The Bravest of the Brave — or, with Peterborough in Spain, G. A. Henty [intellectual books to read .txt] 📗

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE *** Produced by Martin Robb, and David Widger

THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE OR, WITH PETERBOROUGH IN SPAIN

By G. A. Henty.

CONTENTS

PREFACE


CHAPTER I.   THE WAR OF THE SUCCESSION

CHAPTER II.   IMPRESSED

CHAPTER III.   A DOMESTIC STORM

CHAPTER IV.   THE SERGEANT'S YARN

CHAPTER V.   THE PIRATE HOLD

CHAPTER VI.   A COMMISSION

CHAPTER VII.   BARCELONA

CHAPTER VIII.   A TUMULT IN THE CITY

CHAPTER IX.   THE ADVANCE INTO VALENCIA

CHAPTER X.   AN ADVENTURE IN THE MOUNTAINS

CHAPTER XI.   VALENCIA

CHAPTER XII.   IRREGULAR WARFARE

CHAPTER XIII.   THE FRENCH CONVOY

CHAPTER XIV.   A PRISONER

CHAPTER XV.   THE RELIEF OF BARCELONA

CHAPTER XVI.   INGRATITUDE

CHAPTER XVII.     HOME

PREFACE

My Dear Lads:

There are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so completely fallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peterborough. His career as a general was a brief one, extending only over little more than a year, and yet in that time he showed a genius for warfare which has never been surpassed, and performed feats of daring worthy of taking their place among those of the leaders of chivalry.

The fact that they have made so slight a mark upon history is due to several reasons. In the first place, they were overshadowed by the glory and successes of Marlborough; they were performed in a cause which could scarcely be said to be that of England, and in which the public had a comparatively feeble interest; the object, too, for which he fought was frustrated, and the war was an unsuccessful one, although from no fault on his part.

But most of all, Lord Peterborough failed to attain that place in the list of British worthies to which his genius and his bravery should have raised him, because that genius was directed by no steady aim or purpose. Lord Peterborough is, indeed, one of the most striking instances in history of genius and talent wasted, and a life thrown away by want of fixed principle and by an inability or unwillingness to work with other men. He quarreled in turn with every party and with almost every individual with whom he came in contact; and while he himself was constantly changing his opinions, he was intolerant of all opinions differing from those which he at the moment held, and was always ready to express in the most open and offensive manner his contempt and dislike for those who differed from him. His eccentricities were great; he was haughty and arrogant, hasty and passionate; he denied his God, quarreled with his king, and rendered himself utterly obnoxious to every party in the state.

And yet there was a vast amount of good in this strange man. He was generous and warm hearted to a fault, kind to those in station beneath him, thoughtful and considerate for his troops, who adored him, cool in danger, sagacious in difficulties, and capable at need of evincing a patience and calmness wholly at variance with his ordinary impetuous character. Although he did not scruple to carry deception, in order to mislead an enemy, to a point vastly beyond what is generally considered admissible in war, he was true to his word and punctiliously honorable in the ordinary affairs of life.

For the historical events I have described, and for the details of Peterborough's conduct and character, I have relied chiefly upon the memoir of the earl written by Mr. C. Warburton, and published some thirty years ago.

CHAPTER I: THE WAR OF THE SUCCESSION

“He is an idle vagabond!” the mayor of the good town of Southampton said, in high wrath—“a ne'er do well, and an insolent puppy; and as to you, Mistress Alice, if I catch you exchanging words with him again, ay, or nodding to him, or looking as if in any way you were conscious of his presence, I will put you on bread and water, and will send you away for six months to the care of my sister Deborah, who will, I warrant me, bring you to your senses.”

The Mayor of Southampton must have been very angry indeed when he spoke in this way to his daughter Alice, who in most matters had her own way. Especially did it show that he was angry, since he so spoke in the presence of Mistress Anthony, his wife, who was accustomed to have a by no means unimportant share in any decision arrived at respecting family matters.

She was too wise a woman, however, to attempt to arrest the torrent in full flood, especially as it was a matter on which her husband had already shown a very unusual determination to have his own way. She therefore continued to work in silence, and paid no attention to the appealing glance which her daughter, a girl of fourteen, cast toward her. But although she said nothing, her husband understood in her silence an unuttered protest.

“It is no use your taking that scamp's part, Mary, in this matter. I am determined to have my own way, and the townspeople know well that when Richard Anthony makes up his mind, nothing will move him.”

“I have had no opportunity to take his part, Richard,” his wife said quietly; “you have been storming without interruption since you came in five minutes ago, and I have not uttered a single word.”

“But you agree with me, Mary—you cannot but agree with me—that it is nothing short of a scandal for the daughter of the Mayor of Southampton to be talking to a penniless young rogue like that at the garden gate.”

“Alice should not have met him there,” Mistress Anthony said; “but seeing that she is only fourteen years old, and the boy only sixteen, and he her second cousin, I do not see that the matter is so very shocking.”

“In four more years, Mistress Anthony,” the mayor said profoundly, “he will be twenty,