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Romance Of Modern Sieges; Describing The Personal Adventures, Resource And Daring of Besiegers and Besieged In All Parts Of The World

<h2>CHAPTER VI A PRISONER IN ST. SEBASTIAN (1813)</h2> The coup de grâce—The hospital—A cruel order—An attempt at escape—Removed to the castle—The English at the breach—Many are wounded—French ladies sleep in the open—A vertical fire—English gunners shoot too well—A good sabre lightly won. Colonel Harvey Jones, R.E., has left us an interesting account of the siege of St. Sebastian by the British forces. The town, situated close to the French frontier, just south of the Pyrenees and by the sea, contains 10,000 inhabitants, and is built on a low peninsula running north and south. The defences of the western side are washed by the sea, those on the eastern side by the river Urumea, which at high-water covers 4 feet of the masonry of the scarp. The first assault in July failed. Colonel Jones was wounded and taken prisoner. His diary begins: “After witnessing the unsuccessful attempts of Lieutenant Campbell, 9th Regiment, and his gallant little band to force their way on to the ramparts, and their retreat from the breach, my attention was soon aroused by a cry from the soldier who was lying disabled next to me: “‘Oh, they are murdering us all!’ “Looking up, I perceived a number of French Grenadiers, under a heavy fire of grape, sword in hand, stepping over the dead and stabbing the wounded. My companion[Pg 77] was treated in the same manner. The sword, plucked from his body and reeking with his blood, was raised to give me the coup de grâce, when, fortunately, the uplifted arm was arrested by a smart little man—a sergeant—who cried out: “‘Oh, mon Colonel, êtes-vous blessé?’ and he ordered some men to remove me.” They raised the Colonel in their arms and carried him up the breach on to the ramparts. Here they were stopped by a Captain of the Grenadiers, who asked some questions, then kissed him, and desired the party to proceed to the hospital. They met the Governor and his staff on the way, who asked if the Colonel was badly wounded, and directed that proper care should be taken of him. After descending from the rampart into the town, as they were going along the street leading to the hospital, they were accosted by an officer who had evidently taken his “drop.” He demanded the Englishman’s sword, which was still hanging by his side. The reply came: “You have the power to take it, but certainly have no right to do so, as I have not been made a prisoner by you.” This seemed to enrage him, and with great violence of manner and gesture he unbuckled the belt and carried away the sword. Upon reaching the hospital, the Surgeon-Major was very kind in his manner. After he had enlarged the wounds, according to the French system, and then dressed them, the Colonel was carried across the street and put into a bed in one of the wards of the great hospital, which a soldier was ordered to vacate for his use. This man returned later in the day for his pipe and tobacco, which he had left under the pillow. In the course of the morning they were visited by the[Pg 78] Governor, who made inquiries as to their wounds, and whether they had been plundered of anything; for a great number of English soldiers had been taken, and were lodged in the town prison. The only persons permitted to visit them were some staff-officers, a few Spanish ladies, and a Spanish barber. From the former the Colonel was made acquainted with all that passed in the British lines—at least, as far as the French could conjecture. Although boats arrived nightly from Bayonne, the other side of the frontier, bringing shells, medicine, charpie, or lint, engineers, etc., the garrison remained in great ignorance of the movements of the two armies. Soult kept sending word that he would soon come and raise the siege; thus, by promises of immediate relief, he kept up the spirits of the garrison. He also rewarded the gallantry of particular defenders during the assault and in the sorties by promotion, or by sending them the decoration of the Legion of Honour. In the French Army there seemed to have been a system of reward for good and gallant conduct by promotion into the Grenadiers or Voltigeurs, which had an excellent effect. A French soldier was extremely proud of his green, yellow, or red epaulettes. They were badges of distinguished conduct and only those who had shown great gallantry in action were admitted into their ranks. What with the success attendant upon the sorties and the numerous decorations which had been distributed among the officers and privates, such a spirit of daring had been created that the idea of a surrender was scouted by all. After the stones had been extracted which had been blown into his leg and thighs by the bursting of shells and grenades, the Colonel was enabled to move about and get into the gallery running round the courtyard of the hospital, and into which all the doors and windows[Pg 79] of the rooms respectively opened. It was the only place where they were allowed to breathe the fresh air. One day, whilst sitting in the gallery, he observed a table placed in the balcony below him, on the other side of the courtyard. Soon he saw an unfortunate French gunner laid upon the table. They amputated both his arms, his hands having been blown off by an accident in one of the batteries. In the course of the morning, whilst conversing with the surgeon who had performed the operation, he told the Colonel that he had acted contrary to his instructions, which were never to amputate, but to cure if possible. When he was asked for the reason of such an inhuman order having been issued, his reply was that the Emperor Napoleon did not wish numbers of mutilated men to be sent back to France, as it would make a bad impression upon the people. “You must be a bold man to act in opposition to this order.” He replied: “Affairs are beginning to change, and, moreover, it is now necessary that the soldiers should know they will be taken proper care of in the event of being wounded, and not left to die like dogs. We send as many as we can at night to Bayonne by the boats; thus we clear out the hospitals a little.” In conversations with many of the officers they detailed acts committed by their soldiers in Spain so revolting to human nature that one refuses to commit them to paper. A chef de bataillon once asked him how the English managed with their soldiers when they wanted them to advance and attack an enemy. The reply was simply, “Forward!” “Ah! that way will not do with us. We are obliged to excite our men with spirits, or to work upon their feelings by some animating address; and very often, when I have fancied I had brought them up to the fighting[Pg 80] pitch, some old hand would make a remark which in an instant spoilt all I had said, and I had to begin my speech all over again.” The Colonel asked how they managed to provision their men when they went out on expeditions that lasted ten or twenty days. The answer was: “Our biscuits are made with a hole in the centre. Each biscuit is the ration for a day. Sometimes twenty are delivered to each soldier, who is given to understand that he has no further claim on the commisariat for those days.” “But it is impossible for the soldier to carry twenty.” “We know that very well, but he has no claim; and how he lives in the meanwhile we do not ask. Perhaps he lives on the country.” In other words, he steals! In the hospital he was attended by a Spanish barber. As he could speak Spanish fluently, they had a good deal of talk. The barber used to tell all he heard and saw of what was passing both inside and outside the fortress. When he learnt that the Colonel was an engineer, he offered to bring him a plan of all the underground drains and of the aqueduct. The attendant, although a good-natured man, kept a sharp eye on the barber; so it was a difficult matter for him to give anything without being detected. At last, one morning when preparing to shave him, he succeeded in shoving a plan under the bedclothes. The Colonel seized the earliest opportunity of examining it, and from the knowledge he had before acquired of the place he soon mastered the directions of the drains, etc. From that moment his whole attention was fixed on the means of making his escape. He knew that the hospital was situated in the principal street, the ends of which terminated upon the fortifications bounding the harbour. If once he could gain the[Pg 81] street he had only to turn to the right or left to gain the ramparts, and so make his escape from the town in the best manner he could. One evening just at dusk, when the medical men took leave of them for the night, one of them left his cocked hat on the bed. As soon as the Colonel noticed this he put it on his head, hurried downstairs, and made direct for the great door; but he found it so completely blocked up by the guard that, unless by pushing them aside, it was not possible to pass undiscovered. He therefore retreated upstairs in despair, and threw the hat down on the bed. Scarcely had he done so when in rushed the doctor, asking for his chapeau. They were more than once visited by the crews of the boats which arrived nightly from France. The sight of the prisoners seemed to afford the Frenchmen great gratification, but there was nothing in their manner which could in any way offend. Very unexpectedly one evening the Governor’s aide-de-camp came to the prison and told the officers to prepare immediately to go to France. A Portuguese Captain, one of the party of prisoners, was dreadfully in fear of being sent there, and with great warmth of manner told the aide-de-camp that Lord Wellington would soon be in possession of the place, and if the prisoners were not forthcoming he would hold the Governor answerable in person. It is supposed that the aide went and reported this conversation to the Governor, as he did not return for some time, and then told them it was too late to embark that night, as the boats had sailed. They were never afterwards threatened to be sent away. About the middle of August the garrison began to flatter themselves that the siege was turned into a regular blockade, and that they would be relieved by the suc[Pg 82]cesses of Marshal Soult. Their spirits ran high, their hopes were elated. The 15th of August, the birthday of Napoleon, was observed as a day of rejoicing among the garrison, and at nightfall the letter “N” of a very large size was brilliantly lighted up on the face of the donjon. When the operations of the second siege began a Captain who visited the Colonel kept him au fait of all that was going on. One day a Spanish Captain who had sided with the French came into the hospital—it was on the evening of the assault. He was wringing his hands, tearing his hair, and swearing he had heard the shrieks of his wife and daughters, and had seen his house in flames. The French officers took the poor man’s outcries with great merriment, and the Spaniard must have bitterly regretted the day when he deserted the English. The French officers did not fail to taunt him with having done so, and ridiculed his frantic actions. In the course of the next day Colonel Jones was asked if he would like to speak with a corporal of sappers who had been made prisoner during the sortie. To his surprise, a fine, tall youngster, a stranger to him, walked into the ward, dressed in a red jacket. Now, blue was the colour when the Colonel was taken prisoner. “When did you join the army, corporal?” he asked. “Yesterday morning, Colonel. I was put on duty in the trenches last night, and in a few minutes I was brought into the town by the enemy.” “I could not help laughing, though he wore a rueful expression,” says the Colonel. One morning a Captain of artillery, whom he had never before seen, came into the ward and commenced conversing about the siege. He observed that the whole second parallel of the British trenches was one entire[Pg 83] battery, and if there were as many guns as there were embrasures, he said, “we shall be joliment fouettés.” The Colonel’s reply was: “Most assuredly you will. Depend upon it, there are as many guns as embrasures. It is not our fashion to make batteries and stick logs of wood into the embrasures in the hope of frightening the enemy.” He made a grimace, and with a shrug of the shoulders left the ward. Next morning the surgeon came, as usual, to dress the wounds. This was about half-past seven. All was still, and he joyously exclaimed, as he entered: “So, gentlemen, we have another day’s reprieve!” In about half an hour afterwards, whilst Colonel Jones was under his hands, the first salvo from the breaching batteries was fired. Several shot rattled through the hospital and disturbed the tranquillity of the inmates. The instrument dropped from the surgeon’s hands, and he exclaimed, “Le jeu sera bientôt fini!” Then very composedly the good doctor went on with his work. The opening of the batteries made a great stir amongst all hands. A hint was given the prisoners to prepare to be removed into the castle. A private hint was given to the Colonel to be sage on the way up, as the Captain of the escort was méchant, and that it would be better to be quiet and orderly. This, perhaps, was intended to deter any of them from attempting to escape. The wounded prisoners were moved in one body up the face of the hill to the entrance of the castle. Under the Mirador battery they were exposed to a sharp musketry fire. Some of the party were wounded, the Portuguese Captain severely. A building on the sea-side, which had been constructed for a powder magazine, was now converted into their hospital, the interior being fitted up with wooden beds.[Pg 84] In the area surrounding the building were placed the unwounded prisoners. As the number of wounded from the ramparts increased, the hospital filled rapidly, and to prevent the fire from the English batteries being directed upon them some of the prisoners were desired to hoist a black flag on the roof. While they were doing so the Colonel told the French officer that it was labour in vain, as the British had learnt that this building was their great depot for powder, and so hoisting a flag would be regarded as a ruse to preserve their ammunition. Little benefit did they get from the ensign. After the capture of the island Santa Clara, hardly could anyone move about that part of the castle opposite to the island without the risk of being hit. Grape and shrapnel swept the whole of the face, and it was only at night that fresh water could be fetched from the tank. The garrison had a fixed idea that the assault would take place at night, so each morning they rose with happy faces—another twenty-four hours’ reprieve! On the 31st of August, when the first rattle of musketry was heard in the castle, an inquiring look pervaded each countenance; but no one spoke. As the firing continued and the rattle grew and grew, little doubt remained as to the cause. Every soldier seized his musket and hurried with haste to his post. The Colonel was then ordered not to speak or hold converse with the unwounded prisoners outside. One French officer asked him if he thought that the English prisoners would remain quiet if an assault of the breach should take place, adding, “If they were to make any attempt they would all be shot.” Colonel Jones replied: “Do not fancy you have a flock of sheep penned within these walls. Happen what may, shoot us or not, you will be required to give a satisfactory account of us when the castle is taken.” From the commencement of the assault until the rush[Pg 85] into the castle upon the capture of the town, not the slightest information could they obtain as to the state of affairs at the breach. The period that intervened was to the prisoners one of the most anxious and painful suspense. At last the tale was told by the awful spectacle of the interior of the hospital. In an instant the ward was crowded with the maimed and wounded. The amputation-table was in full play, and until nearly daylight the following morning the surgeons were unceasingly at work. To have such a scene passing at the foot of one’s bed was painful enough. Added to this the agonizing shrieks and groans and the appearance of the sappers and Grenadiers who had been blown up by the explosion in the breach, their uniforms nearly burnt off, and their skins blackened and scorched by gunpowder—all this was truly appalling. The appearance of these men resembled anything but human beings. Death soon put an end to their sufferings, and relieved all from these most distressing sights. Of all wounds, whether of fractured limbs or otherwise, those caused by burns from gunpowder seemed to produce the most excruciating pain. In the rear of the donjon was a small building, in which was stored much gunpowder. Shells were falling fast and thick around it, so a detachment of soldiers was sent to withdraw the ammunition. This dangerous service they were performing in a most gallant manner, and had nearly completed their work, when some shells fell into the building, exploded the barrels that remained, and blew the building, with some of the soldiers, into the air, not leaving a vestige to show that such an edifice had stood there. There were three French ladies in the garrison. They were on their way to France when the investment took place. These ladies were permitted to enter the hos[Pg 86]pital, and were allowed a small space at one end of the wooden bedsteads. There they were for several days and nights. The only water they could obtain to wash in was sea-water. As the number of the wounded increased, some of the officers who were lying upon the floor were loud in their complaints that madame and her daughters were occupying the space which properly belonged to them. They succeeded in getting the ladies turned out, to find shelter from shot and shell where best they could! The day the castle capitulated Colonel Jones went in search of his fair companions, and found them, nearly smoke-dried, under a small projecting rock. One of the young ladies was extremely pretty. Shortly after the siege she was married to the English Commissary appointed to attend upon the garrison until sent to England. The change from the hospital to the naked rock relieved them from witnessing many a painful scene, as the amputating-table was placed near their end of the ward. After the capture of the town a heavy bombardment of the castle took place, by salvos of shells from more than sixty pieces of artillery. There were only a few seconds between the noise made by the discharge of the mortars and the descent of the shells. Those of the mutilated who were fortunate enough to snatch a little sleep and so forget their sufferings were awakened by the crash of ten or a dozen shells falling upon or in the building, whose fuses threw a lurid light through the gloom. The silence within, unbroken save by the hissing of the burning composition, the agonized feelings of the wounded during those few moments of suspense, are not to be described. Many an unlucky soldier was brought to the table to undergo a second operation. The wretched surgeons were engaged nearly the entire night. Rest[Pg 87] was impossible. You could not choose but hear. The legs and arms were thrown out as soon as amputated, and fell on the rooks. It was not an agreeable sight. Those who vote for war do not realize these little details in the programme. War, they say, breeds heroes. It is but justice to the French medical officers to state that their conduct during the whole period of their harassing and laborious duties was marked by the greatest feeling and kindness of manner, as well as by skilful attention to the relief of all who came under their hands. The unfortunate prisoners who were not wounded had been placed in the area round the hospital, and being without cover, suffered at every discharge. The Colonel exerted himself to obtain a few pickaxes and shovels to throw up some sort of splinter-proof, but it was in vain he pleaded, and in the end fifty were killed or wounded out of 150. From the surgeons and hospital attendants they experienced great kindness. Their diet was the same as that of the French wounded soldiers. Their greatest luxury was three stewed prunes! The effects of the vertical fire on the interior of the castle were so destructive that, had it been continued six hours longer, the garrison would have doubtless surrendered at discretion. They had lost all hope that Soult could relieve them. Everybody now sought shelter where best he could among the rocks. Still, no nook or corner appeared to be a protection from the shrapnel shells. A sergeant of the Royals, standing at the foot of a bedstead, was struck by a ball from a shrapnel shell, and fell dead while talking. An Italian soldier, while trying to prepare some broth for dinner, was blown into the air—soup, bowl, and all! [Pg 88] The excellence of the British artillery is well known. Nothing could surpass the precision with which the shells were thrown or the accuracy with which the fuses were cut. During the siege our men in the British trenches little heeded the lazy French shells which were thrown into our batteries. From the length of the fuses sufficient time was often allowed before they burst to put themselves under cover; and when they did burst, the splinters flew lazily around. But when the sound of an English shell was heard in the castle, or when the men stationed in the donjon cried, “Garde la bombe!” everybody was on the alert. Touching the ground and bursting were almost simultaneous, and the havoc from the splinters was terrible. It appeared to be of little avail where a man hid himself: no place was secure from them. A French officer of Engineers, who was very badly wounded, kindly lent the Colonel some of the professional books which were supplied to him. Many were works which he had never been able to procure. Much pleasure and instruction did he derive from their perusal. He found out that the French Engineers were supplied with them by the Government, and their Generals also with the best maps of the country. One day the Colonel was called to the door of the ward by a French officer, who exclaimed, as he pointed to a large convoy of English transports coming in under full sail: “Voilà les fiacres qui viennent nous chercher!” (“There are the cabs coming to fetch us.”) It was a most cheering and beautiful sight—the cabs that were sent to fetch us home! When Colonel Jones was told, shortly after, that he was no longer a prisoner, he began to look round for the best sword in the castle to replace the one which that rude French Captain had taken from him. He discovered a handsome sabre belonging to a wounded[Pg 89] staff-officer, so he sent and desired that it might be taken down from the place where it was hanging, as he wanted such a weapon. “I have it still by me. It was the only sword I wore until the end of the war, and often, when at the outposts with a flag of truce, have I seen the French officers regard the eagles on the belt with anything but a gratified look. “In 1815 I was quartered at Paris, being engineer in charge of the fortifications on Mont-Martre. There I frequently saw several of the St. Sebastian officers, and from my old friend the Chirurgien-Major I received many visits. “We both agreed that, though the tables were turned, our present position was far more agreeable than when our acquaintance began in St. Sebastian.” From Muswell’s “Peninsular Sketches.” Henry Colburn, publisher. <hr class="chap" /> [Pg 90] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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