Gibraltar

 
"Whiskered Pandours and fierce Hussars,"
 

looked like the brave and gallant Englishmen they were. Nor were they alone: for there were civilians also – magistrates and lawyers and judges; and, better still, the lovely English women, who are the ornament of every English colony. All received me with a manner so cordial as assured me that I was not to be treated with cold formality as a stranger. If I had come into a camp of American officers, I could not have had a more hearty welcome.

At length the clock struck the hour of midnight, and I rose to take leave of the Governor; but he answered, "No, that will never do; you must take a lady out to supper." Being under military orders, I could but obey, and, essaying for the first time the part of a Spanish cavalier, conducted a Spanish lady into the dining-hall. This is a historical apartment, in which have been fêted all the royalties that have visited Gibraltar. On the walls are hung the portraits of the Governors from the beginning of the English occupation in 1704, among which every visitor looks for that of "Old Eliott," the defender of the place in the great siege. He was followed by a long succession of brave men, who, in keeping Gibraltar, felt they were guarding the honor of England.

After this pleasant duty had been performed, I returned to the Governor to "report" that "I had obeyed his orders," and that "in taking leave, I could only express the wish that Gibraltar might never be attacked in any other way than it had been that evening," adding that "if he should treat all my countrymen as he had treated me, I could promise him on their part, as on mine, an unconditional surrender!"

Thus introduced, I found myself at home in a circle which included men who had seen service in all parts of the world. Next to the Governor I was attracted by a grand old officer whom I had observed on the parade, his breast being covered with decorations won in many wars. This was Major-General Walker, who has been in the army for a large part of the reign of Queen Victoria. As long ago as the Anglo-Russian war, he was an adjutant in one of the regiments sent to the Crimea, where he fought at the Alma and at Inkerman, and took part in the long siege of Sebastopol. Eager to be in the post of danger, he volunteered for a night attack, in which he led a party that took and destroyed a Russian rifle-pit. Soon after he was dangerously wounded in the trenches, and his right arm amputated, for which he was promoted and received a number of decorations. He afterward served throughout the campaign of 1860, in China.³

Lord Gifford, though too young for service dating so far back, and of such slender figure that he looks more like a university student than like a soldier, was the hero of the Ashantee War, who led his men through forest and jungle, in the face of the savage foe, to the capture of Coomassie, for which he received the Victoria Cross, the proud distinction of a British soldier.

A little volume published in England, entitled "The Victoria Cross in the Colonies," by Lieutenant-Colonel Knollys, F.R.G.S., gives the following sketch of this gallant officer.

"The hero of the Ashantee War, 1873-74, was undoubtedly Ederic, third Baron Gifford. Born in 1849, he entered the Eighty-third Regiment as ensign in 1869, became lieutenant the following year, and in 1873 was transferred to the Twenty-fourth Regiment. He was one of the body of volunteers who accompanied Sir Garnet Wolseley to the Gold Coast. Appointed to train and command the Winnebeh company of Russell's native regiment, he took part in the defence of Absacampa and the defeat of the Ashantee army. He subsequently, for several weeks, performed the duties of adjutant to Russell's regiment. When the Ashantee territory was invaded, to Lord Gifford was assigned the command of a scouting party. This party was fifty strong, and composed of men from the West India Regiment of Houssas, Kossos, and Bonny natives.

"Early on the morning of January 6th, 1874, Gifford, with his scouts, crossed the Prah in canoes, and explored the country on both sides of the road to Coomassie. The rest of the army crossed by the bridge the same day. Marching some five miles ahead of the advance guard, he reached a village called Essiaman, and found that it was occupied by an Ashantee detachment, which, on advancing, he at once attacked and put to flight, losing only one man severely wounded. Advancing to a village called Akrofumin, he discovered that it was held by the Ashantees; but not being able to ascertain their strength, which he believed to be superior to his own, he prudently contented himself with observing them.

"After remaining in this critical position for several days, he had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy retire. He then pushed on – indeed never left off pushing on in the most daring yet skilful manner till Coomassie was reached – always keeping well ahead. His scouts were devoted to Lord Gifford, 'whose docile savages,' writes an historian of the campaign, 'worshipped the English gentleman for his superior skill and spirit in climbing that steep barrier range, the Adansi Hills, dividing the Assin from the Ashantee country. The night previous to the action at Amoaful, he carefully reconnoitred the enemy's position, and during the fight he was, with his gallant little band, as usual, well in advance.

"The next day he was sent to reconnoitre the village of Becqua. He had got close up when some twenty Ashantees sprang up in the bush and fired, but providentially without effect. On receipt of his report Sir Garnet Wolseley despatched a strong force to capture the place. Gifford's scouts led, followed by a body of Houssas, Russell's Regiment, and the Naval Brigade, the Forty-second Highlanders, and a company of the Twenty-third Royal Welsh Fusileers acting as supports. As soon as the firing began, Gifford, followed by his handful of scouts, rushed on, and dashed into the town, though it was occupied by a thousand Ashantees. The Houssas, for once, could not be induced to charge; they persisted in lying down and firing unaimed shots into the bush.

"In the meantime Lord Gifford and his party were exposed to the concentrated fire of the defenders. His best scout was killed, and he and all his men were wounded. In fact, he was in an almost desperate situation. On this he shouted to the Naval Brigade to come to his assistance. With a cheer the gallant fellows replied to the appeal, and at their charge the enemy fled.

"Three days later the action of Ordahsu took place, Coomassie was entered, and the campaign was virtually at an end.

"From that time Lord Gifford, there being no further need for his services as a scout, acted as aide-de-camp to Sir Garnet Wolseley. During the whole war this young, slight, modest-looking lad had displayed the greatest enterprise and intrepidity, and rendered the most valuable services. Fortune had in this case certainly favored the brave; for notwithstanding unremitting exertions and constant exposure both to climate and the bullets of the enemy, he escaped disease, and was only once wounded. Modest as he was brave, he never sought to make capital out of his exploits. They were, however, too conspicuous to escape notice, and he was repeatedly mentioned in despatches.

"On his return to England, he paid a visit to his regiment, the Twenty-fourth, then stationed at Aldershot. He was received with the greatest enthusiasm by both men and officers. The former carried him shoulder-high into camp, and the latter entertained him at dinner; yet he was as unaffected and simple as if he had only returned from an ordinary duty. For his daring conduct on the Gold Coast he was granted the Victoria Cross."

It was a privilege to spend an hour with General Walker at his own table, and to draw him into conversation on the wars in which he had taken part, and the great soldiers who had been his companions in arms. Of his own part in these events he spoke very modestly, like the true soldier that he is; though no modesty could hide the story told by that empty sleeve of the arm that he had left in the trenches at Sebastopol. From the Southeastern corner of Europe to the eastern coast of Asia, is a long stretch round the globe, but here, when the scene of war was transferred from Russia to China, we find the same gallant officer among the foremost in the storming of the Taku forts, and with the combined French and English army that fought its way to Peking.

As the house of the Major General stands on the Line-Wall, it is close to the enormous batteries in the casemates below, (while one of the hundred-ton guns is mounted near the Alameda, quite "within speaking distance,") and must be rudely rocked by the thunder which shakes even the solid ground like an earthquake. "What do you do at such a time?" I asked of the ladies of the family, to which they answered gayly, "Oh, we don't mind it." They took good care, however, to take down their mirrors, and to lay away their glass and china, lest they should be shattered in pieces. Then they threw open their windows, and let the explosion come. For me this would be a trifle too near, and with all my love for Gibraltar, I do not think I should choose a hundred-ton gun as a next-door neighbor.

As I rose to leave, I found horses saddled and bridled at the door, on which the General and his niece were about to take their afternoon ride, for the officers in Gibraltar are not so shut up within its walls, that they cannot take their pleasure as if they were in the field. True, the Rock does not offer a very wide space for excursions, but the gay troopers of both sexes have but to ride out of the Northern gate, and cross the Spanish lines, and the whole country is before them. One day I met the Governor coming in at full speed, with his staff behind him; and almost daily there are riding parties or hunting parties, which go off for hours, and come back with the ruddy English glow of health upon their faces.

Indeed if one had to go about on foot, he need not feel as if he were shut up in a fortress-prison, for there are pleasant walks over the Rock, leading to many a nook, from which one may look off upon the sea, where, if he has an agreeable companion, the hours will not seem long. If for a few months the climate has a little too much of the warmth of Africa, there is a delightful promenade along the Alameda, where friends may saunter on summer evenings, inhaling the fresh breezes; or sit under the trees, and (as they listen to the bands playing the familiar airs of England) talk of their dear native island.

CHAPTER VII.
THE GREAT SIEGE

Although Gibraltar is the greatest fortress in the world, if it were only that, it would not have half the interest which it now has. The supreme interest of the Rock is in the record of centuries that is graven on its rugged front. For nearly eight hundred years it was the prize of war between the Spaniard and the Moor, and its legends are all of battle and of blood. Ten times it was besieged and passed back and forth from conqueror to conqueror, the Cross replacing the Crescent, and the Crescent the Cross. Ten times was the battle lost and won. When, at last, in 1598 the Spaniards drove the Moors out of Spain, they remained masters of Gibraltar, and held it with undisputed sway for a little more than a hundred years. They might have held it still but for a surprise, hardly worthy to be called a siege; for the place was taken by a coup de main, that is one of the strangest incidents of history. It was the War of the Spanish Succession, waged by half Europe to determine which of two incompetents should occupy the throne of Spain. The English sent a squadron into the Mediterranean, under Sir George Rooke, who, after cruising about and accomplishing little, bethought himself, in order not to return in complete failure, to try his hand on Gibraltar. The place was well fortified, with a hundred guns, but inside the walls only a hundred and fifty men (a man and a half to a gun!), so that it could offer but a brief resistance to a bombardment, and thus the Spaniards lost in three days what they spent more than three years to recover, and spent in vain.

Though the place was taken by an English fleet, it was not taken for England, but in the name of an Archduke of Austria, whom England supported as a pretender to the Spanish throne; and had he succeeded in gaining it the place would doubtless have been turned over to him (as on a visit to Gibraltar he was received by the garrison as lawful sovereign of Spain, and proclaimed King by the title of Charles III.), but as he was finally defeated, England thought it not a bad thing to keep the place for herself.

Hardly had it slipped from their hands before the Spaniards realized the tremendous blow which had been given to their power and their pride, and made desperate endeavors to recover it. The very same year they attacked it with a large army and fleet. At the beginning an attempt was made which would seem to have been conceived in the heroism of despair. The eastern side of Gibraltar terminates in a tremendous cliff, rising fourteen hundred feet above the sea, which thunders against the rocks below. This side has never been fortified, for the reason that it is so defended by nature that it needs no other defence. One would as soon think of storming El Capitan in the valley of the Yosemite as the eastern side of the Rock of Gibraltar. Yet he who has followed a Swiss guide in the Alps knows that with his cool head and agile step he will climb heights which seemed inaccessible. And so a Spanish shepherd, or goatherd, had found a path from Catalan Bay, up which he offered to lead a party to the top, and five hundred men were daring enough to follow him. They knew that the attempt was desperate, but braced up their courage by religious enthusiasm, devoting themselves to the sacrifice by taking the sacrament, and binding themselves to capture Gibraltar or perish in the attempt. In the darkness and silence of the night they crept slowly upward till a part had reached the top, and concealed themselves in St. Michael's Cave until the break of day; when with the earliest dawn they attacked the Signal Station, killing the guard, and then by ropes and ladders brought up the rest of the party. Following up the momentary success, they stormed the wall of Charles V., so called because constructed by him. But by this time the garrison had been awakened to the fact that there was an enemy within the walls. The roll of drums from below summoned the troops to arms, and soon the grenadiers came rushing up the hill. Exposed to the fire from above, many fell, but nothing could check their advance, and reaching the top they charged with such fury that half of the party that had scaled the heights soon fell, some of whom were driven over the cliff into the sea. An officer who was present during the whole of the siege tells how they made short work of it. "Five hundred Spaniards attacked the Middle Hill but were soon repulsed, and two hundred men with their commanding officer taken. The rest were killed by our shot, or in making their escape broke their necks over the rocks and precipices, which in that place are many and prodigiously high."

So ended the first and last attempt to take Gibraltar in the rear. But still the Spanish army lay encamped before the town, and the siege was kept up for six months with a loss of ten thousand men. No other attack was made during that war, though the war itself raged elsewhere for seven years more, till it was closed by the treaty of Utrecht, in which Gibraltar was finally ceded to Great Britain.

But the Spaniards did not give it up yet. In 1727 they renewed the struggle, and besieged the place for five months with nearly twenty thousand men, but with the same result as before, after which it had rest and quiet for half a century, till the time of the Great Siege, which I am now to describe.

It seems beginning a long way off to find any connection between the siege of Gibraltar and the battle of Saratoga; but one followed from the other. The surrender of General Burgoyne (who had marched from Canada with a large army to crush the Rebellion in the Colonies) was the first great event that gave hope, in the eyes of Europe, to the cause of American independence, and led France to join it openly, as she had before favored it secretly. Spain followed France, having a common hatred of England, with the special grievance of the loss of Gibraltar, which she hoped, with the help of her powerful ally, to recover.

In such a contest the chances were more evenly balanced than might be at first supposed. True, England had the advantage of possession, and if possession is nine points of the law, it is more than nine points in war, especially when the possessor is intrenched in the strongest fortress in the world. But as an offset to this, she had to hold it in an enemy's country. Gibraltar was a part of the territory of Spain, in which the English had not a foot of ground but the Rock on which they stood; while it was much nearer to France than to England. Thus the allied powers had facilities for attacking it both by land and sea, and brought against it such tremendous forces that it could not have held out for nearly four years, had it not been for the British power of resistance, animated by one of the bravest of soldiers.

To begin with, England did not commit the folly by which Spain had lost Gibraltar – in leaving it with an insufficient garrison. It had over five thousand troops in the fortress – a force by which it was thoroughly manned.

But its power for defence was doubled by having a commander, who was fitted by nature and by training for the responsibilities that were to be laid upon him. George Augustus Eliott was the son of Sir Gilbert Eliott, of Roxburghshire, where he was born in 1718. Scotch families in those days, like those of our New England fathers, were apt to be large, and the future defender of Gibraltar was one of eleven children, of whom but two were daughters, and of the nine sons George was the youngest. After such education as he could receive at home, he was sent to the continent, and entered the University of Leyden, where, with his other studies, he acquired a knowledge of German, which was to be of practical use to him afterward, as he was to serve for a year in a German army. But France was the country that then took the lead in the art of war; and from Holland he was sent to a famous military school in Picardy, founded by Vauban, the constructor of the French fortresses, where he learned the principles which he was to apply to the defence of a greater fortress than any in France. He gave particular attention also to the practice of gunnery. As Napoleon learned the art of war in the artillery school of Brienne, so did Eliott in the school of La Fère. An incidental advantage of this French education was that he acquired the language so that he could speak it fluently, a knowledge which was of service to him afterward when he had so much to do with the French, even though it were as enemies.

From France Eliott travelled into other countries on a tour of military observation, and then enlisted for a year in the Prussian army, which was considered the model in the way of discipline. Thus equipped for the life of a soldier, he returned to Scotland, where (as his father wished that he should be further inured to the practice of arms), he entered a Welsh regiment then in Edinburgh as a volunteer, and served with it for a year, from which he went into the engineer corps at Woolwich, and then into a troop of "horse grenadiers," that, under his vigorous training, became famous as a corps of heavy cavalry. When it was ordered to the Continent, he went with it, and served in Germany and the Netherlands, where he took part in several engagements and was wounded at the battle of Dettingen.

In this varied service Eliott had gained the reputation of being a brave and capable officer, but had as yet no opportunity to show the extraordinary ability which he was afterward to display. He had, however, acquired such a mastery of the art of war, that he was fitted for any position. In those days, however, promotion was slow, and he had served in the army (which he entered at the age of seventeen,) forty years, and was fifty-seven years old, and had yet reached only the grade of a Lieutenant-General, when, in 1775, he was placed in command of the fortress of Gibraltar. This was four years before the siege began, by which time he was a little turned of sixty, so that he was familiarly called "Old Eliott." But his good Scotch frame did him service now, for he was hale and strong, with a heart of oak and a frame of iron; asking no indulgence on account of his years, but ready to endure every fatigue and share every danger. Such was the man who was to conduct the defence of Gibraltar, and to be, from the beginning to the end, its very heart and soul.⁴

It was in the year 1779, and on the very longest day of the year, the 21st of June, that Spain, by order of the King, severed all communication with Gibraltar. But this was not war; it was simply non-intercourse, and not a hostile gun was fired for months. It is an awkward thing to strike the first blow where relations have been friendly. It had long been the custom of the Spaniards to keep a regiment of cavalry at San Roque, and one of infantry at Algeciras, across the bay, between which and the garrison there was a frequent exchange of military courtesies. Two days before this abrupt termination of intercourse, the Governor had been to pay his respects to General Mendoza, and found him very much embarrassed by the visit, so that he suspected something was wrong, and was not surprised when the order came down from Madrid to cut off all friendly communication. The Spaniards had resolved to make a fresh attempt to recapture Gibraltar, thinking at first that it might be done by a blockade, without a bombardment. There are two ways to take a fortress – by shot and shell, or by starvation. The latter may be slower and not so striking to the imagination as carrying a walled city by storm, but it is even more certain of success if only the operation can be completely done. But to this end the place must be sealed up so tightly that there shall be no going out nor coming in. This seems a very simple process, but in execution is not so easy, especially if the fortress be of large extent, and has approaches by land and sea. The Spaniards began with a vigor that seemed to promise success, by constructing a parallel across the isthmus which connects the Rock with the mainland. This was itself a formidable undertaking, but they seemed not to care for cost or labor. Putting ten thousand men at work, they had in a few weeks drawn a line across the Neutral Ground, which rendered access to the garrison impossible by land. Any supplies must come by sea.

To prevent this, the Spaniards had a large fleet in the Bay and cruising in the Straits. But with all their vigilance, they found it hard to keep a blockade of a Rock, with a circuit of seven miles, when there were hundreds of eyes looking out from the land, answered by hundreds of watchers from the sea. In dark nights boats with muffled oars glided between the blockading ships, and stole up to some sheltered nook, bringing news from the outside world. And there were always daring cruisers ready to attempt to run the blockade, taking any risk for the sake of the large reward in case of success. Sometimes the weather would favor them. A fierce "Levanter" blowing from the east, would drive off the fleet, and fill the Straits with fog and mist, under cover of which they could run in undiscovered. At another time a bold privateer would come in, in face of the fleet, and if sighted and pursued, would set all sail, and rush to destruction or to victory. Once under the guns of the fortress she was safe. Thus for a time the garrison received irregular supplies.⁵

But in spite of all it was often in sore and pressing need. The soldiers required to be well fed to be fit for duty, and yet not infrequently they were half starved. Six thousand capacious mouths made havoc of provisions, and a brig-load was quickly consumed. As if this was not enough, the hucksters of the town, who had got hold of the necessaries of life, secreted them to create an appearance of greater scarcity, that they might extort still larger prices from the famine-stricken inhabitants. Drinkwater, in his "History of the Siege," gives a list of prices actually paid.

"The hind-quarter of an Algerian sheep, with the head and tail, was sold for seven pounds and ten shillings; a large sow for upwards of twenty-nine pounds; a goat, with a young kid, the latter about twelve months old, for near twelve pounds. An English milch cow was sold for fifty guineas, reserving to the seller a pint of milk each day whilst she gave milk; and another cow was purchased by a Jew for sixty guineas, but the beast was in such a feeble condition that she dropped down dead before she had been removed many hundred yards."

But it was not only meat that was wanted: bread was so scarce that even biscuit-crumbs sold for a shilling a pound! The economy of flour was carried to the most minute details. It was an old custom that the soldiers who were to mount guard should powder their hair, like the servants in the royal household; but even this had to be denied them. The Governor would not waste a thimbleful of the precious article, which he had rather see going into the stomachs of his brave soldiers than plastered on their hair.

A brief entry in a soldier's diary, tells how the pinch came closer and closer: "Another bakery shut up to-day. No more flour. Even salt meat scarce, and no vegetables."

Shortly after this an examination of supplies revealed the fact that no fresh meat remained, with the exception of an old cow, which was reserved for the sick. A goose was sold for two pounds, and a turkey for four.

In such a condition – so near to the starvation point – there was but one thing to do. It was a hard necessity, but there was no help for it, and an order was issued for the immediate reduction of the soldiers' rations, already barely sufficient to sustain life.

The effect of this continued privation upon the morale of the garrison was very depressing. Hunger, like disease, weakens the vital forces, and when both come together they weigh upon the spirit until the manliest give way to discouragement. That this feeling did not become general was owing chiefly to the personal influence of the Governor, whose presence was medicine to the sick, and a new force to the well, making the brave braver and the strong stronger. When famine stared them in the face he made light of it, and taught others to make light of it by sharing their privations. At the beginning of the siege he had formed a resolution to share all the hardships of his men, even to limiting himself to the fare of a common soldier. His food was of the plainest and coarsest. As a Scotch boy he had perhaps been brought up on oatmeal porridge, and it was good enough for him still. If a blockade-runner came in with a cargo of fresh provisions, he did not reserve the best for himself, but all was sold in the open market. If it be said that he had the means to buy which others had not, yet his tastes were so simple that he preferred to share the soldier's mess rather than to partake of the richest food. Besides, he had a principle about it. To such extent did he carry this, that, on one occasion, when the enemy's commander, as a courtesy not unusual in war, sent him a present of fruit, vegetables, and game, the Governor, while returning a polite acknowledgment, begged that the act might not be repeated, for that he had a fixed resolution "never to receive or procure, by any means whatever, any provisions or other commodity for his own private use;" adding, "I make it a point of honor to partake both of plenty and scarcity in common with the lowest of my brave fellow-soldiers." Once indeed when the stress was the sharpest, he showed his men how close they could come to starvation and not die, by living eight days on four ounces of rice a day! The old hero had been preparing for just such a crisis as this by his previous life, for he had trained himself from boyhood to bear every sort of hardship and privation. The argument for total abstinence needs no stronger fact to support it than that the defence of Gibraltar was conducted by a man who needed no artificial stimulus to keep up his courage or brace his nerves against the shock of battle. "Old Eliott," the brave Scotchman and magnificent soldier, was able to stand to his guns with nothing stronger to fire his blood than cold water. Chalmers' Biographical Dictionary says:

"He was perhaps the most abstemious man of the age. His food was vegetables, and his drink water. He neither indulged himself in animal food nor wine. He never slept more than four hours at a time, so that he was up later and earlier than most other men. He had so inured himself to habits of hardness, that the things which are difficult and painful to other men were to him his daily practice, and rendered pleasant by use. It could not be easy to starve such a man into a surrender, nor to surprise him. His wants were easily supplied, and his watchfulness was beyond precedent. The example of the commander-in-chief in a besieged garrison, has a most persuasive efficacy in forming the manners of the soldiery. Like him, his brave followers came to regulate their lives by the most strict rules of discipline before there arose a necessity for so doing; and severe exercise, with short diet, became habitual to them by their own choice."

Thus the old Governor, by starving himself, taught his men how to bear starvation. After that a soldier, however pinched, would hardly dare to complain.