Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2. Lever Charles James
the fortress.
“How heavy the ground is here!” whispered Hampden, as our horses sunk above the fetlocks. “We had better stretch away to the right; the rise of the hill will favor us.”
“Hark!” said I; “did you not hear something? Pull up, – silence now. Yes, there they come. It’s a patrol; I hear their tramp.” As I spoke, the measured tread of infantry was heard above the storm, and soon after a lantern was seen coming along the causeway near us. The column passed within a few yards of where we stood. I could even recognize the black covering of the shakos as the light fell on them. “Let us follow them,” whispered I; and the next moment we fell in upon their track, holding our cattle well in hand, and ready to start at a moment.
“Qui va là?” a sentry demanded.
“La deuxième division,” cried a hoarse voice.
“Halte là! la consigne?”
“Wagram!” repeated the same voice as before, while his party resumed their march; and the next moment the patrol was again upon his post, silent and motionless as before.
“En avant, Messieurs!” said I, aloud, as soon as the infantry had proceeded some distance, – “en avant!”
“Qui va là?” demanded the sentry, as we came along at a sharp trot.
“L’état-major, Wagram!” responded I, pressing on without drawing rein; and in a moment we had regained our former position behind the infantry. We had scarcely time to congratulate ourselves upon the success of our scheme, when a tremendous clattering noise in front, mingled with the galloping of horses and the cracking of whips, announced the approach of the artillery as they came along by a narrow road which bisected our path; and as they passed between us and the column, we could hear the muttered sentences of the drivers, cursing the unseasonable time for an attack, and swearing at their cattle in no measured tones.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Hampden; “the battery is about to be directed against the San Benito, which must be far away to the left. I heard one of the troop saying that they were to open their fire at daybreak.”
“All right, now,” said I; “look there!”
From the hill we now stood upon a range of lanterns was distinctly visible, stretching away for nearly half a mile.
“There are the trenches; they must be at work, too. See how the lights are moving from place to place! Straight now. Forward!”
So saying, I pressed my horse boldly on.
We had not proceeded many minutes when the sounds of galloping were heard coming along behind us.
“To the right, in the hollow,” cried I. “Be still.”
Scarcely had we moved off when several horsemen galloped up, and drawing their reins to breathe their horses up the hill, we could hear their voices as they conversed together.
In the few broken words we could catch, we guessed that the attack upon San Benito was only a feint to induce Crawfurd to hold his position, while the French, marching upon his flank and front, were to attack him with overwhelming masses and crush him.
“You hear what’s in store for us, O’Malley?” whispered Hampden. “I think we could not possibly do better than hasten back with the intelligence.”
“We must not forget what we came for, first,” said I; and the next moment we were following the horsemen, who from their helmets seemed to be horse-artillery officers.
The pace our guides rode at showed us that they knew their ground. We passed several sentries, muttering something at each time, and seeming as if only anxious to keep up with our party.
“They’ve halted,” said I. “Now to the left there; gently here, for we must be in the midst of their lines. Ha! I knew we were right. See there!”
Before us, now, at a few hundred yards, we could perceive a number of men engaged upon the field. Lights were moving from place to place rapidly, while immediately in front a strong picket of cavalry were halted.
“By Jove! there’s sharp work of it to-night,” whispered Hampden. “They do intend to surprise us to-morrow.”
“Gently now, to the left,” said I, as cautiously skirting the little hill, I kept my eye firmly fixed upon the watch-fire.
The storm, which for some time had abated considerably, was now nearly quelled, and the moon again peeped forth amidst masses of black and watery clouds.
“What good fortune for us!” thought I, at this moment, as I surveyed the plain before me.
“I say, O’Malley, what are those fellows at yonder, where the blue light is burning?”
“Ah! the very people we want; these are the sappers. Now for it; that’s our ground. We’ll soon come upon their track now.”
We pressed rapidly forward, passing an infantry party as we went. The blue light was scarcely a hundred yards off; we could even hear the shouting of the officers to their men in the trenches, when suddenly my horse came down upon his head, and rolling over, crushed me to the earth.
“Not hurt, my boy,” cried I, in a subdued tone, as Hampden jumped down beside me.
It was the angle of a trench I had fallen into; and though both my horse and myself felt stunned for the moment, we rallied the next minute.
“Here is the very spot,” said I. “Now, Mike, catch the bridles and follow us closely.”
Guiding ourselves along the edge of the trench, we crept stealthily forward; the only watch-fire near was where the engineer party was halted, and our object was to get outside of this.
“My turn this time,” said Hampden, as he tripped suddenly, and fell head foremost upon the grass.
As I assisted him to rise, something caught my ankle, and on stooping I found it was a cord pegged fast into the ground, and lying only a few inches above it.
“Now, steady! See here; this is their working line. Pass your hand along it there, and let us follow it out.”
While Hampden accordingly crept along on one side, I tracked the cord upon the other. Here I found it terminating upon a small mound, where probably some battery was to be erected. I accordingly gathered it carefully up, and was returning towards my friend, when what was my horror to hear Mike’s voice, conversing, as it seemed to me, with some one in French.
I stood fixed to the spot, my very heart beating almost in my mouth as I listened.
“Qui êtes-vous done, mon ami?” inquired a hoarse, deep voice, a few yards off.
“Bon cheval, non beast, sacré nom de Dieu!” A hearty burst of laughter prevented my hearing the conclusion of Mike’s French.
I now crept forward upon my hands and knees, till I could catch the dark outline of the horses, one hand fixed upon my pistol trigger, and my sword drawn in the other. Meanwhile the dialogue continued.
“Vous êtes d’Alsace, n’est-ce-pas?” asked the Frenchman, kindly supposing that Mike’s French savored of Strasburg.
“Oh, blessed Virgin! av I might shoot him,” was the muttered reply.
Before I had time to see the effect of the last speech, I pressed forward with a bold spring, and felled the Frenchman to the earth. My hand had scarcely pressed upon his mouth, when Hampden was beside me. Snatching up the pistol I let fall, he held it to the man’s chest and commanded him to be silent. To unfasten his girdle and bind the Frenchman’s hands behind him, was the work of a moment; and as the sharp click of the pistol-cock seemed to calm his efforts to escape, we soon succeeded in fastening a handkerchief tight across his mouth, and the next minute he was placed behind Mike’s saddle, firmly attached to this worthy individual by his sword-belt.
“Now, a clear run home for it, and a fair start,” said Hampden, as he sprang into the saddle.
“Now, then, for it,” I replied, as turning my horse’s