July 4, 1806.—The position of the enemy was at right angles with the trend of the beach, and so distant from it as to admit of operations between the sea and his left flank, which was weak from the nature of the ground, an inconvenience the enemy could not avoid from our being masters of the water, upon which was Sir Sidney Smith with a line-of-battle ship and three frigates. The British marched with extended flanks and a heavy column in the centre, the right flank covered by the sea, the left flank exposed, so that during the approach of the English the left flank of each army was more particularly exposed to the operations of the other.
General Regnier, thinking with some reason that the impetus of assault has much influence over the fate of battles, determined not to wait for our attack. He descended from his position, crossing the river Amato, which bathed its foot, and rushed upon the daring foe that was advancing to attack him.
It happened that the Light Infantry Corps, under Colonel Kempt, in advance of our right, was opposed to the Premier Regiment de L’Infanterie Légère, one of the most distinguished regiments in Napoleon’s service. After these two regiments had exchanged some well-directed volleys, the French corps rushed forward at the pas de charge, their commander exclaiming furiously as they advanced, “Ne tirez pas! ne tirez pas! À la bayonnette! à la bayonnette!”[6]
“Steady, Light Infantry!” shouted Kempt. “Wait for the word! Let them come close, let them come close! Now fire! Charge bayonets! March!”
All this passed in a moment, but duly as ordered each deed was done. When the French were very near they received a murderous volley from their steadfast-hearted opponents, who then, as one man, rushed forward to the charge. Just as that thing, which it is said has never happened, viz. the equal shock of opposing lines of troops, seemed inevitable, just as the two regiments seemed in the very act of contact, the French Light Infantry, as one man, turned round and fled. They were driven across the river and up the heights, and a horrible slaughter took place of this beautiful regiment, which was almost totally destroyed.
Other regiments now volleyed and charged, as is usual in battles, and the enemy’s left being totally routed, Regnier redoubled his efforts to make an impression with his right, but with no better success. Neither cavalry nor infantry could make the smallest impression in front.
The cavalry now made a rapid movement to turn our left flank, which was unprotected; but at this critical moment the 20th Regiment, which had just landed, led by the gallant Colonel Ross, advanced in such a manner, and so skilfully availing itself of the advantages of cover which the ground afforded, that the cavalry were compelled to go to the right-about under a galling fire.
The victory was now decided, the enemy flying with the utmost precipitation. But as we had no cavalry, he was enabled, with those regiments which had less entirely committed themselves, to preserve some order in his retreat.
The slaughter on the side of the enemy was immense, indeed hardly credible when compared to the smallness of our loss. In killed, wounded, and taken, the French loss has been estimated at more than 3000, while our total loss exactly amounts to as many hundreds, our killed amounting to 40 privates and 1 officer, while 700 Frenchmen were buried on the field. A French general (Compère), severely wounded, is amongst the prisoners. He led the enemy on to the charge with an acharnement that seemed like individual hate, and on being taken he rode with his shattered arm through our ranks, menacing with the action of his other arm, and cursing and swearing with the most voluble bitterness.
Another prisoner said, “Ma foi! they told us the English were fish that could only fight by sea, and knew nothing of the matter by land.”