And can you wonder, when two of those who fought had found their wives bayoneted: Grainger was one of them; and when the fight was over, during which, raging like a demon, he had killed four men, the poor fellow sat down by his dead wife, took her head first in his lap, then to his breast, and rocked himself to and fro, crying like a child, till there was a bugle-call in the courtyard, when he laid her gently in a corner, carrying her like as if she had been a child, kneeled down, and said “Our Father” right through by her side, kissed her lips two or three times, and then covered her face with a bit of an old red handkerchief; and him all the while covered with blood and dust and black of powder. Then, poor fellow, he got up and took his gun, and went out on the tips of his toes, lest he should wake her who would ope her eyes no more in this world.
Perhaps it was weakness, I don’t know, but my eyes were very wet just then, for a soft little hand was laid on my breast, and Lizzy’s head leant over me, and her tears, too, fell very fast on my hot and fevered face.
I felt that I should die, not then, perhaps, but before very long, for I knew that my arm was so shattered that it ought to be amputated just below the elbow, while for want of surgical assistance it would mortify; but somehow I felt very happy, and my state did not give me much pain, only that I wanted to have been up and doing; and at last, Lizzy helping me, I got up, my arm being bandaged and in a sling, to find that I could walk about a little. So I made my way down into the courtyard, where I got near to Captain Dyer, who, better now, and able to limp about, was talking with Lieutenant Leigh, both officers now, and forgetful apparently of all but the present crisis.
“What wounded are there?” said Captain Dyer, as I walked slowly up.
“Nearly every man to some extent,” said Lieutenant Leigh; “but this man and Lant are the worst.”
“The place ought to be evacuated,” said Captain Dyer; “it is impossible to hold it another day.”
“We might hold out another day,” said Lieutenant Leigh, “but not longer. Why not retreat under cover of the night?”
“It seems the only thing left,” said Captain Dyer. “We might perhaps get to some hiding-place or other before our absence was discovered; but the gate and that back window will be watched of coarse: how are we to get away with two severely wounded men, the women and children?”
“That must be planned,” said Lieutenant Leigh; and then the watch was set for the night, as far as could be done, and another time of darkness set in.
It was that which puzzled me, why a good bold attack was not made by night. Why, the place must have been carried again and again; but no, we were left each night entirely at rest, and the attacks by day were clumsy and bad. There was no support; every man fought for himself, and after his own fashion, and I suppose that every man did look upon himself as an officer, and resented all discipline. At all events, it was our salvation, though at this time it seemed to me that the end must be coming on the next day, and I remember thinking, that if it did come to the end, I should like to keep one cartridge left in my pouch.