I scarcely know him, but I believe I admire
him more than I do God.'
'I admire him a good deal myself,' said I, 'and have good reason
to. I have fought with him, been beaten, and run away. Veni,
victus sum, evasi.'
'What!' he cried. 'You were at Barossa?'
'There and back, which many could not say,' said I. 'It was a
pretty affair and a hot one, and the Spaniards behaved abominably,
as they usually did in a pitched field; the Marshal Duke of Belluno
made a fool of himself, and not for the first time; and your friend
Sir Thomas had the best of it, so far as there was any best. He is
a brave and ready officer.'
'Now, then, you will understand!' said the boy. 'I wish to please
Sir Thomas: what would he do?'
'Well, I can tell you a story,' said I, 'a true one too, and about
this very combat of Chiclana, or Barossa as you call it. I was in
the Eighth of the Line; we lost the eagle of the First Battalion,
more betoken, but it cost you dear. Well, we had repulsed more
charges than I care to count, when your 87th Regiment came on at a
foot's pace, very slow but very steady; in front of them a mounted
officer, his hat in his hand, white-haired, and talking very
quietly to the battalions. Our Major, Vigo-Roussillon, set spurs
to his horse and galloped out to sabre him, but seeing him an old
man, very handsome, and as composed as if he were in a coffee-
house, lost heart and galloped back again.
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