Long, loud, and hearty was the cheering as the last
chorus concluded. “Very good song, very
well sung, jolly companions every one,” shouted
the doctor. “Now, Manley, keep the ball
rolling, give us the ’The Bivouac,’”
Captain Manley emptied his glass, and, without hesitation,
began—
The bivouac.
“The weary march is over, boys,
the camp fire’s burning bright,
So gather round the blazing logs, we’ll
keep high feast to-night,
For every heart is full of joy, and every
cheek aglow,
That after months of waiting, at last
we meet the foe.
To-morrow’s sun will see the fight,
and ere that sun goes down,
Our glorious flag another wreath of victory
shall crown.
Hurrah, hurrah for the bivouac,
With comrades tried and true,
With faces bright, and spirits
light,
And the foemen’s fires
in view.
“Then fill your cups with Spanish
wine, and let the toast go round,
Here’s a health to all who love
us on dear old England’s ground.
Be their tresses gold or auburn, or black
as ebon’s hue,
Be their eyes of witching hazel, loving
gray, or heaven’s blue,
Here’s to them all, the girls we
love, God bless them every one;
May we all be here to toast them when
to-morrow’s work is done.
Hurrah, hurrah, &c.
“But whate’er to-morrow bring
us, it shall shed no gloom to-night,
For a British soldier does not flinch
from thought of death in fight;
No better ending could we wish, no worthier
do we know,
Than to fall for King and country, with
our face towards the foe;
And if we go, our friends who stay will
keep our memory bright,
And will drink to us in silence by many
a camp-fire’s light.
Hurrah, hurrah, &c.”
When the last chorus had ceased, the boys, who had
had a long march that morning, and were thoroughly
tired, stole quietly off to bed, but it was not till
long after they had gone to sleep that the jovial
party round the fire broke up, and that Sam was relieved
from his duties of concocter of punch.
Busaco and Torres Vedras.
Instead of pressing forward upon his invasion of Portugal,
Massena prepared to besiege Almeida, and for a month
the British and Portuguese army remained in their
position within a few hours’ march of that town.
Wellington expected that Almeida would be able to
resist for two months, and hoped to find some opportunity
for falling suddenly upon the besiegers; but even
a resistance of two months would have made it so late
in the season that Massena must have postponed his
invasion until the next spring.
Upon the morning of the 26th of August the French
batteries opened fire, and from Guarda the dull, heavy
roar of artillery could be heard all day. As
darkness fell, the officers of the Rangers were, as
usual, assembling round their fire, when the earth
seemed to shake beneath their feet, and a flash like
that of summer lightning lit the eastern sky.
“What can that be?” was the general exclamation.
A minute later, and a deep, heavy, prolonged roar
sounded in their ears—then all was quiet.
