‘Turn out the guard, Truchet, without arms,’ said he. ‘Come with me, Tiernay—an awkward business enough,’ whispered he, as he led me along. ‘These follows have set fire to the kitchen chimney, and we have three hundred barrels of gunpowder in the cave!’ Nothing could be more easy and unaffected than the way he spoke this; and I actually stared at him, to see if his coldness was a mere pretence, but far from it—every gesture and every word showed the most perfect self-possession, with a prompt readiness for action.
When we reached the court, the bustle and confusion had reached its highest, for, as the wind lulled, large masses of inky smoke hung, like a canopy, overhead, through which a forked flame darted at intervals, with that peculiar furnacelike roar that accompanies a jet of fire in confined places. At times, too, as the soot ignited, great showers of bright sparks floated upwards, and afterwards fell, like a fiery rain, on every side. The country-people, who had flocked in from the neighbourhood, were entirely occupied with these signs, and only intent upon saving the remainder of the house, which they believed in great peril, totally unaware of the greater and more imminent danger close beside them.
Already they had placed ladders against the walls, and, with ropes and buckets, were preparing to ascend, when Truchet marched in with his company, in fatigue-jackets, twenty sappers with shovels accompanying them.
‘Clear the courtyard, now,’ said Charost, ‘and leave this matter to us.’
The order was obeyed somewhat reluctantly, it is true, and at last we stood the sole occupants of the spot, the bishop being the only civilian present, he having refused to quit the spot, unless compelled by force.
The powder was stored in a long shed adjoining the stables, and originally used as a shelter for farming tools and utensils. A few tarpaulins we had carried with us from the ships were spread over the barrels, and on this now some sparks of fire had fallen, as the burning soot had been carried in by an eddy of wind.
The first order was, to deluge the tarpaulins with water; and while this was being done, the sappers were ordered to dig trenches in the garden, to receive the barrels. Every man knew the terrible peril so near him; each felt that at any instant a frightful death might overtake him, and yet every detail of the duty was carried on with the coldest unconcern; and when at last the time came to carry away the barrels, on a species of hand-barrow, the fellows stepped in time, as if on the march, and moved in measure, a degree of indifference, which, to judge from the good bishop’s countenance, evidently inspired as many anxieties for their spiritual welfare as it suggested astonishment and admiration for their courage.
He himself, it must be owned, displayed no sign of trepidation, and in the few words he spoke, or the hints he dropped, exhibited every quality of a brave man.
At moments the peril seemed very imminent indeed. Some timber having caught fire, slender fragments of burning wood fell in masses, covering the men as they went, and falling on the barrels, whence the soldiers brushed them off with cool indifference. The dense, thick smoke, too, obscuring every object a few paces distant, added to the confusion, and occasionally bringing the going and returning parties into collision, a loud shout, or cry, would ensue; and it is difficult to conceive how such a sound thrilled through the heart at such a time. I own that more than once I felt a choking fulness in the throat, as I heard a sudden yell, it seemed so like a signal for destruction. In removing one of the last barrels from the hand-barrow, it slipped, and, falling to the ground, the hoops gave way, it burst open, and the powder fell out on every side. The moment was critical, for the wind was baffling, now wafting the sparks clear away, now whirling them in eddies around us. It was then that an old sergeant of grenadiers threw off his upper coat and spread it over the broken cask, while, with all the composure of a man about to rest himself, he lay down on it, while his comrades went to fetch water. Of course his peril was no greater than that of every one around him, but there was an air of quick determination in his act which showed the training of an old soldier. At length the labour was ended, the last barrel was committed to the earth, and the men, formed into line, were ordered to wheel and march. Never shall I forget the bishop’s face as they moved past. The undersized and youthful look of our soldiers had acquired for them a kind of depreciating estimate in comparison with the more mature and manly stature of the British soldier, to whom, indeed, they offered a strong contrast on parade; but now, as they were seen in a moment of arduous duty, surrounded by danger, the steadiness and courage, the prompt obedience to every command, the alacrity of their movements and the fearless intrepidity with which they performed every act, impressed the worthy bishop so forcibly, that he muttered half aloud, ‘Thank Heaven there are so few of them!’
Colonel Charost resisted steadily the bishop’s proffer to afford the men some refreshment; he would not even admit of an extra allowance of brandy to their messes. ‘If we become too liberal for slight services, we shall never be able to reward real ones,’ was his answer; and the bishop was reduced to the expedient of commemorating what he could not reward. This, indeed, he did with the most unqualified praise, relating in the drawing-room all that he had witnessed, and lauding French valour and heroism to the very highest.