The QMG, a Rifleman, and an old friend of Harry’s, exchanged a meaning look with him. Dalhousie said fussily: ‘Yes, yes, wait now! This is a little awkward, Drake!’ An order to wait, while his lordship tried to make up his mind what to do, was not at all to Harry’s taste. He made his horse fidget, himself in a fret of impatience, and words of advice on the tip of his insubordinate tongue. He could see that Drake was getting annoyed, and just as he was on the point of bursting into hasty speech, he heard Dalhousie say: ‘Better to take the village, Drake!’
That was quite enough for Harry, who had decided, when he first rode up, that the village ought to be taken without loss of time. ‘Certainly, my lord!’ he said briskly, and wheeling his horse, dashed off, deaf to the voices of Dalhousie and Drake, who both shouted to him to wait.
‘Take the village? Good!’ said Vandeleur.
Harry, having seen the 52nd deploying into line, and the Rifles spreading out in deadly little parties of sharpshooters, galloped off to the nearest battalion of the 7th division, and thrust his way up to the officer in command of it. ‘Lord Dalhousie desires you closely to follow this brigade of the Light division!’ he announced.
‘Who are you, sir?’ demanded the colonel, glaring at him.
‘Never mind that! Disobey my lord’s order at your peril!’ Harry snapped back at him, in his most reckless fashion.
Off he shot again, to join his brigade in its rush upon the village. He reached the brook before it amongst the foremost, but there he suffered a check, his horse refusing to put a hoof over the bank. Twice Harry brought him up to it, and twice he came to a slithering halt. A beautiful bay went past Harry, down the steep slope, and Harry, with a furious oath, kicked his feet clear of the stirrups, and vaulted out of the saddle, snatching at the bay
’s tail. He was dragged across the brook, and up the farther bank, and found that the bay’s rider was Cadoux.
‘Well, if it isn’t our esteemed Brigade-Major!’ said Cadoux. ‘And what might you have done with your horse, Pray?’
‘Abandoned the brute,’ said Harry.
‘How very like you!’ Cadoux sighed. ‘Now you’ll have to walk.’ ‘Who cares?’ retorted Harry. ‘I’ll go with your company.’
‘Honoured, Captain Smith!’ murmured Cadoux, bowing. ‘But in that case I’m afraid you’ll have to run, for you see we-er-we do like to be first in the field!’
First in the field they were, and in that furious rush upon the village, through ditches, over walls, in and out amongst the houses and me gardens, whatever doubts Harry had nursed of Cadoux’ quality were put to rest. Wherever the firing was hottest, there was Cadoux, not a hair out of place, deaf to the whistle of shots all round him, encouraging his men in his calm way. ‘Keep it steady, lads!’ he said, when the rifle-fire grew momentarily ragged. ‘Now, no untidiness! That’s right-that’s good shooting! We’ll move on, Sergeant: I really think we must dispossess those noisy, gentlemen in our front’
Harry, himself hoarse from cheering on the men, left him driving a party of voltigeurs out of the garden, where they had ensconced themselves, and made his way to Ross’s battery. He got a troop-horse from Ross, and plunged back into the fight for the village, catching a glimpse of Cadoux once, but not getting within speaking distance until they met on the farmer side of the river, dusty, dishevelled, and intent only on getting the men into order again after their impetuous sweep through the village.
Cadoux removed his shako, and shook the dust off it. Harry rode his trooper up to him, his eyes very bright between their narrowed lids, and his lean cheeks still flushed with excitement. Cadoux looked at him with a flickering smile. ‘Well, Captain Smith?’ he drawled. ‘Finished harrowing hell and raking up the devil?’
Harry laughed. ‘Oh, by God, if we are to talk of harrowing hell-!’ He stretched out his hand. “Thank you for the loan of your horse’s tail!’
Cadoux looked at him for an instant, his brows lifting in surprise. Then, with a little laugh, he held out his own hand, and shook Harry’s sinewy one. ‘Don’t mention it!’ he said, in his most finicking tone. ‘I do hope you didn’t pull any of his hairs out? Such a lovely creature, aren’t you, Barossa?’
‘Oh, is that the charger you got at Barossa?’ Harry asked. ‘Is it true you found the holster full of doubloons?’
‘Rumour, my dear fellow, rumour!’ Cadoux said, with an airy wave of his hand. ‘It was a nice battle, though: a very nice battle. Dear old Graham stood in the river, up to his waist, shouting almost as loudly as you, until one of our fellows said: ‘Do go and take care of yourself, old corporal, and get out of our way!’
Harry burst out laughing, and was still laughing when he got back to Vandeleur’s side. Lord Dalhousie had arrived in a great bustle, with Drake beside him. ‘Most brilliantly achieved indeed!’ Dalhousie told Vandeleur. ‘Where is the officer you sent to me for orders?’ Harry rode forward. ‘Here I am, my lord.’
Dalhousie looked him over. ‘Upon my word, sir! You receive and carry orders quicker than any officer I ever saw!’
Harry opened his eyes. ‘You said, “Take the village,”’ he protested. ‘My lord, there it is, guns and all!’
Dalhousie put up a hand to hide a smile, but Drake grinned openly, and said: ‘Well done, Harry!’
4
The brigade being allowed a breathing-space while it reformed, the men had leisure to notice the heavy roar and crash of artillery ahead of them, on their left flank which they had not previously been aware of. It meant that Graham was in action to the north; and this fact, coupled with the very considerable advance all along the front, seemed to show that the Allied army was closing in on Vittoria. The battle was by no means over, however, for although the French were forced back, they fought with a great deal of stubbornness over every yard of the ground, their sharpshooters taking advantage of every ditch and every shrub. Vandeleur’s brigade was fiercely engaged the whole afternoon, but in a running fight, over ground affording plenty of cover, the Light Bobs were unbeatable, never exposing themselves unnecessarily, nor massing in bodies large enough to provide good marks for the enemy. Where Kempt was, or how he was faring, no one knew, for the land was too undulating to allow of any very comprehensive view being taken of the rest of the field. But as the day wore on, the want of effective cavalry support began to be felt by those who had any time to think of anything but keeping up a steady aim.
The noise of the firing grew ever more deafening, till one had to shout to be heard above the appalling din. Smoke began to lie heavily over the plain; the air was so acrid with it that many men found it impossible to stop coughing. Through it, from a slight hill where he stood beside Ross’s brigade of guns, Harry could see the dark mass of the enemy. Pencils of fire shot through it incessantly; shells screamed overhead, and burst in crash upon crash, sending up showers of mud, and stones, and scattering whole tree-branches, and splinters of rock, and often more horrible debris, over the lines.
‘By God, if ever I saw such an inferno!” Harry exclaimed.
As he spoke, his horse fell under him, like a shot rabbit. He had just time to spring clear, and at once began to look for the wound. He had not been conscious of any missiles falling near enough to hurt the trooper, but in the middle of such a storm of bullets and shells it was possible that it had been hit without his knowledge. But although the horse was apparently dead, not a trace of a wound could he find upon it. He discovered that its heart was beating, and tried the experiment of giving it a kick on the nose. It answered admirably. The trooper gave its head a shake and instantly scrambled to its feet. Harry jumped into the saddle again, and one of Ross’s gunners shouted to him that he had seen the same thing happen before, the wind, from one of the enemy’s cannon-shot having acted on the poor beast like a knock-out blow.