The enemy was rallying. His bugles pealed, his officers were shouting and urging, a column boiled into the street before. As quick as thought the two guns of the gateway battery had been reversed—“Clear the way, there!”—and a shower of grape scattered the column.
The bugles sounded again, with the Mexican signal for recall.
The other regiments thronged in: the Second Artillery, the Sixth Infantry, the Eighth (with Hannibal rolling his drum and cheering lustily), the Third Artillery, the Fifth Infantry, the Voltigeurs; all the Worth foot. Then, after the troops had been assigned to position, Captain Huger, of the ordnance, and two heavy guns, a twenty-four-pounder and a ten-inch mortar came on; were planted in the gateway, General Worth overseeing.
Save for the tolling of bells, the distant cries of frightened people, and the muffled notes of Mexican drums and bugles, the city was quiet. Now what?
“Get your range by the map, captain,” spoke General Worth to Captain Huger. “Then throw a few shell in the direction of the plaza and capital buildings. I don’t particularly care where they land, as long as they notify the authorities that we are here and have the city at our mercy.”
“Cut your fuses for sixteen hundred yards,” Captain Huger ordered. “With shell, load!”
“Number One, ready! Fire!”
“Boom!” The twenty-four-pounder had spoken. “Crash!”
“Number Two, ready! Fire!”