At last, when every thing was prepared, they commenced their operations one night by blowing up the houses which had hitherto masked the batteries. I was out on picquet at the time; and we perceived them moving round a large fire which they had kindled. We suspected that they designed to attack us, and our suspicions were soon verified; for in a short time after, they gave a salute of grape shot, which ploughed the earth on every side of us; but this was only a prelude. A volley of red-hot shot, at the Spanish man-of-war, succeeded, which set her on fire, and obliged her to slip her cable, and drop down the bay. A volley or two more of the same kind scattered our gun-boats; and we were then left to bear the brunt of the battle alone. Now it began in earnest. Five or six batteries, mounting in all about twenty guns, and eight or ten mortars, opened their tremendous mouths, vomiting forth death and destruction. The picquet was called in.
There was a number of spare fascions piled up on the sea face of the battery, amongst which, for want of room in the bomb-proof, we formed huts. In one of these I lodged. They had been set on fire by a shell that fell amongst them; and when I entered the fort, the Spanish labourers were busy throwing them into the sea. I ran to try to save my knapsack, with the little treasure which I had gained; but it was too late—hut and all had been tossed over. There was no help for it: I did not know how soon I might be thrown over also. I was called to my gun, and had no more time to think on the subject. They were now plying us so fast with shell, that I saw six or eight in the air over us at once.
Death now began to stalk about in the most dreadful form. The large shot were certain messengers where they struck. The first man killed was a sailor who belonged to the Temeraire seventy-four. The whole of his face was carried away. It was a horrid-looking wound. He was at the same gun with me. ‘Ah! what will we do with him?’ said I to a seaman next me.
‘Let him lie there,’ was the reply. ‘We have no time to look after dead men now.’
At that time I thought it a hardened expression; but this was my first engagement. Not so with the tar. He had been well used to them.
The French soon acquired a fatal precision with their shot, sending them in through our embrasures, killing and wounding men every volley. I was on the left of the gun, at the front wheel. We were running her up after loading. I had stooped to take a fresh purchase, a cannon ball whistled in through the embrasure, carried the forage cap off my head, and struck the man behind me on the breast, and he fell to rise no more.
The commandant was now moving from place to place, giving orders and exposing himself to every danger. No one could doubt that he was brave: had it been bravery, softened and blended with the finer feelings of humanity, he would have been a true hero; but——. Our artillery officer behaved like a gentleman, as he had always done; and our subaltern in a tolerable medium: the midshipman in the style of a brave, rough and ready seaman. But, alas, how had the mighty fallen!—our brave adjutant, whose blustering voice, and bullying important manner, had been always so remarkable, was now as quiet as a lamb. Seated in an angle of the battery, sheltered from the shot, no penitent on the cutty stool ever exhibited so rueful a countenance.
The carnage now became dreadful; the ramparts were strewed with the dead and wounded; and blood, brains, and mangled limbs, lay scattered in every direction: but our men’s spirits and enthusiasm seemed to rise with the danger. The artillery officer stood on the platform, and when he reported any of our shot taking effect, a cheer followed, and ‘At it again, my heroes!’ was the exclamation from every mouth. When any of our comrades fell, it excited no visible feeling but revenge. ‘Now for a retaliating shot!’ was the word; every nerve was strained to lay the gun with precision; and if it took effect, it was considered that full justice was done to their memory.
We had a traversing gun in the angle of the battery which had done great execution. The artillery sergeant commanded her; and they were plying her with great vigour. In the course of the day, however, as the man was returning the sponge after a shot, and the cartridge in the hand of another, ready to reload, a thirty-two pound shot from the French entered her muzzle, she rebounded, and struck the sergeant with her breach on the breast, and knocked him over insensible. The shot had entered so far that she was rendered useless, and abandoned.
The action was kept up the whole of that day, during which we lost the best and bravest of our men. Our guns had been well directed at first; but towards evening, the most of the artillery who had commanded them were either killed or wounded; and the direction of them was then taken by men who knew little about it. The consequence was that much ammunition was used to little purpose. The artillery soldier at the gun next to me was killed, and two men equally ambitious for what they considered the post of honour, quarrelled about it. From high words it came to blows; but the dispute was soon settled; for a shell, falling between them, burst, and quieted them for ever.