He halts, and looks back, till the remains of the Forty-third are abreast, to the number of some three hundred, about half of whom are crippled invalids, the other half being presentable and armed soldiery."
SERGEANT
Now show yer nerve, and be men. If you die to-day you won"t have to die to-morrow. Fall in! [The miscellany falls in.] All invalids and men without arms march ahead as well as they can. Quick--maw-w-w-ch!
[Exeunt invalids, etc.] Now! Tention! Shoulder-r-r--fawlocks! [Order obeyed.]
[The sergeant hastily forms these into platoons, who prime and load, and seem preternaturally changed from what they were into alert soldiers.
Enter French dragoons at the left-back of the scene. The rear platoon of the Forty-third turns, fires, and proceeds. The next platoon covering them does the same. This is repeated several times, staggering the pursuers. Exeunt French dragoons, giving up the pursuit. The coughing sergeant and the remnant of the Forty-third march on.]
FOURTH DESERTER [to a woman lying beside him]
What d"ye think o" that, my honey? It fairly makes me a man again.
Come, wake up! We must be getting along somehow. [He regards the woman more closely.] Why--my little chick? Look here, friends.
[They look, and the woman is found to be dead.] If I didn"t think that her poor knees felt cold!... And only an hour ago I swore to marry her!
[They remain silent. The Retreat continues in the snow without, now in the form of a file of ox-carts, followed by a mixed rabble of English and Spanish, and mules and muleteers hired by English officers to carry their baggage. The muleteers, looking about and seeing that the French dragoons gave been there, cut the bands which hold on the heavy packs, and scamper off with their mules.]
A VOICE [behind]
The Commander-in-Chief is determined to maintain discipline, and they must suffer. No more pillaging here. It is the worst case of brutality and plunder that we have had in this wretched time!
[Enter an English captain of hussars, a lieutenant, a guard of about a dozen, and three men as prisoner.]
CAPTAIN
If they choose to draw lots, only one need be made an example of.
But they must be quick about it. The advance-guard of the enemy is not far behind.
[The three prisoners appear to draw lots, and the one on whom the lot falls is blindfolded. Exeunt the hussars behind a wall, with carbines. A volley is heard and something falls. The wretched in the cellar shudder.]
FOURTH DESERTER
"Tis the same for us but for this heap of straw. Ah--my doxy is the only one of us who is safe and sound! [He kisses the dead woman.]
[Retreat continues. A train of six-horse baggage-waggons lumbers past, a mounted sergeant alongside. Among the baggage lie wounded soldiers and sick women.]
SERGEANT OF THE WAGGON-TRAIN
If so be they are dead, ye may as well drop "em over the tail-board.
"Tis no use straining the horses unnecessary.
[Waggons halt. Two of the wounded who have just died are taken out, laid down by the roadside, and some muddy snow sc.r.a.ped over them. Exeunt waggons and sergeant.
An interval. More English troops pa.s.s on horses, mostly shoeless and foundered.
Enter SIR JOHN MOORE and officers. MOORE appears on the pale evening light as a handsome man, far on in the forties, the orbits of his dark eyes showing marks of deep anxiety. He is talking to some of his staff with vehement emphasis and gesture.
They cross the scene and go on out of sight, and the squashing of their horses" hoofs in the snowy mud dies away.]
FIFTH DESERTER [incoherently in his sleep]
Poise fawlocks--open pans--right hands to pouch--handle ca"tridge-- bring it--quick motion-bite top well off--prime--shut pans--cast about--load---
FIRST DESERTER [throwing a shoe at the sleeper]
Shut up that! D"ye think you are a "cruity in the awkward squad still?
SECOND DESERTER
I don"t know what he thinks, but I know what I feel! Would that I were at home in England again, where there"s old-fashioned tipple, and a proper G.o.d A"mighty instead of this eternal "Ooman and baby; --ay, at home a-leaning against old Bristol Bridge, and no questions asked, and the winter sun slanting friendly over Baldwin Street as "a used to do! "Tis my very belief, though I have lost all sure reckoning, that if I were there, and in good health, "twould be New Year"s day about now. What it is over here I don"t know. Ay, to- night we should be a-setting in the tap of the "Adam and Eve"-- lifting up the tune of "The Light o" the Moon." "Twer a romantical thing enough. "A used to go som"at like this [he sings in a nasal tone]:--
"O I thought it had been day, And I stole from here away; But it proved to be the light o" the moon!"
[Retreat continues, with infantry in good order. Hearing the singing, one of the officers looks around, and detaching a patrol enters the ruined house with the file of men, the body of soldiers marching on. The inmates of the cellar bury themselves in the straw. The officer peers about, and seeing no one prods the straw with his sword.
VOICES [under the straw]
Oh! h.e.l.l! Stop it! We"ll come out! Mercy! Quarter!
[The lurkers are uncovered.]
OFFICER
If you are well enough to sing bawdy songs, you are well enough to march. So out of it--or you"ll be shot, here and now!
SEVERAL
You may shoot us, captain, or the French may shoot us, or the devil may take us; we don"t care which! Only we can"t stir. Pity the women, captain, but do what you will with us!
[The searchers pa.s.s over the wounded, and stir out those capable of marching, both men and women, so far as they discover them.
They are p.r.i.c.ked on by the patrol. Exeunt patrol and deserters in its charge.
Those who remain look stolidly at the highway. The English Rear- guard of cavalry crosses the scene and pa.s.ses out. An interval.
It grows dusk.]
SPIRIT IRONIC