"Revenge! remember Dunbar and Bredenburg!" cried the whole battalion, with a wild Highland hurrah; and the soldiers redoubled their efforts, while the dying and dead fell fast on every side.
Suddenly there arose a cry of—
"The vaults—the church vaults are full of powder—five hundred barrels—Bredenburg! Bredenburg mercy! let us blow them up!"
This proved to be actually the case. Whether it was a mere speculation of our soldiers, or that they had been informed of the circumstances by some wounded Holsteiner (who had been compelled to serve the Austrians), I know not; but it was immediately acted upon.
Heedless of the leaden storm which was poured upon them, Phadrig Mhor, and a score of the brave fellows, rushed close to the walls of the church, beat down the bars of certain wooden gratings which admitted air to the vaults, and threw in five or six fireballs—engines formed of every combustible. These filled the whole basement story with a deluge of light, as they blazed, roared, and rolled about like flaming dragons; and to the eyes of a few revealed, in the very centre of the place, a goodly pile of wooden powder barrels.
"Retire—retire!" was the cry, and our men fell back on all sides, dragging with them several of the wounded, who were unable to crawl away; but we had scarcely retreated fifty paces down the main street, each side of which was bordered by stately beech-trees, when the earth shook beneath our feet, a blaze of yellow light filled the windows of the church, its broad roof of slates was shot into the air and rent asunder, to descend like rain upon the streets; a mighty column of fire poured upwards from the crater formed by the walls; I saw them gape and rend, in every direction; the taper spire shook like a willow wand, then crumbled and vanished with a crash. One half the edifice was blown into the air, the other half fell inwards. In an instant all became dark (save where the store-ships, half-burned to the water-edge, shed a sickly light upon the half-ruined town), and we heard a shower of stones, beams, slates, and materials of every kind, falling on the tops of the houses and into the street around us. With these came down many a scorched and shattered fragment of a human form; for at least five hundred men had, in one moment, been blown into eternity.
Among these were a hundred stout-hearted Irishmen of Butler's regiment.
Many of our men were severely injured by the debris of the explosion; after which I remember little more of that night, being struck senseless by a piece of falling timber.
I have a dim recollection of being borne away somewhere; and then of feeling the soft hands of a woman chafing mine, and pouring a cooling essence on my brow.
I thought of Ernestine; and then, as if that dear thought had conjured up her image and her presence, I seemed to hear her voice murmuring in my ear, as she wept and mourned bitterly.