Under Wellington\'s Command

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[Illustration: A shell had struck Terence's horse.]

A shell had struck Terence's horse and, bursting, had carried off
the rider's leg above the knee. The men near him uttered a
simultaneous cry as he fell and, regardless of the fight, oblivious
to the storm of shot and shell, had knelt beside him. Terence was
perfectly sensible.

"Do one of you give me my flask out of my holster," he said, "and
another cut off the leg of my trousers, as high as you can above
the wound. That is right. Now for the bandages."

As every soldier in the regiment carried one in his hat, half a
dozen of these were at once produced.

"Is it bleeding much?" he asked.

"Not much, colonel."

"That is fortunate. Now find a smooth round stone. Lay it on the
inside of the leg, just below where you have cut the trousers.

"Now put a bandage round and round, as tightly as you can do it.
That is right.

"Now take the ramrod of one of my pistols, put it through the
bandage, and then twist it. You need not be afraid of hurting me;
my leg is quite numbed, at present. That is right.

"Put another bandage on, so as to hold the ramrod in its place. Now
fetch a flannel shirt from my valise, fold it up so as to make a
pad that will go over the wound, and bandage it there firmly.

"Give me another drink, for I feel faint."

When all was done, he said:

"Put my valise under my head, and throw my cloak over me. Thank
you, I shall do very well now. Go forward and join the regiment.

"I am done for, this time," he thought to himself, when the men
left him. "Still, I may pull through. There are many who have had a
leg shot off and recovered, and there is no reason why I should not
do so. There has not been any great loss of blood. I suppose that
something has been smashed up, so that it cannot bleed.

"Ah, here comes the doctor!"

The doctor was one of several medical students who had enlisted in
the regiment, fighting and drilling with the rest but, when
occasion offered, acting as surgeons.

"I have just heard the news, Colonel. The regiment is heartbroken
but, in their fury, they went at the French facing them and
scattered them like sheep. Canovas, who told me, said that you were
not bleeding much, and that he and the others had bandaged you up
according to your instructions.

"Let me see. It could not have been better," he said.

He felt Terence's pulse.

"Wonderfully good, considering what a smash you have had. Your
vitality must be marvellous and, unless your wound breaks out
bleeding badly, I have every hope that you will get over it. Robas
and Salinas will be here in a minute, with a stretcher for you; and
we will get you to some quiet spot, out of the line of fire."

Almost immediately, four men came up with the stretcher and, by the
surgeon's orders, carried Terence to a quiet spot, sheltered by a
spur of the hill from the fire.

"There is nothing more you can do for me now, doctor?"

"Nothing. It would be madness to take the bandages off, at
present."

"Then please go back to the others. There must be numbers there who
want your aid far more than I do.

"You can stay with me, Leon; but first go back to where my horse is
lying, and bring here the saddle and the two blankets strapped
behind it. I don't feel any pain to speak of, but it seems to me
bitterly cold."

The man presently returned with the saddle and blankets. Two others
accompanied him. Both had been hit too seriously to continue with
the regiment. Their wounds had been already bandaged.

"We thought that we should like to be near you, colonel, if you do
not mind."

"Not at all. First, do each of you take a sip at my flask.

"Leon, I wish you would find a few sticks, and try to make a fire.
It would be cheerful, although it might not give much warmth."

It was dark now. It was five o'clock when the 3rd division threw
itself across Maucune's line of march, and the battle had begun. It
was dark long before it ended but, during the three hours it had
lasted, the French had lost a marshal, seven generals, and 12,500
men and officers, killed, wounded, or prisoners; while on the
British side a field marshal, four generals, and nearly 6000
officers and soldiers were killed or wounded. Indeed, the battle
itself was concentrated into an hour's hard fighting; and a French
officer, describing it, said that 40,000 men were defeated in forty
minutes.

Presently the din of battle died out and, as soon as it did so,
Herrara and Ryan both hurried to the side of Terence.

"My dear Terence," Ryan said, dropping on his knees beside him,
"this is terrible. When I heard the news I was almost beside
myself. As to the men, terrible as their loss is, they talk of no
one but you."

"I think I shall pull through all right, Ryan. At any rate, the
doctor says he thinks I shall, and I think so myself. I am heartily
glad that you and Herrara have gone through it all right. What are
our losses?"

"I don't know, yet. We have not had time to count, but not far from
half our number. Macwitty is killed, Bull desperately wounded.
Fully half the company officers are killed."

"That is terrible indeed, Ryan. Poor fellows! Poor fellows!

"Well, I should say, Herrara, that if you get no orders to join in
the pursuit, you had best get all the wounded collected and brought
here, and let the regiment light fires and bivouac. There is no
chance of getting medical assistance, outside the regiment,
tonight. Of course, all the British surgeons will have their hands
full with their own men. Still, I only suggest this, for of course
you are now in command."

The wounded had all fallen within a comparatively short distance,
and many were able to walk in. The rest were carried, each in a
blanket, with four men at the corners. Under Ryan's directions, the
unwounded scattered over the hillside and soon brought back a large
supply of bushes and faggots. A number of fires were lighted, and
the four surviving medical students, and one older surgeon, at once
began the work of attending the wounded; taking the more serious
cases first, leaving the less important ones to be bandaged by
their comrades. Many wounded men from other regiments, attracted by
the light of the fires, came up; and these, too, received what aid
the Portuguese could give them.

The next morning Terence was carried down, at daybreak, on a
stretcher to Salamanca; where the town was in a state of the
wildest excitement over the victory. As they entered the gates, an
officer asked the bearers:

"Who is it?"

"Colonel O'Connor, of the Minho regiment."

The officer knew Terence personally.

"I am sorry, indeed, to see you here, O'Connor. Not very serious, I
hope?"

"A leg cut clean off above the knee, with the fragment of a shell,
Percival; but I fancy that I am going to get over it."

"Carry him to the convent of Saint Bernard," the officer said, to
the Portuguese captain who was in command of the party, which
consisted of 400 men carrying 100 wounded. "All officers are to be
taken there, the others to the San Martin convent.

"I will look in and see you as soon as I can, O'Connor; and hope to
find you going on well."

But few wounded officers had as yet been brought in and, as soon as
Terence was carried into a ward, two of the staff surgeons examined
his wound.

"You are doing wonderfully well, colonel," the senior officer said.
"You must have received good surgical attention, immediately on
being wounded. Judging by your pulse, you can have lost but little
blood."

"It hardly bled at all, Doctor, and I had it bandaged up by two of
my own men. I have seen a good many serious wounds, in the course
of the last four years; and know pretty well what ought to be
done."

"It has been uncommonly well done, anyhow. I think we had better
not disturb the bandages, for a few days. If no bleeding sets in by
that time, clots of blood will have formed, and you will be
comparatively safe.

"Your pulse is very quiet. Your men must have carried you down very
carefully."

"If I had been a basket of eggs, they could not have taken more
care of me. I was scarcely conscious of any movement."

"Well, you have youth and good health and good spirits in your
favour. If all our patients took things as cheerfully as you do,
there would not be so many of them slip through our hands."

Bull, who had been brought in immediately after Terence, was next
attended to. He was unconscious. He had been struck by a round shot
in the shoulder, which had not only smashed the bone, but almost
carried away the upper part of the arm.

"An ugly wound," the surgeon said to his colleague. "At any rate,
we may as well take off the arm while he is unconscious. It will
save him a second shock, and we can better bandage the wound when
it is removed."

A low moan was the only sign that the wounded man had any
consciousness that the operation was being performed.

"Will he get over it, Doctor?" Terence asked, when the surgeon had
finished.

"There is just a chance, but it is a faint one. Has he been a sober
man?"

"Very; I can answer for the last four years, at any rate. All the
Portuguese officers were abstemious men; and I think that Bull felt
that it would not do for him, commanding a battalion, to be less
sober than they were."

"That increases his chance. Men who drink have everything against
them when they get a severe wound; but he has lost a great deal of
blood, and the shock has, of course, been a terrible one."

An orderly was told to administer a few spoonfuls of brandy and
water, and the surgeon then moved on to the next bed.

Chapter 21: Home Again.

The next morning, one of the surgeons brought a basketful of fruit
to Terence.

"There is a young woman outside, colonel," he said, with a slight
smile, "who was crying so bitterly that I was really obliged to
bring this fruit up to you. She said you would know who she was,
and was heartbroken that she could not be allowed to come up to
nurse you. She said that she had heard, from one of your men, of
your wound. I told her that it was quite impossible that any
civilian should enter the hospital, but said that I would take her
fruit up and, if she would come every day at five o'clock in the
afternoon, when we went off duty for an hour, I would tell her how
you were going on."

"She used to sell fruit to the prisoners here," Terence said, "and
it was entirely by her aid that I effected my escape, last year;
and she got a muleteer, to whom she is engaged, to take me down
from here to Cadiz. I bought her a present when we entered the town
and, the other day, told her I hoped to dance at her wedding before
long. However, that engagement will not come off. My dancing days
are over."

The surgeon felt his pulse.

"There is very little fever," he said. "So far you are going on
marvellously; but you must not be disappointed if you get a sharp
turn, presently. You can hardly expect to get through a wound like
this without having a touch, and perhaps a severe one, of fever."

"Is there any harm in my eating fruit?"

"I would not eat any, but you can drink some of the juice, mixed
with water. I hope we shall have everything comfortable by tonight;
of course, we are all in the rough, at present. Although many of
the doctors of the town have been helping us, I don't think there
is one medical officer in the army who has taken off his coat since
the wounded began to come in, yesterday morning."

That night Terence's wound became very painful. Inflammation,
accompanied of course with fever, set in and, for a fortnight, he
was very ill. At the end of that time matters began to mend, and
the wound soon assumed a healthy appearance. An operation had been
performed, and the projecting bone cut off.

There were dire sufferings in Salamanca. Six thousand wounded had
to be cared for, the French prisoners and their guards fed; and the
army had no organization to meet so great a strain. Numbers of
lives that might have been saved, by care and proper attention,
were lost; and the spirit of discontent and insubordination, which
had its origin in the excesses committed in the sack of the
fortresses, rapidly increased.

The news from the front, after a time, seemed more satisfactory.
Clausel had been hotly pursued. Had the king with his army joined
him, as he might have done, he would have been in a position to
again attack the enemy with greatly superior numbers; but Joseph
hesitated, and delayed until it was no longer possible. The British
army crossed the mountains, and the king was obliged to retire from
Madrid and evacuate the capital; which was entered by Wellington on
the 25th of August.

Early in September, the chief surgeon said to Terence:

"There is a convoy of sick going down, at the end of the week. I
think that it would be best for you to go with them. In the first
place, the air of this town is not favourable for recoveries. In
some of the hospitals a large number of men have been carried off
by the fever, which so often breaks out when the conditions are
bad. In the next place, I am privately informed, by the governor,
that he has received orders from the general to send all who are
capable of bearing the journey across the frontier, as soon as
possible. Another battle may be fought, at any moment. The
reinforcements that have come from England are nothing like
sufficient to replace the gaps in the army.

"The French generals are collecting their forces, and it is certain
that Wellington will not be able to withstand their combination
and, if he should be compelled to retreat, it is all important that
he should not be hampered by the necessity of carrying off huge
convoys of wounded. The difficulties of transport are already
enormous; and it is, therefore, for many reasons desirable that all
who are sufficiently convalescent to march, and all for whom
transport can be provided, should start without delay."

"I should be very glad, Doctor. I have not seemed to gain strength,
for the last week or ten days; but I believe that, if I were in the
open air, I should gain ground rapidly."

Nita had been allowed to come up several times to see Terence,
since his convalescence began; and the last time she had called had
told him that Garcia had returned, being altogether dissatisfied
with the feeble proceedings of the guerilla chief. She came up that
afternoon, soon after the doctor left, and he told her the news
that he had received. The next day she told Terence that Garcia had
arranged with her father for his waggon and two bullocks, and that
he himself would drive it to Lisbon, if necessary.

"They are fine bullocks, sir," she said, "and there is no fear of
their breaking down. Last night I was talking to one of your
sergeants, who comes to me every day for news of you. He says that
he and about forty of your men are going down with the convoy. All
are able to walk. It is so difficult to get carts that only
officers who cannot walk are to be taken, this time."

"It is very good of Garcia and your father, Nita, but I should
manage just as well as the others."

"That may be, senor, but it is better to have a friend with you who
knows the country. There may be difficulty in getting provisions,
and they say that there is a good deal of plundering along the
roads; for troops that have lately come up have behaved so badly
that the peasants declare they will have revenge, and treat them as
enemies if they have the opportunity. Altogether, it is as well to
have a friend with you."

Terence told the surgeon next morning what had been arranged, and
said:

"So we shall have room for one more, Doctor. Is Major Bull well
enough to go with me? He could travel in my waggon, which is sure
to be large enough for two to lie in, comfortably."

"Certainly he can. He is making a slow recovery, and I should be
glad to send him away, only I have no room for him. If he goes with
you, I can send another officer down, also, in the place you would
have had."

Accordingly, on the Saturday morning the convoy started. Bull and
Terence met for the first time, since the day of the battle; as the
former had been removed to another room, after the operation. He
was extremely weak, still, and had to be carried down and placed in
the waggon by the side of Terence. Garcia had been greatly affected
at the latter's appearance.

"I should scarce have known you again, senor."

"I am pulled down a bit, Garcia, but by the time we get to our
journey's end, you will see that I shall be a very different man.
How comfortable you have made the waggon!"

"I have done what I could, senor. At the bottom are six sacks of
corn, for it may be that forage will run short. Then I have filled
it with hay, and there are enough rugs to lie on, and to cover you
well over at night; and down among the sacks is a good-sized box
with some good wine, two hams of Nita's father's curing, and a
stock of sausages, and other things for the journey."

Nita came to say goodbye, and wept unrestrainedly at the parting.
She and Garcia had opened the little box, and found in it fifty
sovereigns; and had agreed to be married, as soon as Garcia
returned from his journey. As the train of thirty waggons--of which
ten contained provisions for use on the road--issued from the
gates, they were joined by the convalescents, four hundred in
number. All able to do so carried their arms, the muskets of the
remainder being placed on the provision waggons.

"Have you heard from the regiment, Bull?" Terence asked, after they
had talked over their time in hospital, and their comrades who had
fallen.

"No, sir. There is no one I should expect to write to me."

"I had a letter from Ryan, yesterday," Terence said. "He tells me
that they have had no fighting since we left. They form only one
battalion now, and he says the state of things in Madrid is
dreadful. The people are dying of hunger, and the British officers
have subscribed and started soup kitchens; and that he, with the
other Portuguese regiments, were to march the next day, with three
British divisions and the cavalry, to join General Clinton, who was
falling back before Clausel."

"'We all miss you horribly, Terence. Herrara does his best, but he
has not the influence over the men that you had. If we have to fall
back into Portugal again, which seems to me quite possible, for
little more than 20,000 men are fit to carry arms, I fancy that
there won't be a great many left round the colours by the spring.

"'Upon my word, I can hardly blame them, Terence. More than half of
those who originally joined have fallen and, no doubt, the poor
fellows think that they have done more than their share towards
defending their country.'"

By very short marches, the convoy made its way to the frontier. The
British convalescents remained at Guarda, the Portuguese marched
for Pinhel, and the carts with the wounded officers continued their
journey to Lisbon. The distance travelled had been over two hundred
and fifty miles and, including halts, they had taken five weeks to
perform it. Terence gained strength greatly during the journey, and
Bull had so far recovered that he was able to get out and walk,
sometimes, by the side of the waggon.

Garcia had been indefatigable in his efforts for their comfort.
Every day he formed an arbour over their waggon, with freshly-cut
boughs brought in by the soldiers of the regiment; and this kept
off the rays of the sun, and the flies. At the villages at which
they stopped, most of the wounded were accommodated in the houses;
but Terence and Bull preferred to sleep in the waggon, the hay
being always freshly shaken out for them, in the evening. The
supplies they carried were most useful in eking out the rations,
and Garcia proved himself an excellent cook. Altogether, the
journey had been a pleasant one.

On arriving at Lisbon, they were taken to the principal hospital.
Here the few who would be fit for service again were admitted,
while the rest were ordered to be taken down, at once, to a
hospital transport lying in the river. At the landing place they
said goodbye to Garcia, who refused firmly any remuneration for his
services, or for the hire of the waggon; and then Terence was
lifted into a boat and, with several other wounded, was taken on
board the transport.

The surgeon came at once to examine him.

"Do you wish to be taken below, colonel?" he asked Terence.

"Certainly not," Terence said. "I can sit up here, and can enjoy
myself as much as ever I could; and the air from the sea will do
more for me than any tonics you can give me, Doctor."

He was placed in a comfortable deck chair, and Bull had another
beside him. There were many officers already on board, and Terence
presently perceived, in one who was stumping about on a wooden leg,
a figure he recognized. He was passing on without recognition, when
Terence exclaimed:

"Why, O'Grady, is it yourself?"

"Terence O'Connor, by the powers!" O'Grady shouted. "Sure, I didn't
know you at first. It is meself, true enough, or what there is left
of me. It is glad I am to see you, though in a poor plight. The
news came to me that you had lost a leg. There was, at first, no
one in the hospital knew where you were, and I was not able to move
about, meself, to make inquiries; and when I found out, before I
came away, they said you were very bad, and that even if I could
get to you--which I could not, for I had not been fitted with a new
leg, then--I should not be able to see you.

"It is just like my luck. I was hit by one of the first shots
fired, and lost all the fun of the fight."

"Where were you hit, O'Grady?"

"Right in the shin. Faith, I went down so sudden that I thought I
had trod in a hole; and I was making a scramble to get up again,
when young Dawson said:

"'Lie still, O'Grady, they have shot the foot off ye.'

"And so they had, and divil a bit could I find where it had gone
to. As I was about the first man hit, they carried me off the field
at once, and put me in a waggon and, as soon as it was full, I was
taken down to Salamanca. I only stopped there three weeks, and I
have been here now more than two months, and my leg is all right
again. But I am a lop-sided creature, though it is lucky that it is
my left arm and leg that have gone. I was always a good hopper,
when I was a boy; so that, if this wooden thing breaks, I think I
should be able to get about pretty well."

"This is Major Bull, O'Grady. Don't you know him?"

"Faith, I did not know him; but now you tell me who it is, I
recognize him. How are you, major?"

"I am getting on, Captain O'Grady."

"Major," O'Grady corrected. "I got my step at Salamanca; both our
majors were killed. So I shall get a dacent pension: a major's
pension, and so much for a leg and arm. That is not so bad, you
know."

"Well, I have no reason to grumble," Bull said. "If I had been with
my old regiment and got this hurt, a shilling a day would have been
the outside. Now I shall get lieutenant's pension, and so much for
my arm and shoulder."

"I have no doubt you will get another step, Bull. After the way the
regiment suffered, and with poor Macwitty killed, and you and I
both badly wounded, they are sure to give you your step," and
indeed when, on their arrival, they saw the Gazette, they found
that both had been promoted.

"I suppose it is all for the best," O'Grady said. "At any rate, I
shall be able to drink dacent whisky for the rest of me life, and
not have to be fretting meself with Spanish spirit; though I don't
say there was no virtue in it, when you couldn't get anything
better."

Three days later, the vessel sailed for England. At Plymouth
Terence, O'Grady, and several other of the Irish officers left her;
Bull promising Terence that, when he was quite restored to health,
he would come and pay him a visit.

Terence and his companion sailed the next day for Dublin. O'Grady
had no relations whom he was particularly anxious to see and
therefore, at Terence's earnest invitation, he took a place with
him in a coach--to leave in three days, as both had to buy civilian
clothes, and to report themselves at headquarters.

"What are you going to do about a leg, Terence?"

"I can do nothing, at present. My stump is a great deal too tender,
still, for me to bear anything of that sort. But I will buy a pair
of crutches."

This was, indeed, the first thing done on landing, Terence finding
it inconvenient in the extreme to have to be carried whenever he
wanted to move, even a few yards. He had written home two or three
times from the hospital, telling them how he was getting on; for he
knew that when his name appeared among the list of dangerously
wounded, his father and cousin would be in a state of great anxiety
until they received news of him; and as soon as they had taken
their places in the coach he dropped them a line, saying when they
might expect him.

They had met with contrary winds on their voyage home, but the
three weeks at sea had done great things for Terence and, except
for the pinned-up trousers leg, he looked almost himself again.

"Be jabers, Terence," O'Grady said, as the coach drove into
Athlone, "one might think that it was only yesterday that we went
away. There are the old shops, and the same people standing at
their doors to see the coach come in; and I think I could swear
even to that cock, standing at the gate leading into the stables.
What games we had here. Who would have thought that, when we came
back, you would be my senior officer!"

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