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.