'Boadicea and her chariot!' he yelled.
'I'll thank you, sir!' shouted Edrington with lungs of brass, 'to go on and prepare for our embarkation.'
'Aye aye, sir!'
The lean horse trotted on with the cart lurching after it and the grinning seamen clinging on to the sides. At the flank appeared a swarm of infantry, a mad, gesticulating crowd, half running to cut off the 43rd's retreat. Edrington swept his glance round the fields.
'The 43rd will form line!' he shouted.
Like some ponderous machine, well oiled, the half battalion fronted towards the swarm; the columns became lines, each man moving into his position like bricks laid on a wall.
'The 43rd will advance!'
The scarlet line swept forward, slowly, inexorably. The swarm hastened to meet it, officers to the front waving their swords and calling on their men to follow.
'Make ready!'
Every musket came down together, the priming pans clicked.