Some yards away from the branch from Neuville marines from the gunboats have planted huts along the towpath between the poplars.
The regular trot of our horses sounds clearly along the way.
A marine hears us and raises the flap of his tent to see us.
This frightens Hémin’s horse and he jumps into the canal.
Our comrade is unhorsed and disappears under the water. We jump down. But even before we jump two marines have plunged in. Others poke around with poles in the mud from a boat. In an eddy a hand appears, then a head, swollen, bloody, crushed.
Hémin got a blow from a shoe full in the face and could not swim.
The body is brought on to the bank.
A surgeon from the gunboat doubles his efforts in vain.
Hémin is dead.