Every night the sky was streaked with fire, showing where Favazina, Fiumara, San Batello, and many a hamlet were given to the flames, after being ravaged by the foragers of the enemy; and every breeze bore past us the cries of slaughtered men and the shrieks of miserable women.
The fall of Reggio was first announced to us by seeing Santugo's battalion of the Calabri retreating upon Scylla in solid square, pursued by cavalry, and galled by three curricle guns; which followed them at a gallop and were discharged from every eminence that afforded an opportunity of sending a shot into the retiring column: on its arrival, it occupied the half-ruined town below us.
Shortly afterwards, four Sicilian gun-boats, each carrying a twenty-four pounder in its bow, were captured by the enemy close by Scylla; and these cannon were landed and added to the train against the fortress. The moment it was known they had fallen into Regnier's hands, the Delight sloop-of-war, commanded by Captain Hanfield, stood close in shore to recapture them; and we watched her operations, from the ramparts, with the greatest interest.
Although the last day of December, it was a beautiful evening, and the golden Straits were gleaming in the light of the setting sun, then verging, through a sky of the purest azure, towards the green and lofty mountains which rise behind the spires and towers of Messina. The French beached the gun-boats in succession; and, covered by field-pieces and surrounded by squadrons of cavalry, we feared the sailors of the Delight would never cut them out or destroy them. Protected by the ship's broadside, three well-armed boats put off from her, and pulled shoreward, with the gallant intention of spiking the gun-boats' artillery at all risks.
Fire flashed incessantly from the red portholes of the Delight; and the white smoke of her cannon, rising through her taut rigging in fantastic curls, rolled away over the still bosom of the glassy Straits. The shot of the French field-pieces fell in a shower round her advancing boats; and wherever a ball plunged into the bright ocean, a pillar of liquid, like a water-spout, reared into the air with a hollow roar: a dozen of those crystal columns shot up their foamy heads at every moment, as the sailors pulled steadily towards the beach. In the headmost boat waved a large union-jack; and beside it, in the stern-sheets, sat Hanfield, waving his sword and cheering on his men. Close in his wake came the other boats, crowded with red and blue jackets, and glittering with boarding-pikes, bayonets, and cutlasses; while the glistening blades of the feathered oars flashed like silver in the sunlight, as they rose and fell in measured time, shooting the swift boats onward.
Crowding on the ramparts, the 62nd cheered, and threw their caps into the air; a response arose from the deck of the distant sloop, when lo! a most unlooked-for misfortune took place. Scylla, that place of horror and mystery to the ancient mariner, and before whose "yawning dungeon" Æneas and Ulysses quailed with terror, was still fraught with danger. Under a press of canvass, the Delight sailed obliquely, to keep company with her boats: there was a stiff breeze blowing straight from Sicily, and she stood close along shore, with every inch of her snowy canvass filled, when we beheld her shaken by a tremendous shock: her stately masts shook like willow wands, her long pendant fluttered, her broad sails shivered in the breeze, and she careened suddenly over. An exclamation burst from every lip.
"Ashore!" cried the soldiers, with sorrow and dismay, as her tall fore-topmast fell overboard; the main and the mizen followed it with a hideous crash: the beautiful vessel, which a moment before had been sailing so smoothly and swan-like, so trimly and saucily, lay a dismasted wreck, bulged on a sunken rock within a few furlongs of the beach, with her lee guns buried in the water, and all her seamen and marines who were not floundering in the wreck around her, clinging to her windward bulwarks.
A triumphant vivat! burst from the enemy, who plied their field-pieces with redoubled ardour; and a cry, loud, fierce and hoarse, answered from the English boats. The oarsmen paused, and the utmost confusion took place: there seemed a doubt whether to advance to the attack, or return to the assistance of their drowning messmates. Exasperated by the wreck of his dashing vessel, and filled with a desire for vengeance, the gallant Hanfield (an officer of great professional knowledge, and high individual worth) ordered the boats to advance: but his efforts were fruitless. His craft were soon crippled by the French cannon-shot and grape, which killed or wounded the majority of his force before it came near the Sicilian prizes. Hanfield, with many of his sailors, was killed, and Captain Seccombe, of the Glatton frigate, who happened to be on board the Delight, received a severe wound, of which he died a few days after. The boats' crews were all captured; and those men on the wreck went off in two remaining boats to save themselves from the same fate. To prevent Regnier from using the cannon remaining in the Delight, in prosecution of the siege, the moment it was dark enough I left the sea-staircase, in a boat, with ten soldiers, and setting fire to the vessel, burned her to the water's edge: so ended this catastrophe, which shed a gloom over us all for some time.
CHAPTER XI.
THE VOLTIGEURS.—THE MASSACRE OF BAGNARA.