La Coruña, Battle of, La Coruña, Spain, 1809 -- Juvenile fiction; Moore, John, Sir 1761-1809 -- Juvenile fiction
"I am an officer on the English general's staff, and am proceeding on a
mission from him to the northern frontier to ascertain the best means of
defence, and the route that the enemy are most likely to move by if they
attempt to invade Portugal from that direction."
"The French general would hardly venture to do that," the officer said,
disdainfully, "when there will be 50,000 Portuguese to bar his way."
"He may be in ignorance of the force that will gather to meet him,"
Terence said, gravely, and with difficulty restraining a smile at the
confident tone of this leader of an armed mob. "However, I have my orders
to carry out. Do you not think," he said, turning to Herrara, "that it
will be better for us to go on to the next hamlet, if there is one within
two or three miles. I fear there is little chance of obtaining any
accommodation for our men here."
"There is no need for that," the Portuguese colonel broke in. "There is a
large house at the end of the village that is at present vacant; the
proprietor, who was a disturber of the peace, and who belonged to the
French faction, was killed last week in the course of a disturbance
created by him. I, as Commissioner of the Junta here, had the house closed
up, but it is quite at your service."
As the march had already been a long one, Terence thought it best to
accept the offer. The colonel called a man, who presently brought a key,
and accompanied them to the house in question. It showed signs at once of
mob violence. The snow in the garden was trampled down, the windows
broken, and one of the lower ones smashed in as if an entry had been
effected here. The door was riddled with bullet holes. Upon this being
opened the destruction within was seen to be complete, rooms being strewn
with broken furniture and litter of all sorts.
"At any rate there is plenty of firewood," the lieutenant said, as he
ordered his men to clear out one of the rooms. "There has been dastardly
work here," he went on, as the man who had brought the key left the place.
"Yes, I have no doubt the proprietor, whoever he was, has been foully
murdered, and as likely as not by the orders of that fellow we met, who
says he is Commissioner of the Junta. I should not be surprised if we have
trouble with him before we have done. I should think, Herrara, you had
better send off a couple of men to get what they can in the way of
provisions and a skin of wine. This is a cheerless-looking place, and
these broken windows are not of much use for keeping out the cold. Bull,
you had better see if you can find something among all this rubbish to
hang up in front of the window, for in its present state it merely creates
a draught."
The orderly went out, and returned with two torn curtains.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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