"The French band playing Ca ira," said I.
"Oh, very well; we'll change their tune when we give them gunpowder for breakfast."
All eyes were now turned to the Boyne, which lay in the bay, with her black hull, squared yards, and lofty rigging distinctly defined upon the clear whitening bosom of the water, which seemed, in the peculiar state of the atmosphere, like a sheet of milk, far down below the black groves and rocks of the island.
The ships' bells struck five in varying cadence.
With breathless impatience we awaited the signal!
Gradually a faint streak of light began to brighten the edge of the distant sea; a quivering ray from the sun, yet far below the horizon, played on the gauze-like clouds above it, and then a heavy boom, with a red flash from the frigate's starboard bow, made every heart in the brigade to leap in response.
"The morning gun!" said one.
"The warning—the signal!" exclaimed others, in loud whispers.
"Stormers to the front—forward, double quick!" cried the Earl of Kildonan, in a loud and firm voice.
Then, with that ringing hurrah which comes from British lungs alone, we dashed in masses towards La Fleur d'Epée.