NIGHTS IN THE GUARD-HOUSE. No. IV.

“Come, you Jack Andrews, lave off your caperin’ about there, and give us that song the Captain made on the bowld Guerilla,” said private Mulligan to his comrade, who was taking a lesson from Lance-Corporal Brogan on the Ballycraggen1 pushing-step, to set his blood into circulation; 2 for he had been just relieved from a two hours’ stand upon the side of as bleak a mountain as ever sentry stood upon; where the keen winds of a cold frosty night had full play upon his patient and good-humoured countenance.

“Make room, then, and let me have the next place to the hob,” replied Jack. He was very soon accommodated with the desired seat; for Andrews was a good singer, and a still better story-teller: he had seen a great deal of service, although a young man, and from his uncommonly retentive memory could detail the most minute circumstances of his campaigns; he therefore was the very life of the guard-room; and the men of the regiment used to say, that if Jack Andrews and Corporal Callaghan were but along with them, they would not refuse two extra guards in the week.

The fire was soon surrounded, and Peninsular Bob, the sergeant of the guard, bestirred himself from his snooze in the old arm chair, right in front of the hearth, to listen to the fine voice and admire the musical taste of Jack Andrews.

“Why,” said Jack, “the song of ‘The Guerilla’ is a very sweet thing, when sung by two voices; but without two it is not quite so good. Corporal 3 Callaghan knows it well, and has often sung it with me; so as soon as he returns from relieving the sentries, I’ll sing the song with him, if you can persuade him to it. He knows the air better than I do, for he learnt it from the Guerillas themselves when there was a troop of them at Tolosa, and I learnt it from him; but if you have no objection, lads, I’ll sing a song which the Captain wrote to a fine bold and romantic French air, which I have heard the French soldiers singing many a night, close to my own post.”

Of course, the proposal was received unanimously; and when silence was perfectly restored, (for all spoke on the subject at once,) Jack Andrews sang the following song, first having taken the precaution of shutting the door, lest he might happen to be heard outside although there was very little danger of being surprised by any of the officers in his melodious dereliction from strict military practice.

THE SENTINEL.

This, sung in admirable style by the manly voice of Jack Andrews, had a powerful effect upon the listeners, for the air was of a romantically martial character, composed during the best days of Napoleon’s glory, when chivalric enthusiasm infused itself into every shade of French imagination. 5 There was not a man of the guard who had not served in the Peninsula during the brightest period of England’s military grandeur, when she stood opposed to Napoleon’s greatest heroes; and from a recollection of the scenes of that time, awakened by the song, there arose a feeling in every breast around the humble hearth of Ballycraggen Guard-house, which commanders might have envied, and philosophers admired. It brought all back to the romance of war; it placed them in situations familiar to their fancy; it touched the most delightful chord of the soldier’s heart, and every tongue became eloquent upon the source of its sensations. There is no sign in Nature’s mnemonics like music: it is a talisman of power. Moore has beautifully expressed this in

poetry, but not so effectually as the following lines, attributed to the unfortunate Ensign Dermody.

Bob the sergeant spoke more than any one else on the subject of the song;—“That’s a ’nation good thing, Jack,” said he; “it puts me in mind of many a one of my night-guards when I was a private. D—me but it made me think I was on the side of a hill on the advanced-posts, stuck behind a tree, or the corner of a rock, watching the enemy in the moonshine of a fine summer’s night, just as I was immediately before the first battle Sir Arthur ever fought in Portugal. I think I’m there now: it was at Roliça. I was on sentry that night, on a hill, close to the enemy. It was as fine and as calm a night as ever was seen. The French were posted thick upon the heights in front of us—infernal steep and craggy precipices, where it was almost impossible to come at them. There was I about three hundred yards in front of 7 them. On this advanced-post I was the sentry, and was just leaning against an old windmill, looking out at the French vidette, who was stuck on horseback, like the statue at Charing Cross, right out upon a high rock, at the top of a hill.

The moon was rising behind him, and I could see the figure of the fellow and his horse just like one of those black shadows they cut out in card. The whole country round was one of the most beautiful pictures in the world. Down under my eyes was a little wood of lightish-coloured trees, (cork, I believe,) a small stream at the end of it: all along, to the distance of about two miles, I could see different old convents, and houses beset with orange and olive-trees; and the moonlight threw such a beautiful colouring over them that I could not help feeling melancholy.—You may smile, lads, but I was a young man then, and only a few days in a foreign country: I could almost smell the sea-air; for we were only three miles from the beach, along which we had been so lately sailing: I had not been many weeks away from a comfortable home—father, mother, sweetheart and all: I was then standing between two great armies, ready 8 to start upon each other: and I did not know but the next day would see my first fight and my last hour. I’ll leave it to any man here, who ever

was in any thing like such a situation, to say, whether it is not calculated to make an impression on the feelings.”

“Oh, by my sowl! and that it is, sargeant,” replied private Mulligan; “particularly when you are not a long time at the work.”

“Well,” continued the sergeant, “it was at that old windmill I heard the song of ‘The Sentinel’ first, from one of the enemy, who was sitting with four or five others on the top of one of the heights; and when he was done, a crowd of our fellows, about two or three hundred yards from me, gave him three rounds of applause. The night was so still, that you could hear the cocking of a musket half a mile off, and the song went most melodiously. God knows whether the poor fellow ever sang another song! for the next day there was no singing, but plenty of dancing, to the tune of ‘over the hills and far away,’ and I rather think we made the French pay the piper.”

“Bluranouns! tell us how it was, sargeant,” 9 exclaimed Mulligan, with an anxious smile, and a chuckling twist of his hands. The sergeant was not sorry to have such a favour asked of him, and he did not lose a moment in complying with the request, which now became general.

“After I was relieved that night, I lay down in my guard-coat on some Indian-corn straw, behind a wall or sort of pent-house, where our advanced piquet was, and I slept a couple of hours; after which Tom Singleton and I smoked a little while, out of a short stump of a pipe, which Tom brought with him from England, and warmed our gobs with a drop out of the canteen. It was broad daylight, and we got up to look out at the heights over the wall; for the officer of the piquet was very busy with his spy-glass reconnoitring, and we knew we were soon to begin a little bit of business with the Mounseers.

“Every body thought Sir Arthur would not let us be long before we should be ordered to be ready,—for he looked like a sharp one. We had not been many minutes leaning over the wall, when we saw the blue fellows moving along the height immediately in front of us, as if to take up a position 10 on their own extreme left; and, presently, four or five officers—I suppose the General and his staff—appeared where the vidette was posted, and planted an eagle-flag on the highest point of the hill; after which all drew their swords, took off their hats, and saluted it. Thinks I, ‘Sir Arthur will pay his addresses to that same flag before long.’ The French General took damned good care to place the eagle on the top of a rock, where the boys could not scale her nest very easily.

“The piquet was very soon after relieved; and when we had been with the bivouac of our regiment about a couple of hours, we were all ordered out under arms, along with the other regiments of the brigade. ‘Ho, ho!’ says I to my comrade, ‘there will be something going on very quickly, you may depend upon it.’ We stood behind a line of loose trees and bushes quite covered from the enemy’s view. I could see that other brigades were also under arms, at about a quarter of a mile off; in short, between every opening of either walls, or woods, or houses, upon each plain and little open hill within view, I could see the red coats either drawn up like ourselves, or moving 11 along at quick time with their arms and accoutrements glistening like glass. All the army seemed on the alert—several pieces of artillery passed us down the road towards the front, and Sir Arthur himself was galloping about with his staff giving directions. He once stopped behind a small house along with General Crawford, who commanded us, and showed him a large map, as if pointing

out something very important; after which our General came back to where the brigade was, under the trees, and talked for ten minutes or so to Colonel Lake, our commanding officer, (God rest his soul, he was not long alive after that!) I could see by the men’s faces and their manners, that they expected something which was strange to them; but still they were joking and laughing: the officers were uncommonly pleasant, particularly the young ones. It was a most delightful morning—only a little too hot; but we were under the trees, and tolerably well shaded from the effects of the sun. A Portuguese muleteer just then came out from a sandy narrow lane, with a pannier full of grapes and oranges, and the men at the flank of the regiment where I was, were helping 12 themselves to the welcome fruit, which they purchased for little or nothing, when an Aid-de-camp came galloping down the road behind where we were formed, and spoke a few words to General Crawford; then galloped away again. We were helping ourselves to the grapes and oranges, which,

with our bread, made a good breakfast, when the word was given “attention,” and the feast was at an end. The whole of the brigade instantly formed into close column, and we moved out towards the front, still covered by the wood, and were joined by three other brigades, all forming into one solid column. As we marched on, there was not a word spoken, except an occasional command from the officers. We knew not what was to be expected; but guessed, from seeing a brigade of artillery not far on our right, ready at their guns, silent and waiting the word. There seemed to be scarcely a breeze or a fly to disturb the silence of that fine summer’s day, and the business upon which all were engaged:—an awful silence it was—nothing to be heard but the soft tread of our feet, as we moved over the heath, and the grass, and the sand.

We were now halted—still in the wood; but 13 within half-shot of the heights; and the French guns were not idle whenever any of our forces were to be seen; but we were completely covered. Two other brigades now joined us, and the whole of us were formed into one close column. A finer body of fellows never stood together. We did not halt many minutes; and during these few minutes the General officers and staff were very busy—riding up and down the column, and giving orders, as coolly and as calmly as if they were in the barrack-yard; but their countenances were expressive of a seriousness, which I never saw upon a parade—they seemed as if they were not now playing soldiers, but on the point of going to work like good ones. Our Colonel now addressed us in a short but striking manner. He hoped we would show that the regiment was worthy its name. I think his eye met every one of ours. I never saw a man say so much by his looks in my life:—we all knew what he meant, and although we could not speak our mind, we showed it by our faces. I know the tears came into my eyes,

and I did not know why; for I could have jumped into a mortar’s mouth at the time, and taken a 14 mile’s ride on a shell; but the fact is, it was the brotherly kindness Colonel Lake felt for us, and the pride he took in the old 29th, which affected me.”

“Oh, faith!” said Mulligan, “It’s not always grief nor sorrow that makes a body’s eyes wathery, sargeant.”

“Well, the moment all was ready, there was nothing but a dead silence. Every man—Generals and all—were in their places. A minute or two would take the column out from the wood, and then ‘ware hawk’ from the guns on the heights. ‘Steady, men,’—‘Forward!’ The curtain was soon up. Bang went the artillery of the French—right into our column, as it poured out from the wood; and rattle went our artillery on the right also, to support us. We moved on steady towards the bed of a stream (quite dry) that winded up the hill: it was about as broad as this room; and so steep that we must have bent a good deal to have got up it: through this passage we were to go and make our way up to the French fellows. On we moved for about three hundred yards under the fire, without being much injured; 15 at all events, it did not make a great difference in our column, although I stood upon three or four poor fellows as I advanced, who had fallen. I could see on my left, at a good distance, a large body of our troops moving on also; and this gave

us still more confidence. We were getting vexed from the fire above by the time we got to the passage up the hill, and our fellows began to swear vengeance against the Mounseers. If we could have got up in any numbers at once, I really think we would have eaten the damned rascals; but we were obliged to go—not more than four or five abreast; and had to stumble our way over lumps of stones as big as the big drum. Our orders were to get up as fast as possible, and form above as soon as we had made good our ground. We scarcely lost a man killed or wounded in going up the hill through the crags and stones, until we came nearly to the top. Here the way was a little wider, and our Colonel formed us up in a pretty fair sort of way, giving us the word to advance at double-quick time; when out comes a volley from a green mound of earth in front of us and right in the middle of the way. This mound was 16 covered with bushes, and from behind these the firing came: it was by a set of riflemen who were posted there in ambush: but when they fired they

ran like devils back—every one of them, except a few that fell on their faces; for we gave them a volley that knocked them over in good style. Several of my comrades dropped at this point, and our poor Colonel too. He laid himself up against the side of the bank, and although scarcely able to breathe, smiled, and pointed with his sword to go on. We never stopped, but mounted like tigers to the top, although half a regiment let slap at us from the opening. Oh! if they had only stood till we could have got our bayonets into them! but they ran off to about a hundred yards distance, and in a few moments our regiment and two others were up and formed as compactly as you please, when we received another volley from the French, at both sides and in front—thick as hail. Many of our men fell, but we closed up, and did not miss them. ‘Let us at them,’ was heard from many mouths. Vexed and impatient, we soon had the word ‘Charge!’ The French were in full line, and so were we: they advanced to meet us like men,—damned 17 beardy, tall, raw-boned grenadiers, with

long grey frock-coats and red-worsted epaulettes. On we went; and when within about ten yards of them, we all gave a yell,—‘Hurrah!’ and Oh, Christ!—We dashed at them,—they huzza’d as well as ourselves; but in a moment every English bayonet was bloody to the hilt. Over they went; and the rear-rank of the French, although they stood a little, and did some execution, was soon settled. We butted them when we were tired sticking them. I broke my musket by a blow I made at a fellow, and missed him; but I jumped at his throat, although he was a tall man, and pulled him right down; however, there I left him, and ran after my regiment; for he lost his musket, and must have been taken prisoner by the troops advancing into the field. The French, now at our right and left, opened a fire on us, which knocked many a poor fellow off the hooks, and we fell back to the main-body of our troops; for we were only treating the enemy with a few steel lozenges, while the remainder of the column was getting up the hill; and how they got up so soon I cannot imagine.

I did not think we were five minutes at 18 work in all, when I turns and sees the whole column formed in line, and the right of it pelting away, volley after volley, at the French, who now showed an immense front. It was a sort of even ground enough, but covered with grape stumps, and loaded with bunches; however the grape-shot was of more consequence to me, so I never minded touching the grape fruit. There was nothing done for half an hour but banging away with the musketry and a few of the French guns; but while this was going on, our men were getting up the hill, and forming in our rear as fast as possible. Men were dropping, both French and English, quick enough, I assure you; and we were longing for another charge, to put an end to the peppering. This we were soon indulged with. ‘Steady, my lads,’ was the cry from the officers, ‘another taste of the bayonet.’ The French formed a strong first line, and their battalions in the rear were forming into a second. ‘Now, men,’ says a General who rode behind our first line, ‘keep steady, and do your

duty.’—‘Charge!’ was the word:—in a moment we were not forty yards from the enemy.—‘Hurrah!’—Oh such a shout as we gave! But it was 19 answered by the French every bit as loud; and they did not flinch. At them we went, like devils again; and down they went like twigs. They found it was no use trying it,—they were knocked about; and although they did as much as men could do, they were obliged to start about (those that were not down) and make the best of their way off. We halted and loaded, as steady as rocks—most of our gun-barrels were streaming with blood, which wetted the powder as it went in. I’m sure that was my case; for when we gave them a volley, I know my musket did not go off, so I threw it away, and took up another from one of our poor fellows, who lay on his face behind us, with his head knocked all to pieces. I’m certain it was Jem Ellis, by a ring on his finger; but you didn’t know Jem, poor fellow! that ring was given to him by a sweet little girl the day we embarked, and he intended to marry her if God spared his life; but unfortunately