Soult, with his centre smashed in, and his flanks routed in the bewildering mist, was now quite rompéd, the army thought. Men were said to be deserting from the French ranks by hundreds; and everyone knew how much valuable baggage had been lost on that disastrous retreat
But there was still no news of the breaking of the Armistice of Plasswitz, so instead of pursuing the French into their own territory, Lord Wellington halted his army, and rearranged it on the line of the Pyrenees.
The whole of August passed quietly for the Light division. At San Sebastian, Graham had resumed the siege of the town and fortress, but the rest of the army enjoyed a well-earned breathing-space, the main preoccupation of the officers being the furnishing of their several messes with food and wine. It did not take Brigade-Major Smith long to discover that the Spanish Basques carried on a contraband trade with their French neighbours, and that brandy, claret, and even sheep were to be had easily, if one knew one’s way about. Harry was besieged by his friends, and never once failed to procure for them what they wanted. ‘You’re wasted in the army,’ Cadoux said. ‘What a smuggler you would have made, to be sure! Should I soil my hands with these illicit bottles, I wonder?’
His Brigade-Major’s activities came finally to Skerrett’s ears. He complained to Harry that he could get no wine, and had not tasted mutton for months; and when Harry replied promptly that he could get both for him, he coughed, and looked sideways at Harry, and said: ‘Well, I don’t know how you manage, but if you should happen to hear of some decent claret, and some sheep, I wish you would procure them for me.’
‘Nothing easier, General!’ said Harry. ‘I’ll put my smugglers into requisition.’ He was quite as good as his word, and a few days later told Skerrett that he had got eight sheep, and a dozen of claret. Accustomed to Vandeleur’s notions of hospitality, which were lavish, he thought the consignment rather meagre, and was just beginning to apologize for it when he was bereft of all power of speech by Skerrett’s saying: ‘I’m very much obliged to you, Smith! very much obliged indeed, and shall be glad of a whole sheep, and a couple of bottles of claret.’
That was too good a story to be withheld from the brigade. Skerrett’s table became a standing joke, which spread through the division. As for seven sheep, and ten bottles of claret, Harry and Fane found them quite insufficient for the scale of their own hospitality. The joke had barely had time to grow stale, when Skerrett announced his intention of giving a grand dinner. His ADC and his Brigade-Major, when this news was broken to them, carefully avoided meeting each other’s eyes. ‘Whom do you invite, sir?’ Harry asked. ‘I must ask Barnard and Colborne, of course, and Blakeney, and some others. You and Fane will naturally be present, and I shall look to you to take care of everything,’ said Skerrett.
They assured him that they would do so, but when Harry asked whether he should lay in provisions for the banquet, Skerrett said No, he preferred to attend to that himself. ‘One can’t expect to fare very well in bivouac,’ he said, ‘but I daresay my cook can contrive a respectable dinner.’
Since he had the worst cook in the division, neither Harry nor Fane shared his optimism. Where were the supplies coming from? Where was the wine to be had? ‘Barnard, of all people!’ Harry chuckled. ‘He’s had a French cook ever since Salamanca, and oh, how he loves his dinner and a good bottle of wine! “Can’t expect to fare well in bivouac!” Why, doesn’t the old fool know that Colborne and Barnard are famous for their dinners? I’ll tell you what, Tom: we shall sit down to steak and black strap!’ ‘He must mean to provide something better than black strap!’ Tom said. He was right. When Harry called upon his Brigadier for orders, on the morning of the feast, he found him dressed for travel. ‘Where are you going, General?’ he asked. Skerrett, at first shocked by the free-and-easy ways of Light division officers, had become resigned to his Brigade-Major’s lack of ceremony, and replied that he was off to Lesaca. This could only mean that he was going in search of supplies, so Harry promptly told Fane that they had misjudged the fellow, and he was actually going to buy suitable provisions from the sutler at headquarters.
Fane’s rather simian countenance wrinkled in an effort of deductive reasoning, ‘Headquarters’ prices won’t do for Skerrett,’ he said. ‘I believe you’re wrong. It’ll be steak and fowls-tough.’