Writing a week later, he again referred to the conduct of the troops on the Granby: "The soldiers on board the Granby transport were yesterday very rebellious, but unluckily we could not pick out any to make an example of. These fellows will never be orderly till they have had, each of them, a good flogging, which, I think, they stand a fair chance of having before they have been many days at Gibraltar. I am very confident that if we were not surrounded by men-of-war, and were to go to Gibraltar without a convoy, we should all be murdered."

The references to flogging in the two last letters must not be taken to imply that young Rice was shaping for a martinet in this early stage of his military career. In those days sentence of flogging was passed on a soldier for offences which nowadays would carry no higher punishment than a few days' detention; and, in reading descriptions of military and naval punishments of a century ago, one marvels at their positive brutality. It may be that we have finer feelings than our ancestors had, or our natures may have become softer, but whatever has brought about the change, the fact remains that accounts of what took place on an ordinary flogging parade in time of peace make one wonder how a civilised country like England could have permitted such barbarities. Men were sentenced to receive so many hundred lashes—even up to two thousand, on the bare back, with a cat-o'-nine-tails—and the mode of carrying the punishment into execution was as follows: The regiment having been drawn up in square facing inwards, and the "triangle," of solid spars,[5] having been erected in the centre of the square, the prisoner was marched in and ordered to strip to the waist. He was then secured by the wrists to the top of the triangle, and by the thighs and ankles to the side spars. At a given signal the drum-major and his drummers advanced, and were ordered by the commanding officer to "do their duty." The first drummer took off his coat, and delivered twenty-five lashes, when he was relieved by a second drummer, who delivered the same number, the drum-major standing by with a cane ready to strike the drummer if the lashes were not administered with sufficient strength. And these drummers were all trained to the work, by flogging the fleece off a sheep's skin, both with the right hand and with the left, so that alternate drummers should inflict the punishment from opposite sides of the triangle. Near at hand stood the adjutant and the surgeon, the former to register the number of lashes, and the latter to observe the victim and order him to be taken down if he thought that further punishment at the time would endanger his life. But there was no question of respite, for the number of lashes awarded had to be given, if not at one time, then at several times. Immediately the man was taken down, he was marched to hospital, and carefully attended to until his back had healed; then, if he still had more lashes to come, he was taken out again, and his back cut open afresh; and we have it on the authority of Sir Charles Napier, the Conqueror of Sind, that a man was often brought to the triangle a third and a fourth time to receive the remainder of his punishment.

We spare the reader further details of this barbarous work, and we have only said so much because it was necessary in order to show the spirit of the times, and in order to draw attention to some of the unpleasant duties of regimental officers.[6] It may be thought that corporal punishment was rarely inflicted, but official returns prove otherwise, and it is no exaggeration to say that, towards the end of the eighteenth century, a regiment on home service would parade round the triangle at least two or three times in a month. "In 1793," says Lord William Bentinck, "infliction by the cat-o'-nine-tails was the ordinary and general punishment for every offence, great and small, only varied as to the amount according to the different degrees of culpability, but always the lash; except in regard to the most trivial offences, corporal punishment was the echo in each and every one of the Articles of War."

It is not difficult to understand that, under such circumstances, recruits for the army were slow in coming forward. Moreover, the Government of the day neglected the soldier's comfort and welfare in every possible way, underfeeding him, underpaying him, and accommodating him in vile quarters. The majority of the recruits brought up for enlistment were produced by the "crimps," who resorted to every mean device in their prosperous business of catching men and selling them to Government, and one can scarcely wonder that such unwilling soldiers should have resented the harsh discipline to which they were immediately subjected. These were the men with whom young Rice first came into contact at Portsmouth—men, cooped up on board ship, without recreation of any kind, for weeks on end, and unable even to make a bid for freedom by desertion.

That there should have been a spirit of unrest on board the transports was not very strange, but the possibility of the disaffected troops murdering their officers was, of course, only wild talk on the part of a youthful subaltern. This, however, was not a very pleasant commencement to a young officer's service, but things seem to have settled down as time went on, and as more military officers joined the transports for duty. The only excitement was that provided by the arrival of a man-of-war, after a successful engagement. "I saw the Nymph," wrote Sam Rice on the 1st July, "as well as La Cléopatre, coming into the harbour. The latter had her mizzen-mast shot away, and was everywhere, I fancy, considerably damaged. I have not been on board either of them; in fact, the truth is, I have not been ashore since they came in. The brave sons of the Republic, I understand, fought with great courage, as did, as usual, the sons of Old England. The French captain was killed, or else, you may depend upon it, the engagement would have lasted till one of them had gone to the bottom. The Phaeton has taken a very fine French ship, named La Prompte. She only rates as a sloop in France, but is as big as any of our twenty-eights."

In the middle of July the officers on the transports saw a chance of sailing with the fleet under Lord Howe, but he had other business on hand, and went without them. Sam expressed his disgust at his lordship's conduct. "We thought that we were to sail under the protection of Lord Howe's fleet, but in that we were disappointed, for he sailed last Sunday evening without having the politeness to take us with him. When we shall now sail I know not; but the report is that it will be very soon and suddenly. It needs be so, for they have given us a fair spell of Portsmouth. I now know enough of a transport, which means that I will never go in one again, if I can get my passage in any other vessel. I almost agree with Dr Johnson that it is as well to enter a jail as a cabin.[7] We have had a bad fever on board our ship for some time. Two have died of it, and many more are ill at the hospital. I should not be surprised if we were all to take the fever, after being so long confined in these old rusty colliers, now in His Majesty's service for the purpose of transporting us to Gibraltar. We are to be joined by seven more transports, and Colonel Lindsay is to take the command of us all. He has sent us two thousand cartridges on board, and orders how we are to act in case of attack by the enemy. If one of us should be separated from our convoy, and see a Frenchman, we are to run immediately, and our men to be ordered to go betwixt decks. But, if the Frenchman sails better than us, and comes alongside, we are, with all our padding, to board, and play hell and the devil among them—that is to say, if possible. There has been a great change among the officers from ship to ship. I am the only one left upon this ship, and consequently am officer commandant, till a Captain Alcock, who is appointed here, comes on board. He has got a wife, whom he intends to take to Gibraltar with him. I'd just as soon have the devil on board as a woman; not that I have any natural antipathy to women, but I assure you they are a great nuisance, especially in such a confined place as a cabin. You might perhaps think a lady a wonderful acquisition to a sea party, but I am very certain, if you had ever been on a voyage with a woman you would never desire it again."

Within the month he changed his mind about the lady, and on August 13 he imagined that he was within measurable distance of the end of all his troubles. "I have just time to tell you," he scribbled in haste, "that we have received our orders for sailing. Our convoy fired a gun and hoisted a signal to get under weigh immediately. I do not suppose we shall go farther than St Helens to-day. I came ashore this morning at six o'clock to take leave of Old England, and to bring on board Captain and Mrs Alcock. We have the Diadem, sixty-four, and the Active, frigate, for our convoy." Five days later he wrote again from St Helens, Isle of Wight, still jubilant at the thought that at last he had made a start for Gibraltar, though disappointed in being kept back by adverse winds. His letter shows how the vagaries of the wind upset all calculations in the days of sailing vessels, and he wrote as follows:—

The fleet got away from St Helens on the 22nd August, but was overtaken by another gale, and had to run for Portland Bay, where the ships were forced to shelter until the 8th September. By that time the bay had become filled with ships bound for various parts of the world, the West India fleet of transports amongst them, and at length the wind showed signs of being favourable for departure. Yet, as Sam Rice's next letter shows, luck was all against them, and a few days later the ships turned about and anchored in Torbay.

Writing from Torbay on the 17th September he describes what had happened—

Eventually, after having put back no less than nine times altogether, the transports succeeded in getting away, and reached Gibraltar in November, when Ensign Rice and his two hundred recruits joined the 51st. He found war the one topic of conversation, and the prospects of the regiment proceeding on active service being freely discussed. He learned now the true story of Toulon, which, although actually in the occupation of a British and allied force, had not been "taken with a great deal of shipping," but had been peacefully garrisoned at the request of the Royalist (or Girondist) inhabitants. Admiral Hood, who had brought his fleet to the Mediterranean, was cruising up the coast from Gibraltar, when he received a message from the Royalist Admiral at Toulon, asking him to co-operate in the defence of that place against the Republicans (or Jacobins), and to hold it until the monarchy should be restored. Hood agreed, and on the 27th August, troops having been sent from Gibraltar, and a Spanish squadron having joined the British fleet, the Admiral took possession of the forts and the many men-of-war in the harbour—amounting to not less than one-third of the navy of France. He at once dismantled the ships, and removed such of the sailors as were known to favour the Republican cause, and he then sought assistance from the Spanish, Neapolitan, and neighbouring Allies who, in the course of time, sent him some 12,000 men. This mixed force, with 2000 British troops under General O'Hara, essayed to protect Toulon from the ravages of the Republicans, who soon arrived—to the number of 25,000—to besiege the place, and by November became so active that General O'Hara sent to Gibraltar for reinforcements.

The 50th and the 51st, which, for some weeks, had been standing ready to go to the relief of the garrison of Toulon, at once embarked (December 5), and young Rice considered himself in luck's way in being called upon to take the field so soon after joining. Ill-fortune, however, still dogged his footsteps, for the captains of the transports delayed for three days in putting to sea, thus losing a fair wind, so that it was not until the 29th that the regiment arrived off Toulon, when it learned that the place had been evacuated in haste ten days before, the garrison having made an unsuccessful sally, in which General O'Hara was severely wounded and captured. Finding that the garrison was now too weak to hold the town against the vastly superior numbers of the Republican forces, Lord Hood set fire to as many as possible of the French ships in the harbour, blew up powder and stores, successfully embarked the British garrison, as well as nearly 15,000 Royalists, who feared for their safety when the Republicans should enter the town, and sailed for Hyères Bay[10] (a little to the east of Toulon), where, on the 31st December, the transports conveying the 50th and 51st joined the fleet—to be received very coldly by the Admiral.

But Lord Hood's disappointment at the lateness of their arrival was no greater than that of the officers of the reinforcing regiments. That Toulon should have been abandoned, and that their prospects of honour and glory should have been torn from them by no fault of their own was bad enough, but, to make matters worse, the 51st lost all their regimental baggage and stores, including everything belonging to the officers, which had been placed on a separate vessel for conveyance to Toulon. Sam Rice, a philosopher even in those days, refers to this minor trouble very briefly. "The officers' and the regimental baggage," he wrote, "went into Toulon in the Moselle frigate,[11] which separated from the transports during the night and did not know that the town was evacuated, because the English flag was kept flying. You see we military gentlemen are subject to losses as well as the rest of the world." And the loss both to officers and the men was severe, for their colonel had been at great pains to stock the ship with everything that the regiment could want.

CHAPTER III.
THE ATTACK ON CORSICA.

When Sam Rice joined the 51st, Lieut.-Colonel (afterwards Sir John) Moore had held the command for three years, but was even then only in his thirty-second year; for his promotion had been rapid, and he had reached the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the thirteenth year of his service. That Moore was a strong man goes without saying, and that he was a man of very exceptional talents the world discovered subsequently. A perfect gentleman, of unblemished character, a reliable and zealous soldier, he was able to bring a great influence to bear on those whom he commanded, and he had a special gift for training young officers. It was in this respect that Sam Rice benefited by being appointed to a regiment with such a commanding officer, and he learned under Moore things which he never forgot. At that time the condition of a regiment depended entirely upon the commanding officer, for in the last decade of the eighteenth century the British army was not in a very satisfactory state. Sir Henry Bunbury,[12] who made a study of such matters, wrote sixty years afterwards: "Men of the present generation can hardly form an idea of what the military forces of England really were when the great war broke out in 1793. Our army was lax in its discipline, entirely without system, and very weak in numbers. Each colonel of a regiment managed it according to his own notions, or neglected it altogether. There was no uniformity of drill or movement, professional pride was rare, professional knowledge still more so. The regimental officers in those days were, as well as their men, hard drinkers; and the latter, under a loose discipline, were much addicted to marauding and acts of licentious violence, which made them detested by the people of the country."

It is perhaps unjust to describe the officers as hard drinkers, if by that is meant that they were all drunkards, or that they drank harder than did their civilian friends and relatives. The morals of the army were possibly no worse than the morals of general society at that period, for it was an age of heavy drinking, when respectable and respected old gentlemen drank themselves under the table every evening, and boasted of the number of bottles of port which they could consume at a sitting. Yet, if the opinions of Bunbury and other writers holding somewhat similar views of the British army in pre-Peninsular times are to be accepted, it cannot be maintained that the tone among the officers of ordinary regiments of the line was of a high order. Some certainly drank a great deal more than was good for them; otherwise it would hardly have been necessary to put in print in the standing orders of a certain regiment the caution that "the Surgeon and his Mate must always be strictly sober." Gambling was indulged in to an inordinate extent; and duelling was not unknown. The fact is that the army was suffering from long years of inaction, and from the pernicious effects of service in America, India, and the West Indies, where regiments went to pieces and took years to recover themselves. To this must be added the further fact that the regimental officer was promoted not by merit, but by purchase; so that it was only necessary for a man to bide his time, and to have sufficient money at his back to buy his steps when they came, and in due course he commanded his regiment, and continued to command it until he could be bought out.

But, it may be asked, if such was indeed the state of affairs, how came it that the British army rapidly emerged from this condition of darkness to save Europe? How came it that the hard-drinking British officer was able to pull himself together, and become transformed into an upright and zealous soldier, capable of enduring endless hardships and displaying great gallantry? The answer is that all regiments were not bad; that most regiments—even the bad ones—possessed some officers of high moral character and endowed with exceptional talents, and when war came in 1793 these officers, on the principle of the "survival of the fittest," came to the front, and gradually established a tone on active service which had been impossible to uphold in times of peace. Some regiments possessed more of such officers than others, and some regiments, again, chanced to have a colonel with sufficient strength of will to give a short shrift to any of his subordinates who were not likely to be of value to him. As the war progressed many of the junior, and not a few of the senior, officers willingly or unwillingly fell out, to make room for better men; many were found wanting and were removed; and many had undermined their constitutions to such an extent that in their first campaign they were carried off by what was commonly described as "the fever," or the "distemper." While the weeding-out process was at work during the last few years of the eighteenth century, and during the opening years of the nineteenth, the annual wastage of officers was immense; after that, matters righted themselves.

Still, it is an error to suppose that the whole army was in so bad a state in 1793 as Bunbury would have us believe, for there are still in existence the printed standing orders of a few regiments of the line of about this date, and from these there is proof enough that very great attention was paid to the wellbeing of corps. The discipline was strict, though of the severe and mechanical order, and it was maintained solely by the lash; duties in quarters were performed with the utmost regularity; and if the standing orders were carried out, the regiments should have been in excellent order. It may, of course, be possible that such regiments as had standing orders were, from this very fact, good regiments, and that the strictures of Bunbury and others applied to the bad regiments, which were, perhaps, more numerous than the good ones.

It is, however, quite certain that when the 51st regiment went on service in 1793, its general condition left nothing to be desired, since Moore had paid attention to such weeding-out of officers as was necessary when he first took up the command in 1790, and all young officers who joined afterwards were kept under his ever-watchful eye until he was sure of them. "He felt that a perfect knowledge and an exact performance of the humble, but important duties of a subaltern officer, are the best foundations for subsequent military fame";[13] and he required from his officers a punctilious attention to duty and a thorough knowledge of their profession, so that they might be looked up to and respected by the soldiers whom they were called upon to command. And, a perfect gentleman himself, he had no place in the 51st for any officer who was not the same. He was not a martinet, and he did not ride rough-shod over his officers and men, but he knew exactly when the occasion demanded a right enforcement of discipline, and when discipline could be relaxed without detriment to the "machine," which he proudly described, in September 1793, as being in as good order as he could get it.

So much has been said here of Colonel Moore's characteristics,[14] because he was Sam Rice's first commanding officer, and because his teachings left their mark upon the man who served continuously with Moore's old regiment for thirty-eight years. To return to affairs in the Mediterranean: Colonel Moore, as senior officer with the reinforcements which joined Lord Hood's fleet in Hyères Bay, immediately went on board the Victory, and reported his arrival to the Admiral, who somewhat churlishly remarked that the reinforcements were meagre and had arrived too late to be of any use. He forgot that the delay was due to dilatoriness on the part of his own naval officers, and he forgot also that had the reinforcements arrived a fortnight earlier, they could not have prevented the evacuation of Toulon, since, on the 16th December, the enemy had captured the forts which dominated the anchorage of the British fleet.

The Admiral was now busily engaged in working out a plan for employing the troops on the transports in some enterprise which, while redounding to his own credit, would compensate in a measure for the abandonment of the great French arsenal; for he was aware that the evacuation of Toulon without destroying all the French ships, although the only step that, under the circumstances, was possible, might be regarded in England as a grave failure on his part. Something, he decided, must be done at once, and that something must take the form of providing for the British fleet in the Mediterranean a base deeper in than that afforded by Gibraltar, which was at that time the only British possession in the Mediterranean, and almost a thousand miles from Genoa, in the neighbourhood of which port the French and Austrian armies were operating. Lord Hood realised from the outset the broad principle that, as Captain Mahan[15] says, "the policy of Great Britain was to control the sea for the protection of commerce, and to sustain on shore the continental powers in the war against France—chiefly by money, but also by naval co-operation when feasible." Under these circumstances, the Admiral's thoughts naturally turned to Corsica, which, though still garrisoned by French troops, was known to be more or less in revolt against the Republican Government. The exact state of affairs in the island, however, and the strength of the French defences and garrisons, were things about which Lord Hood had little information; and though he regretted the necessity for delaying the capture of Corsica, he wisely accepted, on this occasion, the advice of the military commanders to send two military officers to reconnoitre and report on the practicability of making a descent on the island. Moore and a major of artillery named Koehler were selected for this duty, and on the 11th January (1794) left in the Lowestoffe frigate, in which also sailed Sir Gilbert Elliott, one of the King's Commissioners in the Mediterranean, who was to endeavour to persuade the Corsican inhabitants to assist the British force in ridding the island of the French interlopers.

It is unnecessary to dwell on Corsican history further than to say that from 1559 to 1768 the island was a dependency of Genoa, and that in the latter year, contrary to the wishes of the people, was basely sold to France. The Corsicans then made a bid for independence, but within a few months (1769) their army, under Pascal (or Pasquale) Paoli, was defeated and crushed by the Count de Vaux. It was with this Paoli, who, after a period of exile in England, had returned to Corsica, that Sir Gilbert Elliott opened up negotiations, and from him, without much difficulty, obtained the promise that the Corsicans would aid the British in every possible way. Moore and his companion made a careful reconnaissance of the various French posts and forts, and on the 25th January the former returned to the Admiral with his report. The fleet was then on its way from Hyères Bay to the island of Elba, and in a few days anchored off Porto Ferrajo, where it was proposed to disembark the Royalist refugees from Toulon and place them under the protection of Tuscany (to whom Elba belonged), while arrangements were being made for the leap on Corsica.

The story of the operations which followed, as told by the chroniclers, is somewhat marred in the telling by constant references to the bickerings and petty jealousies of the naval and military commanders, each of whom appears to have been afraid that the rival service would obtain all the kudos. Why, the reader may wonder, is it necessary to hark back to these regrettable incidents, which did not greatly affect the result of the operations? Only because at one time they threatened to destroy the reputation of John Moore, Colonel of the 51st, and did actually lead to his temporary downfall. Lord Hood, strongly backed up by Horatio Nelson, then captain of the Agamemnon, despised soldiers, and thought little of the opinions of military officers. The naval plan was to rush at everything, without weighing the consequences, and the suggestions of the General, David Dundas (who had succeeded O'Hara), and other military officers of experience, who counselled proceeding with caution, were blown away, as showing weakness and want of enterprise. Nelson himself said, "Armies go so slow, that seamen think they never mean to get forward; but I daresay they act on a surer principle, though we seldom fail." Nelson was, of course, in a measure right, but he and other naval officers of the period failed to realise the great difference between the facilities afforded to the respective services—that whereas seamen always had at their back their ship, providing them with quarters, food, ammunition, and everything that they required; soldiers, when once put ashore on an expedition, had to take everything with them and look after themselves.

The three principal places in Corsica held by the French were St Fiorenzo (now St Florent) on the north, Bastia on the east, and Calvi on the west; and in that order Lord Hood decided to attack each place in succession. St Fiorenzo, the first to be dealt with, was situated at the head of a deep bay, studded on the western shore with detached forts, or towers, which, being constructed of solid masonry in a circular form, deflected the round-shots which struck them. The most formidable of these advanced works was the tower of Mortella,[16] and it was impossible to attack St Fiorenzo until these outworks had been carried. With the object, therefore, of reducing the Mortella Tower, Moore was ordered to land at a little distance away, and with the 51st (numbering 350) and a mixed force of soldiers and sailors (numbering another 350), and with two guns, to march inland and take the tower in rear, while the ships bombarded it from the sea. Moore's force landed on the night of the 7th February, and after a long march among the mountains reached, on the following evening, a point from which the enemy's fortifications could be clearly examined. Moore, who had reconnoitred them on his previous visit, was surprised to find that the French had strengthened their position considerably, and he came to the conclusion that his handful of men was quite insufficient to assail all the fortifications in front of St Fiorenzo. He therefore sent a despatch to General Dundas, and reported that to attack with any prospect of success would require all the General's available troops.

That day was spent in getting the guns into position and in a further reconnaissance, while two ships bombarded the Mortella redoubt, though without breaching it. The ships, moreover, were set on fire by the enemy's hot shot, and were forced to sheer off, with a loss of some sixty men. On the next day more guns were mounted on land, but although they did little damage to the solid tower, their fire made it impossible for the enemy to show himself or reply, and the French officer in command, seeing that he could no nothing, surrendered. The next outwork to be disposed of was the Convention redoubt, and this gave a good deal of trouble. Moore, who was still conducting operations on land, inspected the ground with General Dundas and Major Koehler, and discovered an excellent artillery position, from which it would be possible to batter the Convention. The difficulty was to get the guns up the steep, rocky hill, but, with the aid of a party of seamen with tackle, two 18-pounders and a howitzer were mounted within the next few days, and a mortar and some other guns were placed on a more accessible position, when the enemy's redoubt was subjected to a heavy cannonade for two days. Moore had now with him only the 51st, but on the 17th February the General gave him orders for the assault that night. The Royals were to join the 51st, and Moore was to assail the front of the redoubt, while the other British regiments and the Corsicans were to deliver simultaneous assaults on either flank.

Moore decided to attack in column of companies, the first company consisting of the grenadiers and light infantry[17] of the Royals, the second of the grenadiers of the 51st, the third of the light company of the 51st, then the battalion of the Royals (only sufficient to make five companies), then three companies of the 51st. The other five companies of the 51st followed in rear as a support; and in rear again came 130 sailors, under Captain Cooke, with entrenching tools.

At 8.30 P.M., by the light of a brilliant moon, Moore led the advance, which for a quarter of a mile could only be made in file. After a little he reached a spot open enough to form up the column; the enemy's piquets fired a few shots, as they realised what was taking place; and Moore immediately ordered his column to push on. When within fifty yards of the redoubt, they found themselves in a slight hollow, unexposed to the enemy's fire, and here Moore halted them for a few seconds preparatory to the final uphill rush. A moment later the Royals and the 51st leaped into the head of the work, and crossed bayonets with the Frenchmen, who stood their ground gallantly and fought with desperation. Eventually, however, the flank attacks pushed in and overwhelmed the defenders, though in the darkness it was difficult to distinguish friend from foe, and, to add to the confusion, the enemy holding the neighbouring redoubt of Fornali began to open with grape-shot upon the victorious British. But before midnight the latter had entrenched themselves, and within an hour it was learned that the French had abandoned Fornali.

Arrangements were now made for the attack on St Fiorenzo itself, but before they had been completed the enemy withdrew from the place and retired to the fortified town of Bastia, situated on the east coast of Corsica, and barely ten miles across the neck of the peninsula from St Fiorenzo.

The coast near Bastia was quite open, and the town was not fortified on that side; elsewhere, however, it was defended by four detached redoubts and a citadel placed on heights at a little distance inland. On February 23, Moore and General Dundas went across the mountains to reconnoitre the enemy's position, and on the following day the 51st and 69th advanced to within a mile and a quarter of the French piquets, who were heard throughout the night digging entrenchments for their further security on the ground which it was necessary for the British to occupy in order to capture Bastia from the land side. Becoming aware of this, General Dundas, in the morning, ordered Moore to withdraw his force, and, to the surprise and disappointment of every one, the withdrawal took place. Moore at first imagined that the General's idea was to perfect arrangements before delivering the assault, but after a while he discovered that, in spite of Lord Hood's constant request for co-operation from the land forces, General Dundas had refused to attempt the capture of the town with the small force under his command. This was a bitter discovery for Moore, who was longing to lead his regiment to the front, but he concealed his disappointment, as he considered that it would be "a species of mutiny for a subordinate officer to pass any opinion" on the action of his General.

Lord Hood, never on good terms with General Dundas, now brought matters to a head by sending a somewhat extraordinary letter, in which he said that upon the evacuation of Toulon the General's command had practically ended, and that he (Lord Hood) was in supreme command of both the fleet and the army. The General replied with calmness that, unless the Admiral could produce his commission from the King, neither he nor his officers would acknowledge his pretensions to the command of the land forces. But Lord Hood's letter probably had the result which he desired, for on the following day General Dundas, on the grounds of ill health, gave up the command, and having appointed the next senior officer, Colonel D'Aubant, a brigadier-general, and given him the temporary command of the army, left for England on the 11th March. D'Aubant proved himself a useless commander, and being averse to an assault on Bastia, threw cold water on every plan laid before him. In vain did Lord Hood urge the necessity for an attempt being made by the land forces; and, after holding several councils of war, he at length declared that he would take Bastia with the marines[18] and sailors. Already a month had been wasted in looking at the place—a month which gave the enemy leisure to perfect his fortifications and entrenchments. Almost another month passed before Bastia fell; and its fall was brought about not by assault or bombardment, but by starvation, resulting from Lord Hood's careful blockade from the sea and the Corsicans' watchfulness on land. There had been practically no fighting, and though Hood and Nelson dignified the operations with the name of siege, the army was never in position, and all that was undertaken by the ships was the maintenance of a strict blockade, and the landing of some guns and a fighting force under Nelson. The guns did little damage to the enemy or his works, thus wasting much valuable ammunition, and the force commanded by Nelson (consisting of 1183 soldiers acting as marines on board ship and 250 sailors) made no advance. On the 19th May Bastia was starved into surrender, and the 3500 men of the garrison gave up their arms to the British combined forces, which numbered no more than 3000 soldiers and sailors.

Attention was now directed to Calvi (on the west coast of Corsica), the only place of importance remaining in the possession of the French. It was known that they had been busy for some time victualling the place for a siege, and Lord Hood determined to operate before the garrison of Calvi could be further reinforced. Brigadier-General D'Aubant had gone home, on being relieved by General Charles Stuart, who had been sent out from England to succeed General Dundas, an appointment which met with the approval of every one and which gave confidence to the troops. The regiments in Corsica, though seven in number, were miserably weak, as they were required to furnish detachments for duty as marines on board the ships, and the climate had begun to tell on the health of the men. General Stuart's "army," available for operations against Calvi, consisted, therefore, of no more than 2300 men. These troops were conveyed in transports from Bastia to Mortella Bay, and, on the 19th June, after a further voyage, disembarked a few miles from Calvi, and marched inland to a camp on the high ground some three miles from the fortress. Colonel Moore was given the command of a special "corps of reserve," consisting of the "flank companies of the Royal Irish, 50th, and 51st, and the remains of the 2nd Battalion of the Royals," so the command of the 51st devolved, for the time being, on Major Pringle. Two outworks of considerable strength lay in front, i.e., on the land side, of Calvi—viz., the Fort of Mozzello and the fortified rock of Monteciesco. Batteries were immediately thrown up on commanding heights, about 500 yards from these outworks, and on the 7th July the enemy evacuated Monteciesco. The guns now turned on Mozzello, and for ten days endeavoured to make a practicable breach, the assailants suffering the whole time from the fire from Calvi itself and from some minor outworks, and Captain Nelson, who was present, unfortunately losing an eye, from splinters of stone being flung into his face by a round-shot striking the ground in front of him.

Before daylight on the morning of the 19th July, a breach having been effected in the walls of the Mozzello redoubt, the troops moved forward to the assault. Colonel Moore led the stormers, some of whom carried sandbags, and others ladders. Shot, hand-grenades, and live shells were hurtled down upon them by the defenders, but, nothing daunted, the grenadiers charged forward, and plying their bayonets with vigour, drove the Frenchmen out of the redoubt. In this desperate encounter Moore was wounded in the head by a splinter of a shell, but though knocked senseless for a moment, he continued to lead his men until he made certain that the place had been secured, and that entrenchments had been thrown up to cover the troops from the fire of the enemy's guns in Calvi.

With the capture of the Mozzello redoubt, however, the enemy's resistance virtually came to an end, and his guns ceased to fire. Yet the Frenchmen refused to capitulate, and the British prosecuted the siege with vigour, pushing forward new batteries and mounting upwards of thirty pieces of ordnance. Moore wrote at the time: "The men and officers fall ill daily; considerably more than a third of our force are in the sick report; perhaps there never was so much work done by so few men in the same space of time."[19] By the 30th July the enemy began to consider the matter of terms, as Calvi had been set on fire in two or three places, and the British guns were doing much damage. After this General Stuart stopped all firing, while he entered into negotiations with General Casabianca; and on the 10th August Calvi surrendered, the defenders laying down their arms and forthwith embarking on transports.

Young Rice, as a very junior subaltern in the 51st, of course had no opportunity of distinguishing himself in these operations, and he does not appear to have been much impressed by his first campaign. On the 2nd August 1794 he wrote to his father from "Camp before Calvi," as follows:—