"Where are we going—what are we to be about?" we now inquired of each other as we rode on; and ere long, from mouth to mouth, as the staff officers, perhaps, unwisely informed those commanding troops, and these, in turn their subs, we learned that the Duke of Marlborough had, during the day, reconnoitred the harbour and suburbs of St. Malo, with the shipping and government stores, and had resolved on their destruction; so we were now to cover the advance of a body of infantry and artillery who were to perform this duty, with shot, shell, and hand grenades.
While advancing, I overheard Captain Lindsay say to Cornet Keith of ours—
"Marlborough has heard that the youngest and favourite daughter of the Marshal de Broglie, who now commands in Germany, resides in a chateau near St. Malo; and he thinks she would prove an important capture."
"Nay—pshaw—zounds, gallantry forbid!" responded the cornet, who was carrying the standard.
"I heard him say he would give a hundred and fifty guineas for her," continued Lindsay.
"For what purpose?" asked Keith, laughing.
"To send to London as a trophy, like the brass guns we hope to take at Cherbourg."
"A sorry capture, unless the girl is beautiful."
After proceeding about half a mile, our troop was ordered to press forward to the front, while the others reined up; then, as the artillery halted, and the deep hollow rumbling of the wheels and shot-laden tumbrils ceased, we could hear the flowing tide chafing in the dark on the bluff rocks of St. Malo, and, ere long, we saw the red lights that twinkled in its streets and fortress which towered above the ocean.
Girt as it was by deep waves and lofty walls, "the city of the corsairs," as some one names it, was secure from us then; so we rode on till we reached an open space, when the order came to form line on the leading section, and then the whizz, whizz, whizzing of balls, together with the rapid flashing of carbines in front, announced that the foe was before us.