Under England's flag

by Charles Boothby

My Dominico, the unhandy, had made the mouth of my little canopy to face the seaward wind, which now blew rudely upon me, drifting in all insects of nocturnal wing, especially the large, cold, chaffy locusts, with which the country was so covered that your horse kicked them up like dust under his feet. Awkward, ill-guided creatures, as big as one’s thumb, that when they got upon one did not know how to get away again.

My under-lip, like that of all the officers, was almost cleft in two by the effect of sun and night air, so that to laugh or smile brought tears into one’s eyes, and every time the wind dashed a locust against my face I gave myself a slap on the chops that stung my poor lip to distraction. Then it began to rain like the deuce, and soon giving weight to the wheat at top, the branches could no longer support it, so down it all came, wet bearded corn, branches and insects, all at once on my face.

I was extremely glad when this memorable night was over, and ere earliest dawn the signal for awaking sounded through the leafy roofs under which the army had that night reposed. At two o’clock I was busy in preparing my horse for his march, caring little now for the ill construction of my hut or all the disasters of the night.

The enemy, who had advanced to meet us from the south, having immediately after the battle retreated northwards to Catanzaro, instead of attempting to cover the country whence he came, it was plain that he no longer thought of defending Lower Calabria, which province with its garrisons he thus abandoned to his victorious adversary. Sir John Stuart was strongly minded to pursue these extraordinary advantages, and with his small unassisted army (for there was no indication of a national rising) to drive the French still further to the north, and increase the extent of his footing in the kingdom of Naples. There was certainly more gallantry than prudence about this idea; for when the interests which depend on this little army are considered, the importance of the Island of Sicily at this moment, and our trifling numbers for territorial occupation, there can be no doubt that those about the General, who prevailed with him to be satisfied with the conquest of the province[8] almost touching this important island, with whose safety he was entrusted, did better service by their counsels than they could at that time have rendered by their swords.

Of this number, I believe, was his Quartermaster-General, a young man of great acquirement and high military promise; and certainly not the least influential of them was our own Commandant[9] of the Royal Engineers, whose vigorous and strong professional opinion certainly had great influence, for the Quartermaster-General in reference to it used these emphatic words, “It has succeeded.” It was in conformity with the decision produced by these counsels that the Headquarters had moved to Monte Leone, and the General was now disposed to content himself with placing the province of Lower Calabria upon such a footing of military occupation as would delay its reoccupation even by a very superior force, and ensure to us for a considerable time both shores of the Straits of Messina.

Most of the ports to the southward of Monte Leone were so inconsiderable as to surrender on the first appearance of a military force or of a ship of war. But the port which by its position was by far the most important (viz. the castle, strongly built upon the rock of Scylla) was in a good state of defence, impregnable to assault, fully garrisoned, and commanded by the chief engineer of Regnier’s army; so as might have been expected, the commandant had treated the Admiral’s summons to surrender with contempt. It was necessary, therefore, to march against the place. And when the commander of the brigade which sat down before it gave a more serious summons, the Frenchman answered that before he could surrender he must at least see the means by which he could be reduced, meaning without doubt heavy artillery, so placed as to batter him in breach.

It became necessary therefore to attack this castle by a regular siege, and the army on the 12th of July began its march at four o’clock in the morning. It had not proceeded many miles before I, being then about fifty miles distant, received an order from my Commandant to repair to the siege also. So I set forward alone.

The road lies over bold mountains, and is so intricate and devious that I lost my way and greatly lengthened my ride; but having traversed the promontory of Tropea, the route is then more certain and confirmed—keeping still indeed over mountains, but having the near-sounding sea as a general guide, sometimes showing itself through the cleft of two mountain peaks, and sending up the report of every gun fired on its surface multiplied by the muffled echoes of the mountains.

After riding about fifty miles, the incessant sound of guns advertised me of my approach to the scene of action, and soon, by one of those dangerous paths whereon a horse moves with difficulty, and a stumble would precipitate both horse and rider many hundred feet, I descended to the small marine town of Scylla (bounded to the south by the peninsular rock on which the besieged castle stood), and saw on its highest tower (in spite of its investment by sea and land) the tricolour flag flying.

The rock on which the castle stands seems, as it were, shoved out a considerable way into the sea by the low and narrow isthmus which ties it to the shore, and from this isthmus it rears itself suddenly in the midst of the waves.