Beat the Drums Slowly (38 page)

For all the ghastly sights and smells of the makeshift hospital, Miss MacAndrews’ manners formed a reply before any conscious thought. ‘Good day to you, Colonel Graham.’ Her memory for names was excellent, even though the meeting with the elderly officer seemed an age or more in the past. ‘I trust that you are well?’

‘I am in robust health, I am pleased to say, but all the happier to come into the presence of such beauty.’ Jane’s dress was heavily stained with blood, and there were dabs of red on her face where she had unconsciously brushed it with bloodstained hands. Graham thought that she looked exhausted, and yet the smile that greeted him was so wide and warm that it genuinely lifted his already buoyant spirits. ‘But I am forgetting my manners. Good day to you other ladies.’ The colonel went so far as to raise his cocked hat to the soldiers’ wives. He was standing in the doorway, and now he turned to call to someone behind him. ‘Send for Mr Murray!’

Jane’s thoughts came slowly. For hours they had worked, doing what they could and somehow hoping that this little would be enough. ‘Has rescue come?’ The words were awkward, but they were the best she could frame. Jacob began to cry and the girl tried to tie the bandage in place on the wounded man so that she could tend to the infant.

‘Reckon he’s hungry,’ said Rose. ‘Greedy little beggar,’ she added.

Graham raised his voice a little to be heard. ‘Well, I am not sure that rescue is quite the right word. I am positive that your young Mr Williams will deny that he was in any such need. But, yes, we are here as reinforcement.’ He moved to let the surgeon come through the door. Murray blinked as he came into the gloomy room, and then gasped as his eyes adapted.

‘Work to do,’ he said to his two assistants.

Major Colborne of Sir John Moore’s staff stared at Williams and did his best to stifle a smile. In his pocket he had the ensign’s message to the general, carried by the German hussar. The words of the conclusion stuck in his mind.

It appears to me that it would be of utility to the army if we were to deny this crossing to the French. The bridge is narrow and offers us some chance of repulsing attacks even by a moderately stronger enemy force. At this moment, we have only heard reports of cavalry – a scouting force of one or two squadrons. No doubt should they secure the bridge, the enemy would be able to summon more troops to exploit the success. I have the equivalent of a company, although composed of men from many distinct corps, and two cannon
.

Therefore, I am resolved to stay here and hold for as long as possible, trusting that this decision by a junior officer will not be considered too presumptuous
.

I am, Sir, you most humble and obedient servant

H. Williams, Ensign, 106th Regiment

For an ensign to take such a decision was indeed presumptuous, however much he might make claims of humility. It also made perfect military sense.

Sir John immediately recognised the danger. If the French were able to outflank his position at Lugo in any strength, then not only would fighting a battle be impossible, but even retreat would be made more difficult. It meant that there was no longer much point delaying the withdrawal, but first he needed to ensure that this threat was blocked. The message had been written twenty-four hours ago, and there was no assurance that this ensign and his little force had not already been brushed aside.

His thoughts turned naturally to the brigade just arrived from Corunna, whose men were far fresher than the rest of the army.

‘Who are your best marchers, General Leith?’ he had asked its commander.

‘The Fifty-first, Sir John.’ The reply did not surprise Moore. They were a good corps and there was talk of training them as light infantry according to the system he had helped to develop at Shorncliffe Camp. Colborne was immediately given command of one wing of the battalion, and told to march at best speed to the bridge. With him went engineers and powder to destroy it if feasible. Now that he had arrived after marching through the night, that looked unlikely. The French had not attacked again, but the voltigeurs were still extended as skirmishers and fired at even the most fleeting target. The cavalry waited farther back, but were unlikely to watch passively if Colborne sent a company or two across the river.

Colborne listened to Williams’ formal report, as the ensign stood to attention in his ill-fitting jacket and thoroughly disreputable cap. A lot of men would have blustered and boasted. This young officer looked tired, and seemed almost embarrassed by what he had done. He kept praising his men, and particularly Mr Groombridge, and the dead sergeant and corporal. Colborne suspected that he might get a clearer account from the quartermaster sergeant at a later point. Williams appeared to doubt each of the decisions he had made, suggesting that a different plan might have cost fewer lives.

Both men turned as one of the guns boomed.

‘Mr Groombridge fires every five or ten minutes just to keep them honest,’ explained Williams, far more animated when he spoke of someone else’s action. ‘He is a good man, sir.’

‘Excellent, by the sound of it,’ agreed Colborne. He finally abandoned any thought of destroying the bridge. They would retreat. There was no sign that the enemy had enough strength to trouble five companies of steady infantry.

‘Cheer up, Mr Williams – you won!’ he said suddenly, clapping the ensign on the shoulder. ‘And it was a first-rate piece of soldiering.’ Williams looked at his feet, and muttered something incomprehensible.

‘When were you commissioned?’ asked the staff officer.

‘In August. I served as a volunteer from the start of the year.’

That helped to explain some of his reticence. The man clearly lacked the funds or connections to begin his career as an officer. That could leave a fellow with a sense of inadequacy, as if he did not quite deserve his rank. The date was also significant. Colborne had not landed until after the battles in Portugal, but the 106th had played a full part in both, and no doubt Williams had earned his commission through courage. His conduct in the last few days also suggested a considerable talent beyond mere bravery.

‘You have done well, sir, truly well, and I am sure that the general will feel the same.’ Graham was even more effusive in his praise as they marched back to the army. Williams marched with his remaining men, alongside their wagon, which was stripped of everything else so that it could carry the wounded and the women. Three of the injured were in no state to move, and they were left behind in the house in the confident expectation that the French would give whatever aid they possessed. The guns were abandoned, in spite of a brief protest from Groombridge.

‘The Spanish army has already left forty or more cannon beside the road, and I do not believe them capable of employing these usefully,’ said Colborne. Groombridge drove a spike into each touch-hole, and took the time to cut off the head so that it would be more difficult to pull it out. The old artilleryman then mounted his mule with the rearguard of the 51st and Colborne took the opportunity to quiz him about the recent action.

When it was clear that the French were not going to press the pursuit, Graham rode back to the wagon, but found Miss MacAndrews asleep, and so instead rode alongside Williams. The ensign had been offered the use of a horse, but stubbornly insisted on marching with the men. He was carrying the musket of one of the redcoats, who was struggling to keep up. Cooke, the big artilleryman, had no fewer than three firelocks strung over his shoulders as well as another man’s pack, and was strolling along as if they weighed nothing at all.

‘Splendid, Mr Williams, absolutely splendid.’ Colonel Graham’s delight appeared wholly sincere, and in spite of his age, he dismounted to walk beside the young officer. His appreciation was not restricted to the ensign. ‘You have all given the damned French a taste of British pluck! I do so wish I had been there. Sir John will be most pleased with your conduct.’

After half a mile the colonel grew restless. Colborne had caught up to check that they were coping with the rigours of the march. ‘Eh, John, what say you we ride up to that ridge and take a look. See if the Frogs are following close?’ Colborne nodded. ‘Don’t wait for an old man like me,’ said the colonel. ‘I’ll catch up as best I can.’ In less than a minute he was streaming ahead of the younger man, riding with all the abandoned enthusiasm of the hunting field.

It was dark by the time the column reached camp. At first, no one appeared to notice Williams and his men as they trudged the last few hundred yards. The camp was bustling, as the army’s baggage train began to move out.

Jane woke from her deep sleep just as they arrived. For the moment, she felt refreshed, and for a reason she could not fully explain did not want to ride in the wagon. She eased herself carefully over the tail of the cart, not worrying when she landed in a puddle and splashed yet more mud on to the hem of her stained dress. Then she insisted that Rose hand her down Jacob. The baby stirred for a moment, and it was somehow pleasant for the girl to hush him back to comfortable silence.

She waited for Williams to reach her, as he marched at the rear of his men. He returned her smile.

‘Thank you, for doing so much,’ he said softly.

Williams’ men crossed a bigger track, but he and Jane had to wait as three ox-drawn carts piled high with powder barrels passed. Their ungreased axles squealed in protest. Near by a mule started braying and set off a dozen more. Williams found the sheer noise overwhelming after the comparative peace of their march back from the bridge.

The last of the carts passed, its driver mercilessly prodding the team with his goad, and there were Major MacAndrews and his wife standing and looking at them.

Jane could see that there were tears in her mother’s eyes, and knew that her own were glassy. Esther MacAndrews ran to her daughter and kissed her. Neither of them could find words to say.

Her father waited for what seemed a long time. He was not a man who readily betrayed his emotions in public.

Suddenly he whooped, as she had only ever known him to do after drinking plenty of whisky and deciding to dance a reel.

Jane could not help laughing, even when her mother kissed her again.

Major MacAndrews, no longer caring whether or not his behaviour was appropriate for a battalion commander, threw his hat into the air, caught it, and whooped again. Then he ran to Jane and took hold of her, spinning her around. He made to lift her high into the air, and only her protests and a wail from the baby prevented him.

‘You silly old fool,’ said Mrs MacAndrews with the fondness of many years.

At last they noticed Williams.

‘It is good to see you, Mr Williams,’ said Jane’s mother. The major simply nodded and shook his hand firmly.

A staff officer was already with his men, sending each back to his own corps. Williams thanked them again. Jane and her parents waited for him, and together they all walked back to the battalion’s lines. Williams felt that he was swaying as he walked, the urge to lie down and sleep for ever closing around him. Sounds became muted, neither readily comprehensible nor in any way important, and although his eyes saw clearly, it took time for the images to register in his mind. His feet felt heavy, each step a conscious effort.

No one had the energy to speak, and the story would have to wait for a more fitting occasion. There even seemed to be a fear that if they spoke too much this would all turn out to be a dream. Major MacAndrews could feel nothing but joy at seeing his little girl safe and well. His mind had no room for anything else. Concerns and fears over what may have happened to his only daughter while she was traipsing around in the middle of a war were left to simmer as he went back to the battalion.

The Grenadier Company was forming up as they arrived. Pringle chuckled when he noticed the babe in Miss MacAndrews’ arms as she walked beside Williams. He nudged Hanley.

‘That’s damned quick work,’ he said.

Their amusement was drowned when the grenadiers began to cheer. It was soon taken up by the rest of the 106th, as men quickly guessed that it meant the prodigals had returned. Officers and men alike felt happier because of this good news, and it did something to lift spirits lowered by the order to continue the retreat instead of fighting Marshal Soult.

Dobson was briefly introduced to his grandson, before Miss MacAndrews carried the baby away. She had grown used to looking after him, and for the moment would continue to do so as she accompanied her mother and tried to keep the regiment’s families and baggage together. Mrs MacAndrews was almost as enthusiastic to care for the little boy. From somewhere she had found a side-saddle and had it fitted to Bobbie.

‘Oh well, I suppose I am used to walking by now.’ Billy Pringle did his best to sound morose and failed dismally, as a wide grin kept returning to his face. Then he cupped his hands to lift Jane into the saddle. Once she was settled, Mrs MacAndrews passed up little Jacob. Jane was weary, but cradling the baby in the crook of her arm immediately gave her energy and a sense of the need to care for someone else. She looked down at his peaceful face and smiled as she urged the mare into a walk.

Williams had little time to talk to anyone. He wanted to sleep and could never remember such exhaustion. People said things and he nodded and sometimes even said words in response, but none of it meant anything. An aide came, leading a horse, and telling him to attend on the general.