On their flying, the incessant discharge of fire-arms, which had rung for so many hours, died away for a time; and the rising sun revealed to us the carnage of the last night's conflict. The breach, the rocks, and approaches without the court, parapets and defences within, were covered with blood, and strewed with mangled bodies: but the ascent of the forlorn hope was terrible—no pencil could depict—no pen can describe it! The Frenchmen lay in piles of twenty and thirty; while scattered in every direction were seen the fragments of those who had perished by the discharges of the howitzer.
Taking advantage of the temporary cessation of hostilities, I ordered the breach to be repaired by piles of stones and rubbish, to form a breastwork; while another fatigue party cleared away some of the ruins which buried our cannon and platforms. The soldiers raised a faint cheer—one gun was extricated. Alas! a trunnion was knocked off by the falling stones, and our labour had been in vain—it was useless. On seeing how we were employed, the French drums once more beat the pas de charge, and the attack was renewed with greater fury, and on two distant points at once. The 1st, 62nd, and 101st again advanced to the breach, while a brigade of their second battalions, under General Milette, with ten or twelve field-pieces, assailed us on a point almost opposite; and the breaching battery, the field-brigade and mortars on the height, poured shot and shell upon us with remorseless determination. During the whole night and morning, the elemental war had continued with such unabated fury, that our gun-boats had been unable to leave the Sicilian coast; and I became convinced—but with sorrow and chagrin—that a capitulation was inevitable. I was about to order the gallant union to be hauled down, and the white flag of mercy hoisted: but before doing so, I conveyed a notice by telegraph to General Sherbrooke, in Sicily, acquainting him with my situation and intention.
"Fight on—you will be rescued!" was the answer we received. Almost immediately after the storm lulled a little, and we saw the stately Electra standing, with her sails crowded, towards Scylla; while the flotilla, from the Faro, spread their broad latteens to the stormy wind. Animated by the prospect, and filled with desperate courage, once more we manned the deadly breach. Before, we fought for honour and in the fulfilment of our duty; now, it was for life and liberty: and most effectually we kept the foe in check, until the gun-boats reached the sea staircase; where Captain Trollope, of the Electra, with the men-of-war launches, arrived to superintend the embarkation.
Aware of our intended escape, the enraged enemy did all in their power to frustrate it: the batteries, the brigades of field-pieces, and the battalions of infantry, poured their utmost fire upon the steep and narrow staircase (which was hewn out of the solid rock), on the ruined breach, the blood-stained ramparts, the corpse-heaped ditches, and the heaving boats: their drums rolled and their shouts rent the air, while their frantic gunners worked their cannon like madmen.
Now, indeed, came the moment of my greatest dread and anxiety; to which all the rest had been child's play. Bianca—the poor drooping girl, now half dead with terror and exhaustion—had to be brought forth, with her attendant, and conveyed to the boats: to the boats, good God! And at that terrible time, when the concentrated fire of such a number of cannon, mortars, and musketry was poured upon Scylla; and especially on that steep and slippery stair which she had to descend. The 1st Legere, nearly a thousand strong, swept it with their fire. My heart became quite unmanned—I trembled: but it was for her alone.
"Oliver!" I cried to Lascelles; "see Bianca—see Mrs. Dundas to the boats: it is a duty with which I can hardly trust myself—I have the breach to defend. Look sharp, man! yet in God's name, I implore you to be wary!"
He wrung my hand, sheathed his sword and withdrew. A minute afterwards, he emerged from the ruined arch of a bomb-proof; Bianca leaned on his arm, and a party of soldiers threw themselves in a dense circle around her for her protection.
"Claude, Claude!" she cried, in a despairing voice: but the faithful band hurried her down to the boats.
"Sound—close to the centre!" cried I to the bugle-boy; "call off the men from every point!"
As he obeyed me, tears fell fast from his eyes: his father, a soldier, lay dead in the breach close by. The bugle-blast was caught, in various cadence, by the wind; and could be barely heard above the noise of the conflict: the assembly, and the retreat, poured in rapid succession on the ear; and the last shrill note of the warning to retire double-quick had scarcely been given, ere the bugle flew from his grasp, and struck by a shot, the poor boy rolled at my feet, bleeding and beating the earth. Sixty men, the last remnant of my comrades, assembled from every point. Lloyd spiked the mortar, and the whole rushed helter-skelter down the steep staircase and sprang into the boats; which were pushed off as soon as they were filled.