And now—what's this?
All along the shore, slipping and sailing along across the sky comes into sight an endless succession of Taubes.
They glitter like silver in the sunlight, defying all the efforts of the French artillery; they sail along with a calm insouciance that nearly drives me mad.
Crash! crash! crash! Bang! bang! bang! The cannon and the rifles are at them now with a fury that defies all words.
The firing comes from all directions. They are firing inland and they are firing out to sea. At last I run into a house with some French soldiers who are clenching their hands with rage at that Taube's behaviour.
One! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight! nine! ten!
Everyone is counting.
Eleven! twelve! thirteen! fourteen! fifteen! sixteen!
"Voilà un autre!" cry the French soldiers every minute.
They utter groans of rage and disgust.