It was the signal gun, announcing that the work of destruction and death had begun in grim, earnest. My heart beat thick and fast; every pulse quickened, and a proud, almost fierce and wild sensation, swelled within me, as the sharp report rang through the clear still air, and the white smoke floated away from the green knoll, revealing the dark cannon that bristled around it.
I reined up my gallant grey on an eminence, to watch the effect of the ball. General Regnier, escorted by fifty dragoons, their brass helmets and bright swords flashing in the sun, was at that moment galloping back to his right flank; and on this group the shot took effect: a commotion was visible among them immediately, and they rode on at a quicker pace, leaving a dark heap behind them—a rider and his horse lay dying or dead. The whole of our field-pieces now opened a rapid cannonade on the French line, and continued it incessantly during the action.
By this time the light infantry were hotly engaged: the Sicilian volunteers, the Corsicans, and our provisional light battalion, were filling the dark-green underwood, and the leafy groves along the banks of the Amato, with smoke; while hill, rock, and woodland rang with the ceaseless patter of the fire they rained on the French tirailleurs, who blazed at them in return with equal spirit, from behind every screen afforded by the irregularity of the ground. As the lines drew nearer, the light troops, as if by tacit agreement, were withdrawn by sound of bugle; and by nine o'clock in the morning the battle had become general, from centre to flanks.
The corps which formed the right of our advanced line, was a provisional battalion commanded by Colonel Kempt, and composed of the light companies of six of our regiments from Sicily, and that of de Watteville's corps, with a hundred and fifty picked men of the 35th under Major Robinson. These troops were opposed to the 1st regiment of French light infantry (the favourite corps of the Emperor), which they mauled in glorious style; pouring in a deadly fire at about a hundred yards distance. On their left was the corps of General Ackland, composed of the 78th, or Ross-shire Highlanders, the 81st regiment, and five companies of de Watteville's, with the 58th under the late General Sir John Oswald, then colonel.
General Cole, with the provisional battalion of grenadiers, and the 27th, formed our left. Such was the disposition of our little army when engaging the enemy, whose force mustered almost two to one. Sir Sydney Smith by this time had taken a position with his ships and gun-boats, to act and co-operate if circumstances favoured; but, much to the annoyance of the gallant sailor, his fleet could yield us no assistance during that day's fighting.
Led by the chivalric Macleod of Geanies,—a brave officer, who afterwards fell in Egypt,—the 78th rushed upon the enemy, with the wild and headlong impetuosity of their countrymen. I was close by their dashing colonel, when, sword in hand, he led them on.
"Forward the Ross-shire buffs! Let them feel the bayonet—charge!" And animated to a sort of martial phrenzy by the shrill pibroch—whose wild and sonorous war-blast rang as loudly on the plain of Maida as ever it did by the glassy Loch-duich, when the bale-fires of the M'Kenzie blazed on continent and isle—the bold Highlanders flung themselves with a yell upon the masses of the enemy. They were opposed to the French 42d regiment of grenadiers—a corps led by that brave French officer upon whom Buonaparte had bestowed the Calabrian title of Marchese di Monteleone. Riding in advance of his soldiers, by words and gestures the most enthusiastic, he urged them to advance, to keep together, to hold their ground. But his sabre was brandished, and the war-cry shouted, in vain; and vain, too, were the desperate efforts of his grenadiers before the tremendous charge of our Highlanders. Overwhelmed and broken, they were driven back in confusion, and pursued with slaughter by the 78th; until the latter were so far in advance of our whole line that Sir John sent me after them at full gallop, with an order to halt and re-form, in case of their being cut off.
I delivered the order to Macleod, who was stooping from his horse in the arms of a sergeant of his regiment, and almost unable to speak. A rifle-ball had passed through his breast, within an inch of the heart, inflicting a most severe and dangerous wound: yet he quitted not the field, but remained on horseback, and at the head of his Highlanders, during the remainder of the action, and the fierce pursuit which followed it.
Drumlugas, a captain of the corps, in the melée unhorsed the Marchese, who narrowly escaped with the loss of his steed and sabre: these remained the trophies of the victor, who distinguished himself by more conquests and captures ere the day was done.
Colonel Kempt's corps was now within a few yards of the enemy, and the deadly fire which they had been pouring upon each other was suspended, "as if by mutual agreement," as Sir John stated in his despatch; "and in close, compact order, and with awful silence, they advanced towards each other, until the bayonets began to cross. At this momentous crisis, the enemy became appalled; they broke, and endeavoured to fly; but it was too late: they were overtaken with most dreadful slaughter." Ere they fled—