juvenile fiction
"I have just two left, Terence, so we will smoke them together, and I have
got a bottle of dacent spirits. Think of that, me boy; thirty-two days
without spirits! They will never believe me when I go home and tell 'em I
went without it for thirty-two mortal days."
"Well, you have had wine, O'Grady."
"It's poor stuff by the side of the cratur, still I am not saying that it
wasn't a help. But it was cold comfort, Terence, a mighty cold comfort."
"You are looking well on it, anyhow. And how is the wound?"
"Och, I have nigh forgot I ever had one, save when it comes to ateing. Tim
has to cut my food up for me, and I never sit down to a male without
wishing bad cess to the French. When we get back I will have a patent
machine for holding a fork fixed on somehow. It goes against me grain to
have me food cut up as if I was a baby; if it wasn't for that I should not
miss my hand one way or the other. In fact, on the march it has been a
comfort that I have only had five fingers to freeze, instead of ten. There
is a compensation in all things. So we are going to fight them at last?
There is no chance of the fleet coming to take us off before that, I
hope?" he asked, anxiously, "for we should all break our hearts if we were
obliged to go without a fight."
"I don't think there is any chance of that, O'Grady, though I should be
very glad if there were. I am not afraid of the fighting, but we certainly
sha'n't win without heavy loss, and every life will be thrown away, seeing
that we shall, after all, have to embark when the battle is over. Ney,
with 50,000 men, is only two or three marches away.
"Well, Dicky, how do you do?" he asked, as Ryan came up.
"I am well enough, Mr. Staff Officer. I needn't ask after yourself, for
you have been riding comfortably about, while we have been marched right
off our legs. Forty miles a day, Terence, and over such roads as they have
in this country; it is just cruelty to animals."
"I would rather have been with you, Dicky, than see to the horrible
confusion that has been going on. Why, as soon as the day's march was over
we had to set to work to go about trying to keep order. A dozen times I
have been nearly shot by drunken rascals whom I was trying to get to
return to their corps. Worse still, it was heartrending to see the misery
of the starving women and camp-followers. I would rather have been on
outpost duty, with Soult's cavalry hovering round, ready to charge at any
moment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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