The lively adventures of Gavin Hamilton

by Molly Elliot Seawell

At that moment, from their commanding position, St. Arnaud and Gavin looked across a low-lying flank of the mountains, and winding across a valley, four miles away, were a thousand Prussian dragoons, while behind them came a long line of infantry, and then the great wagon train, four abreast.

Never had either Gavin or St. Arnaud seen such a sight as this vast mass of men, horses, and wagons that poured in a steady stream into the valley. The earth shook with the mighty tramp, and great clouds of dust enveloped them like a fog.

The stillness of the early June morning remained unbroken for an hour; yet while this strange procession unwound itself and approached nearer and nearer the defiles of Guntersdorf the noise became deafening, and the horses of the Austrian cavalry trembled with fear as the earth shook under their feet. Presently, the first platoon of Prussian cavalry debouched before an Austrian field battery, concealed in the heights above them. Suddenly the thunderous roar of wheels and hoofs was cut into by the booming of guns, and cannon-balls dropped among the troopers. Instantly there was a halt, the infantry closed up, and under a heavy fire the Prussians formed and rushed up the heights to silence the guns. The Austrians stood their ground, supported by both cavalry and infantry; but meanwhile the wagons were fighting the battle for them. In vain had orders been sent back to halt the train. It came pressing on with an irresistible force, like the force of gravity. The Austrians, seeing the beginning of hopeless confusion and panic in the wagon train, which could only increase, drew off, inducing the Prussians to follow them. There was some sharp fighting among the passes, but, as Gavin said, just as he was beginning to enjoy himself the order came to fall back to Domstadtl.

It was about eight o’clock in the morning when the Austrians began to retrace the road they had travelled soon after daybreak. St. Arnaud’s and Gavin’s regiment, having had the van in the advance, were the rear-guard of the retrograde movement. As they trotted along behind the last rank of troopers, they both cast many backward looks at the rude mountain roads through which the Prussians were toiling to their destruction in the impenetrable ravines of Domstadtl. The troops had reformed as well as they could, but the wagons were in a terrible state of disorder. Some hundreds of them had stopped at Guntersdorf, but these had been swept away and trampled under foot by the advancing legions. Some of the wagoners had turned their vehicles around and were making for the rear, knowing fighting to be ahead of them; others, cutting the traces, mounted the horses and galloped no one knew whither, leaving a solid barricade of wagons in the road to be dispersed. And ever from behind came this avalanche of horses and wagons, pressing on, halting at obstacles, scattered in dire confusion, but always, always, a stream pouring on.

The Austrians reached the gloomy pass of Domstadtl only a little in advance of the Prussians, and before they had well taken their positions and unlimbered their artillery the Prussian vanguard, very gallantly led, had forced its way through the pass, with two hundred and fifty wagons on the gallop. But then came the howling of the Austrian artillery, and the advance was checked. Colonel Mosel, the Prussian commander, seeing there was no forcing the pass, formed all his wagons as fast as they arrived in a great square—a wagon fortress, as it was called—and prepared to defend it. General Zeithen, with the guard for the second section, moved rapidly backward to turn the great stream of men and horses and wheels back on Troppau. But still they came surging on, men losing their heads, and driving forward when they were ordered to turn backward. And on the wagon fortress played the Austrian artillery, while the cavalry, dashing up to the remnants of the Prussian guard, sabred them at the wagons. The wagon horses grew wild with fright, and their plunging, rearing, and frantic whinnying added to the maelstrom of disorder. The powder wagons were in this division, and when an Austrian cannon-ball fell into one of these, the explosion seemed as if it would rend the solid mountains. Others caught from the sparks of this one, and the scene and sound, as deafening crashes resounded, and masses of flame and smoke ascended, were like the infernal regions. Huge rocks, split by the concussion of thousands of pounds of gunpowder, rolled down the sides of the mountain, sweeping away men and horses in their resistless course. Uprooted trees and a vast mass of debris followed these awful reverberations. Horses dropped dead in their tracks, men fell to the ground, stunned by the roar, and were unable to rise; others bled at the nose; some became totally deaf. The sky was obscured with smoke, and in the semi-darkness at midday men’s faces, blackened with powder, had a frightful appearance. Fighting continued at all points along the line, where the eleven thousand Prussians endeavoured to make a stand at many places, but were completely overborne. Cannon and musketry added their horrors to the scene, and when men fought at all they fought like demons. All through the June day this fearful combat raged through the mountain passes; and when the sun, obscured in dim clouds, set, the great wagon train was utterly destroyed, with thousands of its escort, wagoners, and horses dead.

Neither St. Arnaud nor Gavin slept in a tent that night, but throwing themselves on the ground, wrapped in their cloaks, slept the sleep of exhaustion and collapse.

By sunset Frederick of Prussia knew that his convoy was destroyed, and with it some of his best troops. That night the bombardment of Olmutz was terrific; the Prussians were firing off the ammunition they could not take away with them. No one slept in the town or the fortress that night for the hurricane of fire and flame that blazed from the Prussian lines. It slackened toward daylight, and when the sun rose there was not a Prussian regiment in sight. The whole army was on the march for the other side of the mountains.

CHAPTER XII

The abandonment of the siege of Olmutz and the success of the Battle of the Wagons raised to a high pitch the spirits of the Austrian army. Marshal Daun even departed so far from his usual extreme caution as to follow Frederick, who retreated through the mountains, and took up his post upon his own side of them. But he was not suffered to remain in peace, and was continually harassed by the Austrian cavalry and the clouds of Pandours, who followed and hung upon him.

To be of Loudon’s corps was enough to say that the summer was one of incessant movement to Gavin Hamilton and St. Arnaud. Both of them were, however, of so much natural activity, that nothing could have suited them better than the constant marching, manœuvring, and fighting of the summer of 1758. It was a particularly cool and healthful summer, and in spite of hard work and soldier’s fare, both of them grew more robust than ever.