CHAPTER XIX.
THE SACK OF ST. SOLIDORE.
Like all who are so subordinate in rank, we fell in and formed, in total ignorance of where we were going, or what we were to do; who we were to attack, or by whom we might be attacked; and, perhaps, not caring much about the matter, provided we were to do something.
In the dusk the roll was called; the troop "proved" and formed in column with the other light troops under Elliot, the future "Cock of the Rock." We loaded our carbines and pistols, and then the order was given—
"Threes right—forward—trot!" and away we went.
Though we had been imbibing only French wine, we three comrades were not in a very reputable condition; but, fortunately, this could not be perceived in the twilight; though Charters was unusually lively, and my skill was frequently tested, as I was generally the flanker of a squadron, being completely master of my horse.
In the leading section of three, there was a gigantic trooper before us, named Hob Elliot.
"By Jove, Hob, what a noble pair of shoulders you have!" said Charters, as we trotted on; "what a mark your back will be for our friends the French!"
"If they ever see it," growled the Borderer, for he was a Liddesdale man.
"Bravo, Gauntlet," hiccupped Charters, then turning to me; "head up, and thumb on the bridle—you have quite the air of a soldier!"
"I always study to be what I wish to seem," said I.
"So said Socrates," added Tom Kirkton, remembering his classics.
"Ugh! he quotes Socrates on the line of march."
"Well," rejoined Tom; "he was a private soldier like ourselves, and saved the life of Xenophon."
"Be silent, my lads," said Captain Lindsay; "we have work in hand that requires you to be so."
As we quitted our bivouac, I was more than ever struck with its picturesque aspect. Some regiments of infantry (among them the 8th, 20th, and 25th), which had not yet been ordered under arms, were lying around their watchfires in a green clover field. These fires could not have been less than ninety or a hundred in number, and their united glare fell redly on the sunburned faces and scarlet uniforms of the scattered groups who sat around them; on the lines of those who lay asleep with their knapsacks for pillows; on the long rows of muskets, piled with bayonets fixed, and on the silk colours, that drooped before the guarded tent of each commanding officer.
Beyond these were the dark figures of the active artillery, limbering up, tracing their horses to the field guns, and preparing for immediate service; and as fresh fuel was cast on those watchfires, and the weird light flared up anew, it brought out in strong relief objects at a greater distance; trees and rocks were visible for a time, and then, as the flame wavered and sunk, they faded into obscurity. Add to all this, that the night was intensely dark, and the atmosphere dense and sulphury.
Nor moon nor star were visible; the wind was still, and the flames of the crackling watchfires burned steadily and high.
"Where are we going—what are we to be about?" we now inquired of each other as we rode on; and ere long, from mouth to mouth, as the staff officers, perhaps, unwisely informed those commanding troops, and these, in turn their subs, we learned that the Duke of Marlborough had, during the day, reconnoitred the harbour and suburbs of St. Malo, with the shipping and government stores, and had resolved on their destruction; so we were now to cover the advance of a body of infantry and artillery who were to perform this duty, with shot, shell, and hand grenades.
While advancing, I overheard Captain Lindsay say to Cornet Keith of ours—
"Marlborough has heard that the youngest and favourite daughter of the Marshal de Broglie, who now commands in Germany, resides in a chateau near St. Malo; and he thinks she would prove an important capture."
"Nay—pshaw—zounds, gallantry forbid!" responded the cornet, who was carrying the standard.
"I heard him say he would give a hundred and fifty guineas for her," continued Lindsay.
"For what purpose?" asked Keith, laughing.
"To send to London as a trophy, like the brass guns we hope to take at Cherbourg."
"A sorry capture, unless the girl is beautiful."
After proceeding about half a mile, our troop was ordered to press forward to the front, while the others reined up; then, as the artillery halted, and the deep hollow rumbling of the wheels and shot-laden tumbrils ceased, we could hear the flowing tide chafing in the dark on the bluff rocks of St. Malo, and, ere long, we saw the red lights that twinkled in its streets and fortress which towered above the ocean.
Girt as it was by deep waves and lofty walls, "the city of the corsairs," as some one names it, was secure from us then; so we rode on till we reached an open space, when the order came to form line on the leading section, and then the whizz, whizz, whizzing of balls, together with the rapid flashing of carbines in front, announced that the foe was before us.
My temples throbbed; there was a wild glow in my heart, and then an emotion of terror, as a bullet struck me fairly in the centre of the breast, above my pouch belt. For an instant I thought it was through me, and breathlessly dropped my reins; then, instinctively, I placed my hand within my coat, and expecting to find it covered with blood, drew forth—what? Aurora's handkerchief. It had saved me from the ball, which pierced my coat, though half spent.
I pressed it to my parched lips in gratitude; and perfume was lingering about it still. I had scarcely replaced it and recovered my equanimity, when I heard the clear, firm voice of Captain Lindsay, as he rode to the front, with young Keith by his side, carrying the standard advanced.
"Cavalry are before us, and we must clear the way. March—trot! keep your horses well in hand—press on by leg and spur!"
We advanced, with drawn swords, the troop riding on, boot to boot, and thigh to thigh—moving like a living wall. Then rapidly followed the words—
"Gallop—charge!" mingling with the sharp blast of the trumpet, and totally ignorant of what was amid the darkness in our front, whether a column of cavalry, a yawning chasm, or a stone rampart, we rushed blindly and furiously on with a loud and ringing cheer.
We charged with tremendous force, and in the heat, hurry, and confusion of such a moment, performed at racing speed, I sat in my saddle and guided my horse with a combined coolness and steadiness that certainly resulted from mere instinct or force of habit, rather than reason. I felt as in a dream, till suddenly, out of the darkness in front, there came before me a line of horses' heads, with another line of human faces, and uplifted swords above them. Then there was a wild crash, as if the earth had opened, when horse and man went tumbling under us, as we swept over the enemy, cutting and treading them down.
"Tuè! Tuè!" cried they; "St. Malo for Brittany!" But their provincial patron availed them not.
They proved to be a mere handful of hussars, led by the Chevalier de Boisguiller, who was nearly killed by the sword of Charters; but escaped by having an iron calotte cap within his fur cap. We lost only three men in this charge; but found nine of the enemy lying dead on the ground next day.
In vain the Chevalier, an officer of the most romantic courage, endeavoured to rally his men.
"En avant, mes camarades—Mes enfans, en avant!" we heard him shout, while brandishing his sabre; "Voilà—voilà, c'est la voye à l'honneur, à la gloire, à la victoire! Vive le Roi!"
As they fled there was no pursuit, for the trumpet sounded to recal stragglers.
Then we reformed line and wheeled back, to permit the infantry and artillery to pass to the front. After this, our orders were simply to guard and patrol the approaches to St. Solidore, against which our comrades on foot commenced the most active operations.
I have no intention of detailing the whole of these, nor could I do so, perhaps, if willing; but never shall I forget the splendour of the terrible scene which ensued, when the fires of destruction spread along the suburbs of St. Solidore and St. Servand, and all around the harbour of St. Malo.
Through the dark sky we saw the shells fired by our artillery describing long arcs of light, and bursting like fiery stars or flaming comets among the rigging of the ships in the basin, or on the roofs of the stores and houses on the quay. Then the shrieks and cries of the fugitive people came towards us through the still night air, together with the incessant explosion of the hand grenades, which our grenadiers, as they advanced alongside the ships, threw point blank on their decks, and down the open hatchways.
The most deadly missiles were the anchor balls, fired by our artillery.
These were filled with powder, saltpetre, sulphur, resin, and turpentine, and had an iron bar, one half of which was within and the other outside the shell. The latter half was armed with a grappling-hook, which caught the rigging of the ships, or the walls or roofs of houses, as the heaviest end flew foremost, and by these chiefly the whole place was soon sheeted with flaming pyramids, amid which we saw walls crumbling and descending, and masts and yards disappearing amid mountains of sparks and burning brands, while torrents of red fire poured from every door and window round the whole circle of the harbour.
The sky was full of red clouds and sheets of red sparks; the harbour and the bay beyond were all ruddied, as if changed to port wine, and the whole air became filled with roaring flame.
High over all this towered St. Malo on its rock, and on its embattled walls, its gothic spires and storm-beaten cliffs, redly fell the glare of destruction; while at times we heard the barking of the watch dogs, and could see the gleam of arms along the ramparts, for every citizen was in harness, and from mouth to mouth went the cry.
"St. Malo for Brittany! the women to their homes, and the men to their muskets!"
But, though they knew it not, we had no idea then of assailing a place so strong by art and nature.
The naval storehouses, full of sails, ropes, tar, pitch, oil, paint and powder, blazed the whole night, exhibiting every variety of prismatic colours, but ere morning, ships, houses, and magazines were all confounded in one mass of charred and blackened ashes.
We destroyed in the docks and in the harbour thirteen vessels of war, mounting two hundred and thirty-four guns, with seventy-three merchant ships, and £800,000 worth of property, after which we retired with the loss of only twelve men, three of whom were seamen, killed by a single random shot from St. Malo.
During this wild scene, there was something singular, almost touching, in the terror of the poor birds, when the air became alive with soaring and bursting shells, with showers of shot, thick with smoke, laden with the booming of the ordnance and the ceaseless roar of the conflagration.
Crows, larks, pigeons, and sparrows seemed to become paralysed by fear; they fluttered, panted, and grovelled among the long grass and under the hedgerows, in some instances crouching and hiding themselves in little coveys close to the dead and wounded Hussars (who lay where we had charged), as if to rebuke the spirit in man that made of earth a hell!
And so thought I, when weary, wan, and pale, I retired with the troop towards our camp on the hills of Paramé.