It took us an hour and a half to reach the cove, the wind being so light; and in order to remain in company, the little “Mouette’s” canvas had to be reduced to a close-reefed mainsail and small jib, under which we were still able to sail round the flotilla occasionally, in order that Lord Hood might see that all was right.
It was just growing dusk when the boats, having cast off from the towing hawsers, pulled into the cove and grounded on its steep shingly beach. We anchored the “Mouette” about a cable’s length from the beach, landed our passengers, and watched them fairly out of sight on the San Fiorenzo road, when Bob and I leaped into our dinghy and were pulled ashore. The naval brigade was by this time in motion; and, hurrying forward, we soon found ourselves alongside the “Juno’s” contingent, under the command of the second lieutenant, whose Irish blood was already up, and who greeted our appearance with a rollicking joke, which would in almost any other man have been unbecoming the dignity of his rank. But “Paddy” Flinn—or Micky Flinn, as he was indifferently called by his friends—had a subtle knack of behaving in an undignified manner, without jeopardising the respect due to him; for, let his vagaries take what form they would, he never by any chance descended to the committal of a mean, cowardly, or ungentlemanly act.
The camp of the land forces was pitched at a distance of about two miles from the beach; and the march was accomplished in about three-quarters of an hour, our tars beguiling the way with jokes and yarns of the most outrageous and improbable character. The strictest discipline was always maintained on board ship; but on land-expeditions, which would admit of it, a little more freedom was tacitly permitted.
When we reached the point of rendezvous, we found the troops who were to share with us the honours of the night already on the ground, and waiting. The guns of the Cliff Battery were still thundering away far above us; and the redoubt was replying with apparently undiminished vigour.
The place of rendezvous was a sort of ravine, situated about midway between the two opposing batteries; the ground being masked from the redoubt by one of the precipitous sides of the ravine. At the farther end, the precipice gradually merged into a steep slope, from the summit of which rose the hill upon which the redoubt stood; and up these two steep slopes the storming-party had to go.
By the time that all was ready, night had completely set in. Contrary to our hopes, it was exquisitely fine, not a single shred of cloud obscuring the deep blue vault of heaven. The wind had died away to the faintest zephyr, and the dew was falling so copiously that it promised soon to wet us to the skin. At a signal, made by the waving of a lantern, the guns of the Cliff Battery above us suddenly became mute, as though the artillerymen had given up for the night; and a calm and tranquil silence ensued, broken only by the gentle rustle of the fitful breeze through the foliage of some firs which were dotted here and there along the precipitous sides of the ravine, the chirping of insects, the occasional twitter of a sleeping bird, or a low murmur here and there in the serried ranks of armed men which stood awaiting the order to rush forth to death or victory. The stars flooded the scene with their subdued and mellow radiance, and, but for the occasional gleam of a naked weapon, everything was suggestive of restfulness and peace.
It had been hoped that we should be able to take the garrison of the redoubt at least partially by surprise; but the fineness and silence of the night rendered this impossible; as soon, therefore, as everything was ready, the party moved forward toward the farther end of the ravine, the soldiers leading the way, in accordance with the proviso of Major-General Dundas, who refused to co-operate with the naval brigade upon any other terms. It took us but a few minutes to reach the end of the ravine; and directly we were clear and had reached a point where the first slope became practicable, we were led up it at an easy pace, and halted just beneath its brow—and consequently under cover—in order that all hands might recover their wind in readiness for the rush up the second slope to the redoubt.
I was not, at that period of my life, particularly susceptible to serious thought or grave reflections; but as I stood on that steep hill-side in the hush and solemn beauty of the starlit night, and looked upon that band of silent men, every one of them with the pulses of life beating quick and strong within him, his frame aglow with health, and every nerve quivering with intense excitement, the awful thought flashed through my brain that, with many of them, a few brief seconds only stood between them and eternity. I wondered to how many of them had the same idea presented itself; and then came the question, “Does God ever in His infinite mercy, in such supreme moments as this, inspire similar reflections in the minds of the doomed ones, in order that they may not be hurried into His presence wholly unprepared?” It might be so, I thought; and if that were the case, was it not probable that, coming to me at such a time, they foreshadowed my own doom, and warned me to prepare for it while still I had an opportunity? Five minutes hence, perhaps, and Time would be, for me, no more. The signal to advance—the breathless rush—the flash and roar of artillery, a sickening crash, a hideous whirl, in which all nature becomes blotted out, and then—The Great White Throne.
Was that what lay before me? The oppressive excitement under which I had been labouring passed away; tears of emotion welled up into my eyes, and my heart went up to God in a brief, silent, fervent prayer for mercy and forgiveness; that if I were about to die I might be pardoned for Christ’s sake and received into everlasting life. For a minute or two the fear of death—or rather, of the eternity beyond death—had been upon me; but with the conclusion of my hurried prayer the mantle of fear fell from my shoulders, and a blessed peace—“the peace of God, which passeth all understanding,” as I reverently believed—took its place. I was supported by a consciousness, or perhaps it was only a belief, that whatever happened I was safe; and from that moment my only anxiety was to faithfully do my duty.
At length, sufficient time having been allowed for the men to completely recover their breath and brace themselves for the final rush up the hill to the redoubt, the word was given, and we dashed over the brow of the slope and charged up the steep ascent; and at the same instant the artillerymen in the Cliff Battery—who had been keenly watching our movements—reopened with a terrific fire upon the devoted redoubt.