The Romance of Modern Sieges. Gilliat Edward
the Frenchmen great gratification, but there was nothing in their manner which could in any way offend.
Very unexpectedly one evening the Governor’s aide-de-camp came to the prison and told the officers to prepare immediately to go to France.
A Portuguese Captain, one of the party of prisoners, was dreadfully in fear of being sent there, and with great warmth of manner told the aide-de-camp that Lord Wellington would soon be in possession of the place, and if the prisoners were not forthcoming he would hold the Governor answerable in person.
It is supposed that the aide went and reported this conversation to the Governor, as he did not return for some time, and then told them it was too late to embark that night, as the boats had sailed. They were never afterwards threatened to be sent away.
About the middle of August the garrison began to flatter themselves that the siege was turned into a regular blockade, and that they would be relieved by the successes of Marshal Soult. Their spirits ran high, their hopes were elated.
The 15th of August, the birthday of Napoleon, was observed as a day of rejoicing among the garrison, and at nightfall the letter “N” of a very large size was brilliantly lighted up on the face of the donjon.
When the operations of the second siege began a Captain who visited the Colonel kept him au fait of all that was going on. One day a Spanish Captain who had sided with the French came into the hospital – it was on the evening of the assault. He was wringing his hands, tearing his hair, and swearing he had heard the shrieks of his wife and daughters, and had seen his house in flames. The French officers took the poor man’s outcries with great merriment, and the Spaniard must have bitterly regretted the day when he deserted the English. The French officers did not fail to taunt him with having done so, and ridiculed his frantic actions.
In the course of the next day Colonel Jones was asked if he would like to speak with a corporal of sappers who had been made prisoner during the sortie.
To his surprise, a fine, tall youngster, a stranger to him, walked into the ward, dressed in a red jacket. Now, blue was the colour when the Colonel was taken prisoner.
“When did you join the army, corporal?” he asked.
“Yesterday morning, Colonel. I was put on duty in the trenches last night, and in a few minutes I was brought into the town by the enemy.”
“I could not help laughing, though he wore a rueful expression,” says the Colonel.
One morning a Captain of artillery, whom he had never before seen, came into the ward and commenced conversing about the siege. He observed that the whole second parallel of the British trenches was one entire battery, and if there were as many guns as there were embrasures, he said, “we shall be joliment fouettés.”
The Colonel’s reply was: “Most assuredly you will. Depend upon it, there are as many guns as embrasures. It is not our fashion to make batteries and stick logs of wood into the embrasures in the hope of frightening the enemy.”
He made a grimace, and with a shrug of the shoulders left the ward.
Next morning the surgeon came, as usual, to dress the wounds. This was about half-past seven. All was still, and he joyously exclaimed, as he entered:
“So, gentlemen, we have another day’s reprieve!”
In about half an hour afterwards, whilst Colonel Jones was under his hands, the first salvo from the breaching batteries was fired. Several shot rattled through the hospital and disturbed the tranquillity of the inmates. The instrument dropped from the surgeon’s hands, and he exclaimed, “Le jeu sera bientôt fini!” Then very composedly the good doctor went on with his work.
The opening of the batteries made a great stir amongst all hands. A hint was given the prisoners to prepare to be removed into the castle. A private hint was given to the Colonel to be sage on the way up, as the Captain of the escort was méchant, and that it would be better to be quiet and orderly.
This, perhaps, was intended to deter any of them from attempting to escape. The wounded prisoners were moved in one body up the face of the hill to the entrance of the castle. Under the Mirador battery they were exposed to a sharp musketry fire. Some of the party were wounded, the Portuguese Captain severely.
A building on the sea-side, which had been constructed for a powder magazine, was now converted into their hospital, the interior being fitted up with wooden beds. In the area surrounding the building were placed the unwounded prisoners. As the number of wounded from the ramparts increased, the hospital filled rapidly, and to prevent the fire from the English batteries being directed upon them some of the prisoners were desired to hoist a black flag on the roof. While they were doing so the Colonel told the French officer that it was labour in vain, as the British had learnt that this building was their great depot for powder, and so hoisting a flag would be regarded as a ruse to preserve their ammunition. Little benefit did they get from the ensign. After the capture of the island Santa Clara, hardly could anyone move about that part of the castle opposite to the island without the risk of being hit. Grape and shrapnel swept the whole of the face, and it was only at night that fresh water could be fetched from the tank.
The garrison had a fixed idea that the assault would take place at night, so each morning they rose with happy faces – another twenty-four hours’ reprieve!
On the 31st of August, when the first rattle of musketry was heard in the castle, an inquiring look pervaded each countenance; but no one spoke. As the firing continued and the rattle grew and grew, little doubt remained as to the cause. Every soldier seized his musket and hurried with haste to his post. The Colonel was then ordered not to speak or hold converse with the unwounded prisoners outside. One French officer asked him if he thought that the English prisoners would remain quiet if an assault of the breach should take place, adding, “If they were to make any attempt they would all be shot.”
Colonel Jones replied: “Do not fancy you have a flock of sheep penned within these walls. Happen what may, shoot us or not, you will be required to give a satisfactory account of us when the castle is taken.”
From the commencement of the assault until the rush into the castle upon the capture of the town, not the slightest information could they obtain as to the state of affairs at the breach. The period that intervened was to the prisoners one of the most anxious and painful suspense. At last the tale was told by the awful spectacle of the interior of the hospital.
In an instant the ward was crowded with the maimed and wounded. The amputation-table was in full play, and until nearly daylight the following morning the surgeons were unceasingly at work.
To have such a scene passing at the foot of one’s bed was painful enough. Added to this the agonizing shrieks and groans and the appearance of the sappers and Grenadiers who had been blown up by the explosion in the breach, their uniforms nearly burnt off, and their skins blackened and scorched by gunpowder – all this was truly appalling. The appearance of these men resembled anything but human beings. Death soon put an end to their sufferings, and relieved all from these most distressing sights. Of all wounds, whether of fractured limbs or otherwise, those caused by burns from gunpowder seemed to produce the most excruciating pain.
In the rear of the donjon was a small building, in which was stored much gunpowder. Shells were falling fast and thick around it, so a detachment of soldiers was sent to withdraw the ammunition. This dangerous service they were performing in a most gallant manner, and had nearly completed their work, when some shells fell into the building, exploded the barrels that remained, and blew the building, with some of the soldiers, into the air, not leaving a vestige to show that such an edifice had stood there.
There were three French ladies in the garrison. They were on their way to France when the investment took place. These ladies were permitted to enter the hospital, and were allowed a small space at one end of the wooden bedsteads. There they were for several days and nights. The only water they could obtain to wash in was sea-water. As the number of the wounded increased, some of the officers who were lying upon the floor were loud in their complaints that madame and her daughters were occupying the space which properly belonged to them. They succeeded in getting the ladies turned out, to find shelter from shot and shell where best they