The Adventures of Gerard

Chapter 4

How the Brigadier Saved the Army

--

I have told you, my friends, how we held the English shut up for

six months, from October, 1810, to March, 1811, within their

lines of Torres Vedras. It was during this time that I hunted

the fox in their company, and showed them that amidst all their

sportsmen there was not one who could outride a Hussar of

Conflans. When I galloped back into the French lines with the

blood of the creature still moist upon my blade the outposts who

had seen what I had done raised a frenzied cry in my honour,

whilst these English hunters still yelled behind me, so that I

had the applause of both armies. It made the tears rise to my

eyes to feel that I had won the admiration of so many brave men.

These English are generous foes. That very evening there came a

packet under a white flag addressed "To the Hussar officer who

cut down the fox." Within, I found the fox itself in two pieces,

as I had left it. There was a note also, short but hearty, as

the English fashion is, to say that as I had slaughtered the fox

it only remained for me to eat it. They could not know that it

was not our French custom to eat foxes, and it showed their

desire that he who had won the honours of the chase should also

partake of the game. It is not for a Frenchman to be outdone in

politeness, and so I returned it to these brave hunters, and

begged them to accept it as a side-dish for their next dejeuner

de la chasse.

It is thus that chivalrous opponents make war.

I had brought back with me from my ride a clear plan of the

English lines, and this I laid before Massena that very evening.

I had hoped that it would lead him to attack, but all the

marshals were at each other's throats, snapping and growling like

so many hungry hounds. Ney hated Massena, and Massena hated

Junot, and Soult hated them all. For this reason, nothing was

done. In the meantime food grew more and more scarce, and our

beautiful cavalry was ruined for want of fodder. With the end of

the winter we had swept the whole country bare, and nothing

remained for us to eat, although we sent our forage parties far

and wide. It was clear even to the bravest of us that the time

had come to retreat. I was myself forced to admit it.

But retreat was not so easy. Not only were the troops weak and

exhausted from want of supplies, but the enemy had been much

encouraged by our long inaction. Of Wellington we had no great

fear. We had found him to be brave and cautious, but with little

enterprise. Besides, in that barren country his pursuit could

not be rapid.

But on our flanks and in our rear there had gathered great

numbers of Portuguese militia, of armed peasants, and of

guerillas. These people had kept a safe distance all the winter,

but now that our horses were foundered they were as thick as

flies all round our outposts, and no man's life was worth a sou

when once he fell into their hands. I could name a dozen

officers of my own acquaintance who were cut off during that

time, and the luckiest was he who received a ball from behind a

rock through his head or his heart. There were some whose deaths

were so terrible that no report of them was ever allowed to reach

their relatives. So frequent were these tragedies, and so much

did they impress the imagination of the men, that it became very

difficult to induce them to leave the camp.

There was one especial scoundrel, a guerilla chief named Manuelo,

"The Smiler," whose exploits filled our men with horror. He was

a large, fat man of jovial aspect, and he lurked with a fierce

gang among the mountains which lay upon our left flank. A volume

might be written of this fellow's cruelties and brutalities, but

he was certainly a man of power, for he organised his brigands in

a manner which made it almost impossible for us to get through

his country. This he did by imposing a severe discipline upon

them and enforcing it by cruel penalties, a policy by which he

made them formidable, but which had some unexpected results, as I

will show you in my story. Had he not flogged his own

lieutenant--but you will hear of that when the time comes.

There were many difficulties in connection with a retreat, but it

was very evident that there was no other possible course, and so

Massena began to quickly pass his baggage and his sick from

Torres Novas, which was his headquarters, to Coimbra, the first

strong post on his line of communications. He could not do this

unperceived, however, and at once the guerillas came swarming

closer and closer upon our flanks. One of our divisions, that of

Clausel, with a brigade of Montbrun's cavalry, was far to the

south of the Tagus, and it became very necessary to let them know

that we were about to retreat, for Otherwise they would be left

unsupported in the very heart of the enemy's country. I remember

wondering how Massena would accomplish this, for simple couriers

could not get through, and small parties would be certainly

destroyed. In some way an order to fall back must be conveyed to

these men, or France would be the weaker by fourteen thousand

men. Little did I think that it was I, Colonel Gerard, who was

to have the honour of a deed which might have formed the crowning

glory of any other man's life, and which stands high among those

exploits which have made my own so famous.

At that time I was serving on Massena's staff, and he had two

other aides-de-camp, who were also very brave and intelligent

officers. The name of one was Cortex and of the other Duplessis.

They were senior to me in age, but junior in every other respect.

Cortex was a small, dark man, very quick and eager. He was a

fine soldier, but he was ruined by his conceit. To take him at

his own valuation, he was the first man in the army.

Duplessis was a Gascon, like myself, and he was a very fine

fellow, as all Gascon gentlemen are. We took it in turn, day

about, to do duty, and it was Cortex who was in attendance upon

the morning of which I speak. I saw him at breakfast, but

afterward neither he nor his horse was to be seen. All day

Massena was in his usual gloom, and he spent much of his time

staring with his telescope at the English lines and at the

shipping in the Tagus.

He said nothing of the mission upon which he had sent our

comrade, and it was not for us to ask him any questions.

That night, about twelve o'clock, I was standing outside the

Marshal's headquarters when he came out and stood motionless for

half an hour, his arms folded upon his breast, staring through

the darkness toward the east.

So rigid and intent was he that you might have believed the

muffled figure and the c****d hat to have been the statue of the

man. What he was looking for I could not imagine; but at last he

gave a bitter curse, and, turning on his heel, he went back into

the house, banging the door behind him.

Next day the second aide-de-camp, Duplessis, had an interview

with Massena in the morning, after which neither he nor his horse

was seen again. That night, as I sat in the ante-room, the

Marshal passed me, and I observed him through the window standing

and staring to the east exactly as he had done before. For fully

half an hour he remained there, a black shadow in the gloom.

Then he strode in, the door banged, and I heard his spurs and his

scabbard jingling and clanking through the passage. At the best

he was a savage old man, but when he was crossed I had almost as

soon face the Emperor himself. I heard him that night cursing

and stamping above my head, but he did not send for me, and I

knew him too well to go unsought.

Next morning it was my turn, for I was the only aide- de-camp

left. I was his favourite aide-de-camp. His heart went out

always to a smart soldier. I declare that I think there were

tears in his black eyes when he sent for me that morning.

"Gerard," said he. "Come here!"

With a friendly gesture he took me by the sleeve and he led me to

the open window which faced the east. Beneath us was the

infantry camp, and beyond that the lines of the cavalry with the

long rows of picketed horses.

We could see the French outposts, and then a stretch of open

country, intersected by vineyards. A range of hills lay beyond,

with one well-marked peak towering above them. Round the base of

these hills was a broad belt of forest. A single road ran white

and clear, dipping and rising until it passed through a gap in

the hills.

"This," said Massena, pointing to the mountain, "is the Sierra de

Merodal. Do you perceive anything upon the top?"

I answered that I did not.

"Now?" he asked, and he handed me his field-glass.

With its aid I perceived a small mound or cairn upon the crest.

"What you see," said the Marshal, "is a pile of logs which was

placed there as a beacon. We laid it when the country was in our

hands, and now, although we no longer hold it, the beacon remains

undisturbed. Gerard, that beacon must be lit to-night. France

needs it, the Emperor needs it, the army needs it. Two of your

comrades have gone to light it, but neither has made his way to

the summit. To-day it is your turn, and I pray that you may have

better luck."

It is not for a soldier to ask the reason for his orders, and so

I was about to hurry from the room, but the Marshal laid his hand

upon my shoulder and held me.

"You shall know all, and so learn how high is the cause for which

you risk your life," said he. "Fifty miles to the south of us,

on the other side of the Tagus, is the army of General Clausel.

His camp is situated near a peak named the Sierra d'Ossa. On the

summit of this peak is a beacon, and by this beacon he has a

picket. It is agreed between us that when at midnight he shall

see our signal-fire he shall light his own as an answer, and

shall then at once fall back upon the main army. If he does not

start at once I must go without him. For two days I have

endeavoured to send him his message. It must reach him to-day,

or his army will be left behind and destroyed."

Ah, my friends, how my heart swelled when I heard how high was

the task which Fortune had assigned to me!

If my life were spared, here was one more splendid new leaf for

my laurel crown. If, on the other hand, I died, then it would be

a death worthy of such a career. I said nothing, but I cannot

doubt that all the noble thoughts that were in me shone in my

face, for Massena took my hand and wrung it.

"There is the hill and there the beacon," said he.

"There is only this guerilla and his men between you and it. I

cannot detach a large party for the enterprise and a small one

would be seen and destroyed. Therefore to you alone I commit it.

Carry it out in your own way, but at twelve o'clock this night

let me see the fire upon the hill."

"If it is not there," said I, "then I pray you, Marshal Massena,

to see that my effects are sold and the money sent to my mother."

So I raised my hand to my busby and turned upon my heel, my heart

glowing at the thought of the great exploit which lay before me.

I sat in my own chamber for some little time considering how I

had best take the matter in hand. The fact that neither Cortex

nor Duplessis, who were very zealous and active officers, had

succeeded in reaching the summit of the Sierra de Merodal, showed

that the country was very closely watched by the guerillas. I

reckoned out the distance upon a map. There were ten miles of

open country to be crossed before reaching the hills. Then came

a belt of forest on the lower slopes of the mountain, which may

have been three or four miles wide. And then there was the

actual peak itself, of no very great height, but without any

cover to conceal me. Those were the three stages of my journey.

It seemed to me that once I had reached the shelter of the wood

all would be easy, for I could lie concealed within its shadows

and climb upward under the cover of night.

From eight till twelve would give me four hours of darkness in

which to make the ascent. It was only the first stage, then,

which I had seriously to consider.

Over that flat country there lay the inviting white road, and I

remembered that my comrades had both taken their horses. That

was clearly their ruin, for nothing could be easier than for the

brigands to keep watch upon the road, and to lay an ambush for

all who passed along it. It would not be difficult for me to

ride across country, and I was well horsed at that time, for I

had not only Violette and Rataplan, who were two of the finest

mounts in the army, but I had the splendid black English hunter

which I had taken from Sir Cotton. However, after much thought,

I determined to go upon foot, since I should then be in a better

state to take advantage of any chance which might offer. As to

my dress, I covered my Hussar uniform with a long cloak, and I

put a grey forage cap upon my head. You may ask me why I did not

dress as a peasant, but I answer that a man of honour has no

desire to die the death of a spy. It is one thing to be

murdered, and it is another to be justly executed by the laws of

war. I would not run the risk of such an end.

In the late afternoon I stole out of the camp and passed through

the line of our pickets. Beneath my cloak I had a field-glass

and a pocket pistol, as well as my sword. In my pocket were

tinder, flint, and steel.

For two or three miles I kept under cover of the vineyards, and

made such good progress that my heart was high within me, and I

thought to myself that it only needed a man of some brains to

take the matter in hand to bring it easily to success. Of

course, Cortex and Duplessis galloping down the high-road would

be easily seen, but the intelligent Gerard lurking among the

vines was quite another person. I dare say I had got as far as

five miles before I met any check. At that point there is a

small wine-house, round which I perceived some carts and a number

of people, the first that I had seen. Now that I was well

outside the lines I knew that every person was my enemy, so I

crouched lower while I stole along to a point from which I could

get a better view of what was going on. I then perceived that

these people were peasants, who were loading two waggons with

empty wine- casks. I failed to see how they could either help or

hinder me, so I continued upon my way.

But soon I understood that my task was not so simple as had

appeared. As the ground rose the vineyards ceased, and I came

upon a stretch of open country studded with low hills. Crouching

in a ditch I examined them with a glass, and I very soon

perceived that there was a watcher upon every one of them, and

that these people had a line of pickets and outposts thrown

forward exactly like our own. I had heard of the discipline

which was practised by this scoundrel whom they called "The

Smiler," and this, no doubt, was an example of it.

Between the hills there was a cordon of sentries, and though I

worked some distance round to the flank I still found myself

faced by the enemy. It was a puzzle what to do.

There was so little cover that a rat could hardly cross without

being seen. Of course, it would be easy enough to slip through

at night, as I had done with the English at Torres Vedras, but I

was still far from the mountain and I could not in that case

reach it in time to light the midnight beacon. I lay in my ditch

and I made a thousand plans, each more dangerous than the last.

And then suddenly I had that flash of light which comes to the

brave man who refuses to despair.

You remember I have mentioned that two waggons were loading up

with empty casks at the inn. The heads of the oxen were turned

to the east, and it was evident that those waggons were going in

the direction which I desired. Could I only conceal myself upon

one of them, what better and easier way could I find of passing

through the lines of the guerillas? So simple and so good was

the plan that I could not restrain a cry of delight as it crossed

my mind, and I hurried away instantly in the direction of the

inn. There, from behind some bushes, I had a good look at what

was going on upon the road.

There were three peasants with red montero caps loading the

barrels, and they had completed one waggon and the lower tier of

the other. A number of empty barrels still lay outside the

wine-house waiting to be put on.

Fortune was my friend--I have always said that she is a woman and

cannot resist a dashing young Hussar. As I watched, the three

fellows went into the inn, for the day was hot and they were

thirsty after their labour. Quick as a flash I darted out from

my hiding-place, climbed on to the waggon, and crept into one of

the empty casks.

It had a bottom but no top, and it lay upon its side with the

open end inward. There I crouched like a dog in its kennel, my

knees drawn up to my chin, for the barrels were not very large

and I am a well-grown man. As I lay there, out came the three

peasants again, and presently I heard a crash upon the top of me

which told that I had another barrel above me. They piled them

upon the cart until I could not imagine how I was ever to get out

again. However, it is time to think of crossing the Vistula when

you are over the Rhine, and I had no doubt that if chance and my

own wits had carried me so far they would carry me farther.

Soon, when the waggon was full, they set forth upon their way,

and I within my barrel chuckled at every step, for it was

carrying me whither I wished to go. We travelled slowly, and the

peasants walked beside the waggons.

This I knew, because I heard their voices close to me. They

seemed to me to be very merry fellows, for they laughed heartily

as they went. What the joke was I could not understand. Though

I speak their language fairly well I could not hear anything

comic in the scraps of their conversation which met my ear.

I reckoned that at the rate of walking of a team of oxen we

covered about two miles an hour. Therefore, when I was sure that

two and a half hours had passed-- such hours, my friends,

cramped, suffocated, and nearly poisoned with the fumes of the

lees--when they had passed, I was sure that the dangerous open

country was behind us, and that we were upon the edge of the

forest and the mountain. So now I had to turn my mind upon how I

was to get out of my barrel. I had thought of several ways, and

was balancing one against the other when the question was decided

for me in a very simple but unexpected manner.

The waggon stopped suddenly with a jerk, and I heard a number of

gruff voices in excited talk. "Where, where?" cried one. "On

our cart," said another. "Who is he?" said a third. "A French

officer; I saw his cap and his boots." They all roared with

laughter. "I was looking out of the window of the posada and I

saw him spring into the cask like a toreador with a Seville bull

at his heels." "Which cask, then?" "It was this one," said the

fellow, and sure enough his fist struck the wood beside my head.

What a situation, my friends, for a man of my standing!

I blush now, after forty years, when I think of it.

To be trussed like a fowl and to listen helplessly to the rude

laughter of these boors--to know, too, that my mission had come

to an ignominious and even ridiculous end --I would have blessed

the man who would have sent a bullet through the cask and freed

me from my misery.

I heard the crashing of the barrels as they hurled them off the

waggon, and then a couple of bearded faces and the muzzles of two

guns looked in at me. They seized me by the sleeves of my coat,

and they dragged me out into the daylight. A strange figure I

must have looked as I stood blinking and gaping in the blinding

sunlight.

My body was bent like a cripple's, for I could not straighten my

stiff joints, and half my coat was as red as an English soldier's

from the lees in which I had lain.

They laughed and laughed, these dogs, and as I tried to express

by my bearing and gestures the contempt in which I held them

their laughter grew all the louder. But even in these hard

circumstances I bore myself like the man I am, and as I cast my

eye slowly round I did not find that any of the laughers were

very ready to face it.

That one glance round was enough to tell me exactly how I was

situated. I had been betrayed by these peasants into the hands

of an outpost of guerillas. There were eight of them,

savage-looking, hairy creatures, with cotton handkerchiefs under

their sombreros, and many- buttoned jackets with coloured sashes

round the waist.

Each had a gun and one or two pistols stuck in his girdle.

The leader, a great, bearded ruffian, held his gun against my ear

while the others searched my pockets, taking from me my overcoat,

my pistol, my glass, my sword, and, worst of all, my flint and

steel and tinder. Come what might, I was ruined, for I had no

longer the means of lighting the beacon even if I should reach

it.

Eight of them, my friends, with three peasants, and I unarmed!

Was Etienne Gerard in despair? Did he lose his wits? Ah, you

know me too well; but they did not know me yet, these dogs of

brigands. Never have I made so supreme and astounding an effort

as at this very instant when all seemed lost. Yet you might

guess many times before you would hit upon the device by which I

escaped them. Listen and I will tell you.

They had dragged me from the waggon when they searched me, and I

stood, still twisted and warped, in the midst of them. But the

stiffness was wearing off, and already my mind was very actively

looking out for some method of breaking away. It was a narrow

pass in which the brigands had their outpost. It was bounded on

the one hand by a steep mountain side. On the other the ground

fell away in a very long slope, which ended in a bushy valley

many hundreds of feet below. These fellows, you understand, were

hardy mountaineers, who could travel either up hill or down very

much quicker than I. They wore abarcas, or shoes of skin, tied

on like sandals, which gave them a foothold everywhere. A less

resolute man would have despaired. But in an instant I saw and

used the strange chance which Fortune had placed in my way. On

the very edge of the slope was one of the wine-barrels. I moved

slowly toward it, and then with a tiger spring I dived into it

feet foremost, and with a roll of my body I tipped it over the

side of the hill.

Shall I ever forget that dreadful journey--how I bounded and

crashed and whizzed down that terrible slope? I had dug in my

knees and elbows, bunching my body into a compact bundle so as to

steady it; but my head projected from the end, and it was a

marvel that I did not dash out my brains. There were long,

smooth slopes, and then came steeper scarps where the barrel

ceased to roll, and sprang into the air like a goat, coming down

with a rattle and crash which jarred every bone in my body. How

the wind whistled in my ears, and my head turned and turned until

I was sick and giddy and nearly senseless! Then, with a swish

and a great rasping and crackling of branches, I reached the

bushes which I had seen so far below me. Through them I broke my

way, down a slope beyond, and deep into another patch of

underwood, where, striking a sapling, my barrel flew to pieces.

From amid a heap of staves and hoops I crawled out, my body

aching in every inch of it, but my heart singing loudly with joy

and my spirit high within me, for I knew how great was the feat

which I had accomplished, and I already seemed to see the beacon

blazing on the hill.

A horrible nausea had seized me from the tossing which I had

undergone, and I felt as I did upon the ocean when first I

experienced those movements of which the English have taken so

perfidious an advantage. I had to sit for a few moments with my

head upon my hands beside the ruins of my barrel. But there was

no time for rest.

Already I heard shouts above me which told that my pursuers were

descending the hill. I dashed into the thickest part of the

underwood, and I ran and ran until I was utterly exhausted. Then

I lay panting and listened with all my ears, but no sound came to

them. I had shaken off my enemies.

When I had recovered my breath I travelled swiftly on, and waded

knee-deep through several brooks, for it came into my head that

they might follow me with dogs.

On gaining a clear place and looking round me, I found to my

delight that in spite of my adventures I had not been much out of

my way. Above me towered the peak of Merodal, with its bare and

bold summit shooting out of the groves of dwarf oaks which

shrouded its flanks.

These groves were the continuation of the cover under which I

found myself, and it seemed to me that I had nothing to fear now

until I reached the other side of the forest. At the same time I

knew that every man's hand was against me, that I was unarmed,

and that there were many people about me. I saw no one, but

several times I heard shrill whistles, and once the sound of a

gun in the distance.

It was hard work pushing one's way through the bushes, and so I

was glad when I came to the larger trees and found a path which

led between them. Of course, I was too wise to walk upon it, but

I kept near it and followed its course. I had gone some

distance, and had, as I imagined, nearly reached the limit of the

wood, when a strange, moaning sound fell upon my ears. At first

I thought it was the cry of some animal, but then there came

words, of which I only caught the French exclamation, "Mon Dieu!"

With great caution I advanced in the direction from which the

sound proceeded, and this is what I saw.

On a couch of dried leaves there was stretched a man dressed in

the same grey uniform which I wore myself.

He was evidently horribly wounded, for he held a cloth to his

breast which was crimson with his blood. A pool had formed all

round his couch, and he lay in a haze of flies, whose buzzing and

droning would certainly have called my attention if his groans

had not come to my ear.

I lay for a moment, fearing some trap, and then, my pity and

loyalty rising above all other feelings, I ran forward and knelt

by his side. He turned a haggard face upon me, and it was

Duplessis, the man who had gone before me. It needed but one

glance at his sunken cheeks and glazing eyes to tell me that he

was dying.

"Gerard!" said he; "Gerard!"

I could but look my sympathy, but he, though the life was ebbing

swiftly out of him, still kept his duty before him, like the

gallant gentleman he was.

"The beacon, Gerard! You will light it?"

"Have you flint and steel?"

"It is here!"

"Then I will light it to-night."

"I die happy to hear you say so. They shot me, Gerard.

But you will tell the Marshal that I did my best."

"And Cortex?"

"He was less fortunate. He fell into their hands and died

horribly. If you see that you cannot get away, Gerard, put a

bullet into your own heart. Don't die as Cortex did."

I could see that his breath was failing, and I bent low to catch

his words.

"Can you tell me anything which can help me in my task?" I asked.

"Yes, yes; de Pombal. He will help you. Trust de Pombal." With

the words his head fell back and he was dead.

"Trust de Pombal. It is good advice." To my amazement a man was

standing at the very side of me.

So absorbed had I been in my comrade's words and intent on his

advice that he had crept up without my observing him. Now I

sprang to my feet and faced him. He was a tall, dark fellow,

black-haired, black-eyed, black-bearded, with a long, sad face.

In his hand he had a wine-bottle and over his shoulder was slung

one of the trabucos or blunderbusses which these fellows bear.

He made no effort to unsling it, and I understood that this was

the man to whom my dead friend had commended me.

"Alas, he is gone!" said he, bending over Duplessis.

"He fled into the wood after he was shot, but I was fortunate

enough to find where he had fallen and to make his last hours

more easy. This couch was my making, and I had brought this wine

to slake his thirst."

"Sir," said I, "in the name of France I thank you. I am but a

colonel of light cavalry, but I am Etienne Gerard, and the name

stands for something in the French army. May I ask----"

"Yes, sir, I am Aloysius de Pombal, younger brother of the famous

nobleman of that name. At present I am the first lieutenant in

the band of the guerilla chief who is usually known as Manuelo,

'The Smiler.' "

My word, I clapped my hand to the place where my pistol should

have been, but the man only smiled at the gesture.

"I am his first lieutenant, but I am also his deadly enemy," said

he. He slipped off his jacket and pulled up his shirt as he

spoke. "Look at this!" he cried, and he turned upon me a back

which was all scored and lacerated with red and purple weals.

"This is what 'The Smiler' has done to me, a man with the noblest

blood of Portugal in my veins. What I will do to 'The Smiler'

you have still to see."

There was such fury in his eyes and in the grin of his white

teeth that I could no longer doubt his truth, with that clotted

and oozing back to corroborate his words.

"I have ten men sworn to stand by me," said he. "In a few days I

hope to join your army, when I have done my work here. In the

meanwhile--" A strange change came over his face, and he

suddenly slung his musket to the front: "Hold up your hands, you

French hound!" he yelled. "Up with them, or I blow your head

of!"

You start, my friends! You stare! Think, then, how I stared and

started at this sudden ending of our talk.

There was the black muzzle and there the dark, angry eyes behind

it. What could I do? I was helpless. I raised my hands in the

air. At the same moment voices sounded from all parts of the

wood, there were crying and calling and rushing of many feet. A

swarm of dreadful figures broke through the green bushes, a dozen

hands seized me, and I, poor, luckless, frenzied I, was a

prisoner once more. Thank God, there was no pistol which I could

have plucked from my belt and snapped at my own head. Had I been

armed at that moment I should not be sitting here in this cafe

and telling you these old-world tales.

With grimy, hairy hands clutching me on every side I was led

along the pathway through the wood, the villain de Pombal giving

directions to my Captors. Four of the brigands carried up the

dead body of Duplessis.

The shadows of evening were already falling when we cleared the

forest and came out upon the mountain-side.

Up this I was driven until we reached the headquarters of the

guerillas, which lay in a cleft close to the summit of the

mountain. There was the beacon which had cost me so much, a

square stack of wood, immediately above our heads. Below were

two or three huts which had belonged, no doubt, to goatherds, and

which were now used to shelter these rascals. Into one of these

I was cast, bound and helpless, and the dead body of my poor

comrade was laid beside me.

I was lying there with the one thought still consuming me, how to

wait a few hours and to get at that pile of fagots above my head,

when the door of my prison opened and a man entered. Had my

hands been free I should have flown at his throat, for it was

none other than de Pombal. A couple of brigands were at his

heels, but he ordered them back and closed the door behind him.

"You villain!" said I.

"Hush!" he cried. "Speak low, for I do not know who may be

listening, and my life is at stake. I have some words to say to

you, Colonel Gerard; I wish well to you, as I did to your dead

companion. As I spoke to you beside his body I saw that we were

surrounded, and that your capture was unavoidable. I should have

shared your fate had I hesitated. I instantly captured you

myself, so as to preserve the confidence of the band.

Your own sense will tell you that there was nothing else for me

to do. I do not know now whether I can save you, but at least I

will try."

This was a new light upon the situation. I told him that I could

not tell how far he spoke the truth, but that I would judge him

by his actions.

"I ask nothing better," said he. "A word of advice to you! The

chief will see you now. Speak him fair, or he will have you sawn

between two planks. Contradict nothing he says. Give him such

information as he wants. It is your only chance. If you can

gain time something may come in our favour. Now, I have no more

time. Come at once, or suspicion may be awakened."

He helped me to rise, and then, opening the door, he dragged me

out very roughly, and with the aid of the fellows outside he

brutally pushed and thrust me to the place where the guerilla

chief was seated, with his rude followers gathered round him.

A remarkable man was Manuelo, "The Smiler." He was fat and

florid and comfortable, with a big, clean- shaven face and a bald

head, the very model of a kindly father of a family. As I looked

at his honest smile I could scarcely believe that this was,

indeed, the infamous ruffian whose name was a horror through the

English Army as well as our own. It is well known that Trent,

who was a British officer, afterward had the fellow hanged for

his brutalities. He sat upon a boulder and he beamed upon me

like one who meets an old acquaintance.

I observed, however, that one of his men leaned upon a long saw,

and the sight was enough to cure me of all delusions.

"Good evening, Colonel Gerard," said he. "We have been highly

honoured by General Massena's staff: Major Cortex one day,

Colonel Duplessis the next, and now Colonel Gerard. Possibly the

Marshal himself may be induced to honour us with a visit. You

have seen Duplessis, I understand. Cortex you will find nailed

to a tree down yonder. It only remains to be decided how we can

best dispose of yourself."

It was not a cheering speech; but all the time his fat face was

wreathed in smiles, and he lisped out his words in the most

mincing and amiable fashion. Now, however, he suddenly leaned

forward, and I read a very real intensity in his eyes.

"Colonel Gerard," said he, "I cannot promise you your life, for

it is not our custom, but I can give you an easy death or I can

give you a terrible one. Which shall it be?"

"What do you wish me to do in exchange?"

"If you would die easy I ask you to give me truthful answers to

the questions which I ask."

A sudden thought flashed through my mind.

"You wish to kill me," said I; "it cannot matter to you how I

die. If I answer your questions, will you let me choose the

manner of my own death?"

"Yes, I will," said he, "so long as it is before midnight

to-night."

"Swear it!" I cried.

"The word of a Portuguese gentleman is sufficient," said he.

"Not a word will I say until you have sworn it."

He flushed with anger and his eyes swept round toward the saw.

But he understood from my tone that I meant what I said, and that

I was not a man to be bullied into submission. He pulled a cross

from under his zammara or jacket of black sheepskin.

"I swear it," said he.

Oh, my joy as I heard the words! What an end-- what an end for

the first swordsman of France! I could have laughed with delight

at the thought.

"Now, your questions!" said I.

"You swear in turn to answer them truly?"

"I do, upon the honour of a gentleman and a soldier."

It was, as you perceive, a terrible thing that I promised, but

what was it compared to what I might gain by compliance?

"This is a very fair and a very interesting bargain," said he,

taking a note-book from his pocket.

"Would you kindly turn your gaze toward the French camp?"

Following the direction of his gesture, I turned and looked down

upon the camp in the plain beneath us. In spite of the fifteen

miles, one could in that clear atmosphere see every detail with

the utmost distinctness.

There were the long squares of our tents and our huts, with the

cavalry lines and the dark patches which marked the ten batteries

of artillery. How sad to think of my magnificent regiment

waiting down yonder, and to know that they would never see their

colonel again! With one squadron of them I could have swept all

these cut-throats of the face of the earth. My eager eyes filled

with tears as I looked at the corner of the camp where I knew

that there were eight hundred men, any one of whom would have

died for his colonel. But my sadness vanished when I saw beyond

the tents the plumes of smoke which marked the headquarters at

Torres Novas. There was Massena, and, please God, at the cost of

my life his mission would that night be done. A spasm of pride

and exultation filled my breast. I should have liked to have had

a voice of thunder that I might call to them, "Behold it is I,

Etienne Gerard, who will die in order to save the army of

Clausel!" It was, indeed, sad to think that so noble a deed

should be done, and that no one should be there to tell the tale.

"Now," said the brigand chief, "you see the camp and you see also

the road which leads to Coimbra. It is crowded with your

fourgons and your ambulances. Does this mean that Massena is

about to retreat?"

One could see the dark moving lines of waggons with an occasional

flash of steel from the escort. There could, apart from my

promise, be no indiscretion in admitting that which was already

obvious.

"He will retreat," said I.

"By Coimbra?"

"I believe so."

"But the army of Clausel?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Every path to the south is blocked. No message can reach them.

If Massena falls back the army of Clausel is doomed."

"It must take its chance," said I.

"How many men has he?"

"I should say about fourteen thousand."

"How much cavalry?"

"One brigade of Montbrun's Division."

"What regiments?"

"The 4th Chasseurs, the 9th Hussars, and a regiment of

Cuirassiers."

"Quite right," said he, looking at his note-book. "I can tell

you speak the truth, and Heaven help you if you don't." Then,

division by division, he went over the whole army, asking the

composition of each brigade.

Need I tell you that I would have had my tongue torn out before I

would have told him such things had I not a greater end in view?

I would let him know all if I could but save the army of Clausel.

At last he closed his note-book and replaced it in his pocket.

"I am obliged to you for this information, which shall reach Lord

Wellington to-morrow," said he.

"You have done your share of the bargain; it is for me now to

perform mine. How would you wish to die? As a soldier you

would, no doubt, prefer to be shot, but some think that a jump

over the Merodal precipice is really an easier death. A good few

have taken it, but we were, unfortunately, never able to get an

opinion from them afterward. There is the saw, too, which does

not appear to be popular. We could hang you, no doubt, but it

would involve the inconvenience of going down to the wood.

However, a promise is a promise, and you seem to be an excellent

fellow, so we will spare no pains to meet your wishes."

"You said," I answered, "that I must die before midnight.

I will choose, therefore, just one minute before that hour."

"Very good," said he. "Such clinging to life is rather childish,

but your wishes shall be met."

"As to the method," I added, "I love a death which all the world

can see. Put me on yonder pile of fagots and burn me alive, as

saints and martyrs have been burned before me. That is no common

end, but one which an Emperor might envy."

The idea seemed to amuse him very much. "Why not?" said he. "If

Massena has sent you to spy upon us, he may guess what the fire

upon the mountain means."

"Exactly," said I. "You have hit upon my very reason. He will

guess, and all will know, that I have died a soldier's death."

"I see no objection whatever," said the brigand, with his

abominable smile. "I will send some goat's flesh and wine into

your hut. The sun is sinking and it is nearly eight o'clock. In

four hours be ready for your end."

It was a beautiful world to be leaving. I looked at the golden

haze below, where the last rays of the sinking sun shone upon the

blue waters of the winding Tagus and gleamed upon the white sails

of the English transports.

Very beautiful it was, and very sad to leave; but there are

things more beautiful than that. The death that is died for the

sake of others, honour, and duty, and loyalty, and love--these

are the beauties far brighter than any which the eye can see. My

breast was filled with admiration for my own most noble conduct,

and with wonder whether any soul would ever come to know how I

had placed myself in the heart of the beacon which saved the army

of Clausel. I hoped so and I prayed so, for what a consolation

it would be to my mother, what an example to the army, what a

pride to my Hussars! When de Pombal came at last into my hut

with the food and the wine, the first request I made him was that

he would write an account of my death and send it to the French

camp.

He answered not a word, but I ate my supper with a better

appetite from the thought that my glorious fate would not be

altogether unknown.

I had been there about two hours when the door opened again, and

the chief stood looking in. I was in darkness, but a brigand

with a torch stood beside him, and I saw his eyes and his teeth

gleaming as he peered at me.

"Ready?" he asked.

"It is not yet time."

"You stand out for the last minute?"

"A promise is a promise."

"Very good. Be it so. We have a little justice to do among

ourselves, for one of my fellows has been misbehaving.

We have a strict rule of our own which is no respecter of

persons, as de Pombal here could tell you.

Do you truss him and lay him on the faggots, de Pombal, and I

will return to see him die."

De Pombal and the man with the torch entered, while I heard the

steps of the chief passing away. De Pombal closed the door.

"Colonel Gerard," said he, "you must trust this man, for he is

one of my party. It is neck or nothing. We may save you yet.

But I take a great risk, and I want a definite promise. If we

save you, will you guarantee that we have a friendly reception in

the French camp and that all the past will be forgotten?"

"I do guarantee it."

"And I trust your honour. Now, quick, quick, there is not an

instant to lose! If this monster returns we shall die horribly,

all three."

I stared in amazement at what he did. Catching up a long rope he

wound it round the body of my dead comrade, and he tied a cloth

round his mouth so as to almost cover his face.

"Do you lie there!" he cried, and he laid me in the place of the

dead body. "I have four of my men waiting, and they will place

this upon the beacon." He opened the door and gave an order.

Several of the brigands entered and bore out Duplessis. For

myself I remained upon the floor, with my mind in a turmoil of

hope and wonder.

Five minutes later de Pombal and his men were back.

"You are laid upon the beacon," said he; "I defy anyone in the

world to say it is not you, and you are so gagged and bound that

no one can expect you to speak or move. Now, it only remains to

carry forth the body of Duplessis and to toss it over the Merodal

precipice."

Two of them seized me by the head and two by the heels, and

carried me, stiff and inert, from the hut. As I came into the

open air I could have cried out in my amazement. The moon had

risen above the beacon, and there, clear outlined against its

silver light, was the figure of the man stretched upon the top.

The brigands were either in their camp or standing round the

beacon, for none of them stopped or questioned our little party.

De Pombal led them in the direction of the precipice. At the

brow we were out of sight, and there I was allowed to use my feet

once more. De Pombal pointed to a narrow, winding track.

"This is the way down," said he, and then, suddenly,

"Dios mio, what is that?"

A terrible cry had risen out of the woods beneath us.

I saw that de Pombal was shivering like a frightened horse.

"It is that devil," he whispered. "He is treating another as he

treated me. But on, on, for Heaven help us if he lays his hands

upon us."

One by one we crawled down the narrow goat track.

At the bottom of the cliff we were back in the woods once more.

Suddenly a yellow glare shone above us, and the black shadows of

the tree-trunks started out in front.

They had fired the beacon behind us. Even from where we stood we

could see that impassive body amid the flames, and the black

figures of the guerillas as they danced, howling like cannibals,

round the pile. Ha! how I shook my fist at them, the dogs, and

how I vowed that one day my Hussars and I would make the

reckoning level!

De Pombal knew how the outposts were placed and all the paths

which led through the forest. But to avoid these villains we had

to plunge among the hills and walk for many a weary mile. And

yet how gladly would I have walked those extra leagues if only

for one sight which they brought to my eyes! It may have been

two o'clock in the morning when we halted upon the bare shoulder

of a hill over which our path curled. Looking back we saw the

red glow of the embers of the beacon as if volcanic fires were

bursting from the tall peak of Merodal. And then, as I gazed, I

saw something else-- something which caused me to shriek with joy

and to fall upon the ground, rolling in my delight. For, far

away upon the southern horizon, there winked and twinkled one

great yellow light, throbbing and flaming, the light of no house,

the light of no star, but the answering beacon of Mount d'Ossa,

which told that the army of Clausel knew what Etienne Gerard had

been sent to tell them.