"Monsieur le Duc," said he, "the allies are in motion: their troops have begun to cross the Nive, and Marshal Soult desires that you will be on the alert, and defend the ford, under the guns of this château, to the last." Without waiting for an answer, he wheeled round his horse and galloped out of sight in a moment. The clatter of the hoofs had scarcely died away, before two of the sentinels, posted on the bastion over-looking the ford, fired their musquets. A volley replied, lighting up the whole fortress for an instant, and all became hurry and confusion. Louis was thrust into his old place of confinement,—the castle-gates were secured,—the bridge was drawn up, and in five minutes every man was at his post. From the inmost recesses of his heart Lisle thanked Heaven for his narrow escape; and while in the close compass of his prison he listened to the booming cannon and musquetry, which shook the ancient fabric to its foundations, he earnestly prayed that the attack would be successful; and he well knew, by the hearty British cheers which from time to time came ringing on the wind, even above the noise of the conflict, that his comrades were carrying all before them.
CHAPTER XI.
PASSAGE OF THE NIVE.
"The bayonet pierces, and the sabre cleaves,
And human lives are lavished everywhere,
As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves,
When the stript forest bows to the bleak air."
Byron.
An order having been issued for a general attack on the enemy's position at the Nive on the morning of the 9th of December, an hour before day-break the allied army got under arms, in high spirits and glee at the prospect of fighting monsieur on his own ground, and prosecuting their victorious career still farther into France. But as it is not my purpose to give an account of that brilliant affair, I will confine myself to the adventures of our friends. In Stuart's quarter, or billet, a miserable and half-ruined cottage, the officers who were to be under his command on a certain duty, sat smoking cigars and carousing on the common wine of the country, until the signal "to arms" was given. The party consisted of his own subs,—of Blacier and a Spanish captain, Castronuno, a tall and sombre cavalier, lank, lean, and bony, and who might very well have passed for the knight of La Mancha. Their supper consisted of tough ration carne (beef), broiled over the fire on ramrods, and eaten without salt,—an article which was always so scarce, that a duro would have been given for a tea-spoonful. This poor fare Blacier improved by swallowing an ample mess of chopped cabbage and vinegar, and by puffing assiduously at his meerschaum. After having stuffed himself until belt and button strained almost to starting, he deposited in his havresack a quantity of spare bread and meat for his breakfast. Castronuno, who had been observing his gluttony with quiet wonder, recommended him to eat his breakfast then, as it would save trouble on the morrow. This advice Stuart enforced by adding, that he might be knocked on the head before day broke, and perhaps all his good provender would go to swell some other man's paunch.
"Mein Gott!" groaned the German, "vat you say is right. I veel eat vile I can. Hagel! mein Herr, you hab gibben de soond advice." And he commenced a fresh attack on the viands, and quickly transferred them from the havresack to his distended stomach. He had scarcely finished, and let out four holes in his sword-belt, before the sharp Celtic visage of Serjeant Macrone was seen peering through the clouds of tobacco-smoke, as he informed Stuart, "Tat ta lads were a' standin' to their airms on the plain-stanes."
It was then an hour before day-break, and the sky was dark and gloomy. Stuart noiselessly paraded his troops,—the "light-bobs," Blacier's riflemen, and Castronuno's Spaniards, and moved up the banks of the stream to execute the duty assigned to him. This was to carry by storm the castle of the Nive, that the troops in its immediate neighbourhood might be enabled to cross by the ford, the passage of which was swept by the guns of the fortress. The day preceding the projected assault, Ronald and Blacier made a reconnoissance of the place, and found that there was no other method but to ford the river below the neighbouring cascade and carrying the outer defences by storm, trusting to Heaven and their own hands for the rest, as the tall keep might be defended against musquetry for an age, unless a piece of cannon was brought to bear upon it.
At the time mentioned, an hour before dawn, the whole of the troops in and about Cambo were under arms, and the signal to cross was to be the storming of the château. The companies destined to effect this dangerous piece of service, marched up the bank of the Nive a few miles, and favoured by the intense darkness, halted immediately opposite to the scene of action among some olive-trees, which were, however, bare and leafless. There a consultation was held, and it was determined to proceed forthwith. All appeared still within the château. The sentries on the bastions and palisades were seen passing and repassing the embrasures, but the noise of their tread was drowned in the rush of the cascade, which poured furiously over a ledge of rock a few yards above the fort and plunged into a deep chasm, from which a constant cloud of spray arose. Desiring Evan Bean Iverach to keep close by his side, Ronald, with a section of twelve picked Highlanders carrying three stout ladders, led the way. Under the command of Evan Macpherson, the rest of the company followed close upon his heels, with their bayonets pointing forward, and every man's hand on the lock of his musquet. Old Blacier, who was as brave as a lion notwithstanding all his oddities, prepared to mount the works by escalade a little further up the stream, where his riflemen were in imminent danger of being drenched by the spray of the waterfall. Two companies of the 18th Spanish corps of the line were to form a reserve, under the command of Don Alfonso de Castronuno.
"Now then, lads," said Ronald, while his heart leaped and his breath came thick and close, for the moment was an exciting one, "keep up your locks from the stream, and look well to your priming,—though we must trust most to butt and bayonet."
"Qui va là?" challenged a sentinel.