With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the PeninsulaBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Juvenile fiction
Jack picked up a paper, and promptly obliged him. "Here we are,"
he said. "Alfonso reports that following orders he has continued
to patrol the surroundings of the fortress. A covered carriage was
driven out just before dusk last evening. It was stopped and found to
be empty. The driver stated he was going to a country place to fetch
in an invalid. Later, when the carriage was well beyond our circle,
it stopped beside a convoy of carts going from the fortress. Sharp
questioning of the man in charge brought the admission that men were
hidden among the contents of the carts, two of whom were bound and
gagged. They were placed in the carriage, which was instantly driven
away down the road, and when our men arrived was out of hearing.
Though they searched, it was in vain. The scoundrel had got away with
his captives."
"And then?" asked Tom, listening without sign of emotion.
"Close enquiries here discovered the fact that a carriage had been
hired to take a gentleman to Madrid. That's all."
That indeed was all the information that our hero or his friends had
been able to come by. The strenuous efforts and the danger which Tom
had incurred in endeavouring to make an early entry into Badajoz had
resulted in nothing. The miscreant who gave information to the enemy
had slipped out with his captives, and there were our heroes none the
nearer to success. They were farther off, in fact, for there, on the
table, were orders taking them north to the Tagus, while it seemed
likely enough that Tom's father and uncle had been hurried east to
Madrid, where search for them, if ever the opportunity came, would be
long and difficult.
"Can't be helped. When orders allow, we'll make a rush for the city,"
said Tom. "Meanwhile, it's off to the Tagus!"
"To join the army again--hooray!" shouted Jack. "That means a big
general engagement; it means fighting, my boy! Perhaps it'll give us
both promotion."
Hard knocks, wounds, and exposure were more likely to be their
portion. But what did these two young officers care? What would other
officers of a similar age in these days care? Nothing. Rather they
were elated at the prospect of taking a share in a pitched battle,
and had not so much as a qualm when at length they reached the
neighbourhood of Salamanca. As for their men, confident now of their
ability to fight, proud of what they had already done, they marched
to their allotted quarters in the camp with a tramp and a swing that
commanded attention.
"General Lord Wellington's compliments," began a staff officer,
galloping up just as Tom had inspected his men, and had called upon
Jack to dismiss the parade. "Are you Lieutenant Clifford?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then have the goodness to ride over to headquarters at once; his
lordship desires to see you."
"Hooray!" cried Jack, careless of decorum, hurrying up at the moment.
"That'll mean business, my boy. The general's got a special job for
our guerrillas."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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