Joseph Addison and Others - "The De Coverley Papers"

Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson - "The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays"

Ruth Edna Kelley - "The Book of Hallowe'en"

Susie F. Harrison - "Crowded Out! and Other Sketches"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Under Wellington\'s Command

G >> G. A. Henty >> Under Wellington\'s Command




"I was inside last time it surrendered," Terence said, "but I
managed to make my way out with my regiment, after the explosion."

"I wonder whether Massena means to leave us at Ciudad, or to send
us on to Salamanca?"

"I should think that he would send us on," Terence replied; "he
will not want to have 300 men eating up the stores at Ciudad,
besides requiring a certain portion of the garrison to look after
them."

Terence's ideas proved correct and, without stopping at Ciudad, the
convoy of prisoners and wounded continued their march until they
arrived at Salamanca. Terence could not help smiling, as he was
marched through the street, and thought of the wild panic that he
and Dicky Ryan had caused, when he was last in that town. The
convent which the Mayo Fusiliers had occupied was now turned into a
prison, and here the prisoners taken at Fuentes d'Onoro were
marched, and joined those who had fallen into the hands of the
French during Massena's retreat. Among these were several officers
of his acquaintance and, as discipline was not very strict, they
were able to make themselves fairly comfortable together.

The French, indeed, along the whole of the Portuguese frontier, had
their hands full; and the force at Salamanca was so small that but
few men could be spared for prison duties and, so long as their
captives showed no signs of giving trouble, their guards were
satisfied to leave them a good deal to their own devices; watching
the gate carefully, but leaving much of the interior work of the
prison to be done by Spanish warders for, violent as the natives
were in their expressions of hatred for the French, they were
always ready to serve under them, in any capacity in which money
could be earned.

"There can be no difficulty, whatever, in making one's escape from
here," Terence said, to a party of four or five officers who were
lodged with him in a room, from whose window a view over the city
was obtainable. "It is not the getting out of this convent that is
difficult, but the making one's way across this country to rejoin.
I have no doubt that one could bribe one of those Spaniards to
bring in a rope and, even if that could not be obtained, we might
manage to make one from our blankets; but the question is, what to
do when we have got out? Massena lies between us and Ciudad and,
from what I hear the French soldiers say, the whole line is guarded
down to Badajoz, where Soult's army is lying. Victor is somewhere
farther to the south, and their convoys and cavalry will be
traversing the whole country. I speak Portuguese well, and know
enough of Spanish to pass as a Spaniard, among Frenchmen, but to
anyone who does not speak either language it would be next to
impossible to get along."

"I quite see that," one of the officers said, "and for my part I
would rather stay where I am, than run the risk of such an attempt.
I don't know a word of Spanish, and should be recaptured before I
had been out an hour. If I got away from the town I should be no
better off, for I could not obtain a disguise. As to making one's
way from here to Almeida, it would be altogether hopeless."

The others agreed, and one of them said:

"But don't let us be any hindrance to you, O'Connor. If you are
disposed to try, by all means do so and, if we can help you in any
way, we will."

"I shall certainly try," Terence said; "but I shall wait a little
to see how things go. It may be by this time Wellington has fallen
back again and, in that case, no doubt Massena will advance. We
heard as we came along that Marmont, with six divisions, is
approaching the frontier and, even if Wellington could maintain
himself on the Aqueda, Soult is likely to crush Beresford, and may
advance from Badajoz towards Lisbon, when the British will be
obliged to retire at once.

"To make one's way across the open country between this and Ciudad
would be easy enough; while it would be dangerous in the extreme to
enter the passes, while the French troops are pressing through them
on Wellington's rear. My Portuguese would, of course, be a
hindrance rather than a benefit to me on this side of the frontier;
for the Spaniards hate the Portuguese very much more heartily than
they do the French. You know that, when they were supplying our
army with grain, the Spanish muleteers would not bring any for the
use of the Portuguese brigades; and it was only by taking it as if
for the British divisions, and distributing it afterwards to the
Portuguese, that the latter could be kept alive. As a British
officer I should feel quite safe, if I fell into the hands of
Spanish guerillas; but as a Portuguese officer my life would not be
worth an hour's purchase."

Two days later came the news that a desperate battle had been
fought by Beresford at Albuera, near Badajoz. He had been attacked
by Soult but, after tremendous fighting, in which the French first
obtained great advantages, they had been at last beaten off by the
British troops; and it ended a drawn battle, the losses on both
sides being extraordinarily heavy. It was not until some time
afterwards that Terence learned the particulars of this desperate
engagement. Beresford had 30,000 infantry, 2000 cavalry, and 38
guns; but the British infantry did not exceed 7000. Soult had 4000
veteran cavalry, 19,000 infantry, and 40 guns.

The battle began badly. Blake with his Spaniards were soon disposed
of by the French and, in half an hour, the battle was all but lost;
a brigade of the British infantry being involved in the confusion
caused by the Spanish retreat, and two-thirds of its number being
destroyed. The whole brunt of the battle now fell upon the small
British force remaining. French columns pushed up the hill held by
them. The cannon on both sides swept the ground with grape. The
heavy French columns suffered terribly from the fire from the
English lines; but they pressed forward, gained the crest of the
rise and, confident of victory, were still advancing; when Cole and
Houghton's brigades came up and restored the battle, and the
British line, charging through a storm of grape and musketry, fell
upon the French columns and drove them down the hill again, in
confusion.

The Portuguese battalions had fought well, as had the German
regiment; but it was upon the British that the whole brunt of the
fight had fallen. In the four hours that the combat lasted, 7000 of
the allies and over 8000 of the French had been killed or wounded.
Of the 6000 British infantry, only 1800 remained standing when the
battle was over, 4200 being killed or wounded; 600 Germans and
Portuguese were placed hors de combat; while of the Spaniards, who
formed the great mass of the army, 2000 were killed or wounded by
the French artillery and musketry, or cut down while in disorder by
the French cavalry.

Never was the indomitable valour of British infantry more markedly
shown than at the battle of Albuera. The battle had been brought
on, in no small degree, by their anxiety for action. The regiments
had been disappointed that, while their comrades were sharing in
Wellington's pursuit of Massena, they were far away from the scene
of conflict; and when Beresford would have fallen back, as it would
have been prudent to do, they became so insubordinate that he gave
way to their desire to meet the French; and so fought a battle
where defeat would have upset all Wellington's plans for the
campaign, and victory would have brought no advantages with it.
Like Inkerman, it was a soldiers' battle. Beresford's dispositions
were faulty in the extreme and, tactically, the day was lost before
the fighting began.

The Spanish portion of the army did no real fighting and, in their
confusion, involved the loss of nearly the whole of a British
brigade; and it was only by the unconquerable valour of the
remainder of the British force that victory was gained, against
enormous odds, and that against some of the best troops of France.

Terence was in the habit of often going down and chatting with the
French guard at the gate. Their duties were tedious, and they were
glad of a talk with this young British officer, who was the only
prisoner in their keeping who spoke their language fluently; and
from them he obtained what news they had of what was going on. A
fortnight later, he gathered that the British force on the Aqueda
had been greatly weakened, that there was no intention of laying
siege to Ciudad, and it was believed that Wellington's main body
had marched south to join Beresford.

This was, indeed, the only operation left open to the British
general. Regnier's division of Marmont's army had joined Massena,
and it would be impossible to besiege Ciudad while a force, greatly
superior to his own, was within easy striking distance. On the
other hand, Beresford was in no position to fight another battle
and, as long as Badajoz remained in the hands of the French, they
could at any time advance into Portugal; and its possession was
therefore of paramount importance.

Marmont had succeeded Massena in command, the latter marshal having
been recalled to France; and the great bulk of the French army was
now concentrated round Salamanca, from which it could either march
against the British force at Ciudad; or unite with Soult and, in
overwhelming strength, either move against Cadiz or advance into
Portugal. Wellington therefore left Spencer to guard the line of
the Coa, and make demonstrations against Ciudad; while with the
main body of his army he marched south.

The news decided Terence to attempt to make his escape in that
direction. He did not know whether his own regiment would be with
Spencer, or Wellington; but it was clear that more important events
would be likely to take place near Badajoz than on the Coa. The
French would be unlikely to choose the latter route for an advance
into Portugal. The country had been stripped bare by the two armies
that had marched across it. The roads were extremely bad, and it
would be next to impossible for an army to carry with it sustenance
for the march; still less for maintaining itself after it had
traversed the passes. Moreover Spencer, falling back before them,
would retire to the lines of Torres Vedras; and the invaders would
find themselves, as Massena had done, baffled by that tremendous
line of fortifications, where they might find also Wellington and
his army, who would have shorter roads to follow, established
before they arrived.

Some of the townspeople were allowed to pass in and out of the
convent, to sell fruit and other articles to the British prisoners;
and Terence thought it better to open negotiations with one of
these, rather than one of the warders in French pay. He was not
long in fixing upon one of them as an ally. She was a good-looking
peasant girl, who came regularly with grapes and other fruit. From
the first, Terence had made his purchases from her, and had stood
chatting with her for some time.

"I want to get away from here, Nita," he said, on the day he
received the news of Wellington's march to the south.

"I dare say, senor," she laughed. "I suppose all the other
prisoners want the same."

"No doubt; but you see, they would not have much chance of getting
away, because none of them understand Spanish. I talk it a little,
as you see. So if I got out and had a disguise, I might very well
make my way across the country."

"There are many brigands about," she said, "and it is not safe for
a single man to travel anywhere. What do you want me to do?"

"I want a rope fifty feet long; not a very thick one, but strong
enough to bear my weight. That is the first thing. Then I want a
disguise; but that I could get, if a friend would be in readiness
to give it to me, after I had slid down the rope into the street."

"How could I give you a rope, senor, with all these people about?"

"You could put it into the bottom of your basket, and cover it over
with fruit. You could take your stand near the door, at the foot of
the stairs leading up to my room. Then I could, in the hearing of
the rest, say that it was my fete day; and that I was going to give
the others a treat, so that I would buy all your grapes. After we
had bargained for them, I could hand you the money and say:

"'Give me your basket. I will run upstairs, empty it, and bring it
down to you.'

"As this would save my making five or six journeys upstairs, there
would be nothing suspicious about that."

"I will think it over," the girl said, gravely. "I do not see that
there would be much danger. I will give you an answer tomorrow."

The next day she said, when Terence went up to her, "I will do it,
senor. I have a lover who is a muleteer. I spoke to him last night,
and he will help you. Tomorrow I will give you the rope. In the
afternoon you are to hang something out of your window; not far,
but so that it can be just seen from the street. That red sash of
yours will do very well. Do not let it go more than an inch or two
beyond the window sill, so that it will not attract any attention.

"When the clock strikes ten, Garcia and I will be in the street
below that window. This is a quiet neighbourhood, and no one is
likely to be about. Garcia will have a suit of muleteer's clothes
for you, and you can change at once. I will carry those you have on
to our house, and destroy them. Garcia will take you to his
lodging. He starts at daybreak with his mules, and you can travel
with them."

"Thank you most heartily, Nita. Here are five gold pieces, for the
purchase of the ropes and clothes."

"Oh, they will not cost anything like as much as that!" the girl
said.

"If they don't, you must buy yourself a little keepsake, Nita, in
remembrance of me; but I will send you something better worth
having, by Garcia, when I reach our army, and am able to get money
with which I can pay him for his labour and loss of time."

"I don't want money," the girl said, drawing herself up proudly. "I
am helping you because I like you, and because you have come here
to drive the French away."

"I should not think of offering you money, Nita. I know that it is
out of pure kindness that you are doing it; but you could not
refuse some little trinket to wear, on your wedding day."

"I may never get married," the girl said, with a pout.

"Oh, I know better than that, Nita! A girl with as pretty a face as
yours would never remain single, and I should not be surprised if
you were to tell me that the day is fixed already."

"It is not fixed, and is not likely to be, senor. I have told
Garcia that I will never marry, as long as the French are here. He
may go out with one of the partisan forces. He often talks about
doing so, and might get shot any day by these brigands. When I am
married, I am not going to stay at home by myself, while he is away
among the mountains."

"Ah! Well, the war cannot last for ever. You may have Wellington
here before the year is out. Give me your address, so that when we
come, I may find you out."

"Callao San Salvador, Number 10. It is one of my uncles I am living
with there. My home is in Burda, six miles away. It is a little
village, and there are so many French bands ranging over the
country that, a month ago, my father sent me in here to stay with
my uncle; thinking that I should be safer in the city than in a
little village. He brings fruit in for me to sell, twice a week."

"Very well. If we come here, I shall go to your uncle's and inquire
for you and, if you have left him, I will go out to your village
and find you."

All passed off as arranged, without the slightest hitch. Terence
took the girl's basket and ran upstairs with it, emptied the fruit
out on the table, thrust the rope under his bed, and ran down again
and gave Nita the basket. At ten o'clock at night he slung himself
from the window and after a hearty goodbye to his fellow
prisoners--several of whom, now that it was too late, would gladly
have shared in his adventure.

"I should be very glad if you were going with me, but at the same
time I own that I do not think we should get through. I question,
indeed, if the muleteer would take anyone who did not understand
enough Spanish to pass, if he were questioned by French soldiers;
and if he would do so, it would greatly increase the risk. At the
same time, if one of you would like to take my place, I will
relinquish it to you; and will, after you have gone off with the
muleteer, go in another direction, and take my chance of getting
hold of a disguise, somehow, and of making my way out."

None of the others would hear of this and, after extinguishing the
light, so as to obviate the risk of anyone noticing him getting out
of the window, Terence slipped down to the ground just as the clock
struck ten.

"Good evening, senor!" a voice said, as his feet touched the
ground. "Here is your disguise. Nita is watching a short distance
away, and will give us notice if anyone approaches. You had best
change, at once."

Terence took off his uniform and, with the assistance of the
muleteer, donned the garments that he had brought for him. Then he
rolled the others into a bundle, and the muleteer gave a low
whistle, whereupon Nita came running up.

"Thanks be to the saints that no one has come along!" she said, as
the rope, which Terence had forgotten, fell at their feet; his
companions having, as agreed, untied the upper end.

"That will come in useful," Garcia said, coiling it up on his arm.
"Now, senor, do not let us stand talking. Nita will take the
uniform and burn it."

"I will hide it, if you like," the girl said. "There can be no
reason for their searching our house."

"Thank you, Nita, but it would be better to destroy it, at once. It
may be a long time before I come this way again; besides, the
things have seen their best days, and I have another suit I can put
on, when I join my regiment. Thanks very much for your kindness,
which I shall always remember."

"Goodbye, senor! May the saints protect you!" and without giving
him time to say more, she took the bundle from Garcia's hand and
sped away down the street.

"Now, senor, follow me," he said, and turned to go in the other
direction.

"You had best call me Juan, and begin at once," Terence said. "If
by accident you were to say senor, in the hearing of anyone, there
would be trouble at once."

"I shall be careful, never fear," the man said. "However, there
would only be harm done if there happened to be a Frenchman--or one
of their Spaniards, who are worse--present. As to my own comrades,
it would not matter at all. We muleteers are all heart and soul
against the French, and will do anything to injure them. We are all
obliged to work for them; for all trade is at an end, and we must
live. Many have joined the partisans, but those who have good mules
cannot go away and give up their only means of earning a living;
for although the French pay for carriage by mules or carts, if they
come upon animals that are not being used, they take them without a
single scruple.

"Besides, there are not many partisans in this part of Spain. The
French have been too long in the valley here, and are too strong in
the Castiles for their operations. It is different in Navarre,
Aragon, and Catalonia; and in Valencia and Mercia. There the French
have never had a firm footing, and most of the strong places are
still in Spanish hands. In all the mountainous parts, in fact,
there are guerillas; but here it is too dangerous. There are bands
all over the country, but these are really but robbers, and no
honest man would join them.

"This is the house."

He turned in at a small doorway and unlocked the door, closing it
after them.

"Put your hand on my shoulder, Juan," he said. "I have a light
upstairs."

He led the way in darkness up a stone staircase, then unlocked
another door and entered a small room, where a candle was burning.

"This is my home, when I am here," he said. "Most of us sleep at
the stables where our mules are put up; but I like having a place
to myself, and my mate looks after the mules."

Nothing could have been simpler than the furniture of the room. It
consisted of a low pallet, a small table, and a single chair. In a
corner were a pair of saddlebags and two or three coloured
blankets. A thick coat, lined with sheepskin, hung against the
wall. In a corner was a brightly-coloured picture of a saint, with
two sconces for candles by the side of it. The muleteer had crossed
himself and bowed to it as he came in, and Terence doubted not that
it was the picture of a saint who was supposed to take a special
interest in muleteers.

From a small cupboard, the man brought out a flask of wine and two
drinking cups.

"It is good," he said, as he placed them on the table. "I go down
to Xeres sometimes, and always bring up a half octave of something
special for my friends, here."

After pouring out the two cups, he handed the chair politely to
Terence, and sat himself down on the edge of the pallet. Then,
taking out a tobacco bag and a roll of paper, he made a cigarette
and handed it to Terence, and then rolled one for himself.



Chapter 13: From Salamanca To Cadiz.


"Now, let us talk about our journey," the muleteer said, when he
had taken two or three whiffs at his cigarette. "Nita tells me that
you wish, if possible, to join your army near Badajoz. That suits
me well, for I have orders from a merchant here to fetch him twelve
mule loads of sherry from Xeres; and Badajoz is, therefore, on my
way. The merchant has a permit, signed by Marmont, for me to pass
unmolested by any French troops; saying that the wine is intended
for his use, and that of his staff. If it were not for that, there
would be small chance, indeed, of his ever getting it. There is so
little trade, now, that it is scarce possible to buy a flask of the
white wine of the south, here. Of course, the pass will be equally
useful going down to fetch it for, without it, my mules would be
certain to be impressed for service, by the French.

"So you see, nothing could have happened more fortunately for,
anywhere between the Tagus and Badajoz, we can turn off from
Estremadura into Portugal. It would not be safe to try near
Badajoz, for Soult's army is scattered all over there and, though
the pass would be doubtless respected by superior officers, if we
fell in with foraging parties they would have no hesitation in
shooting me, tearing up the pass, and carrying off my mules. For
your sake as well as my own, therefore, I would turn off and cross
the mountains--say, to Portalegre--and go down to Elvas. There you
would be with your friends; and I could cross again, further south,
and make my way down to Xeres."

"They say that two of Marmont's divisions started south,
yesterday."

"That is unfortunate, for they will leave little behind them in the
way of food and drink; and we shall find it better to travel by
by-roads. I should not mind being impressed, if it were only for
the march down to Badajoz; but once with an army, there is no
saying how long one may be kept."

"If we find any difficulty in crossing into Portugal this side of
Badajoz, I shall not mind going down to Cadiz. I should have no
difficulty, there, in getting a ship to Lisbon."

"Well, we shall see," the muleteer said. "We will go the short way,
if we can. I hate the Portuguese, and they are no fonder of us; but
with you with me, of course, I should not be afraid of interference
from them."

"But the Portuguese are fighting on our side, and aiding us to help
you."

"Yes, because they think it is better that the war should be
carried on here than in their own country. Besides, from what I
hear, it is with no goodwill that they fight under your British
general; but only because he tells them that, unless they furnish
so many troops, he will have nothing more to do with them, but will
sail away with his army to England."

"That may be true, Garcia; but you know that when we were here--for
I was with the British army that marched through Salamanca--the
Spanish authorities were no more willing to assist than were the
Portuguese; and not a single soldier--with the exception of two or
three thousand half-armed men under Romana--joined, from the day we
crossed the frontier to that on which we embarked to Corunna."

"The authorities are all bad," Garcia said scornfully. "They only
think of feathering their own nests, and of quarrelling among
themselves. The people are patriots, but what can they do when the
Juntas keep the arms the English have sent us in their magazines,
and divide the money among themselves? Then our generals know
nothing of their business, and have their own ambitions and
rivalries. We are all ready to fight; and when the drum is beaten
and we are called out, we go willingly enough. But what do we do
when we go out? We are marched backwards and forwards without
motive; the officers are no good; and when at last we do see the
French we are always beaten, and the generals and the officers are
the first to run away.

"We ought in the first place to rise, not against the French, but
against the Juntas, and the councillors, and the hidalgos. Then,
when we have done with them, we ought to choose officers from among
ourselves, men that have done good service as leaders of partisans.
Then we could meet the French. We are brave enough, when we are
well led. See how the people fought at Saragossa, and since then at
Gerona, and many other places. We are not afraid of being killed,
but we have no confidence in our chiefs."

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