The task seemed utter madness, even to Helmar, whose adventurous spirit had made him one of the first to volunteer. Directly darkness closed in, the advance was made; one hundred and fifty tired but desperate men started on that fateful mission. George never expected to come out of it alive, and many and varied were his thoughts as the little band made its way towards the town. The one thing that he regretted most was, that he had not been able to see Osterberg before he left Tel-el-Kebir. He had been too tired to seek him out after his interview with the Commander-in-Chief in that labyrinth of tents, and by the time he left in the morning, doubtless the boy was with the fighting line at the trenches. Well, it couldn't be helped now; if George survived this night's work he would see him again some day, and if not——
Here his reflections were broken in upon by the word being passed down the line to urge their horses into a trot, but with strict injunctions to keep together. Helmar was still on the lead, accompanied by Belbeis and the officer.
"Four more miles and then we are in for it," said the latter, as his horse quickened his pace.
"Yes, sir," replied Helmar, "four more miles and then—Death or Glory."
"They rode straight for the citadel." p. 344
Nothing further was said, and in grim silence the march was continued. Major Watson now headed his men, and the outskirts of the town were reached. Without hesitation the gallant Major rode straight for the citadel. The clatter of mounted men in the streets alarmed the natives, but the darkness kept the numbers of the invaders covered, and it was believed the British were upon them. Hundreds flung down their arms and grovelled in the dust, as this victorious little army galloped on. At length the city itself was entered. Each man of the one hundred and fifty sat on his horse with his arms ready for use, prepared to fight to the last. But no opposition was offered them.
Natives kept behind their doors in fear and trembling, thinking that the rest of the army was following, ready to adopt their own barbarous methods and massacre every one they came across. Panic had seized the city, and every one waited the catastrophe that each felt was about to fall upon them.
On rode Major Watson towards the eminence on which stood the citadel; as they came to it the poor worn beasts could scarcely carry themselves up the hill. By superhuman efforts at last the gates were reached. The crucial point had come.