CHAPTER XIII
The night was pitch-dark, and the three detachments marched out in perfect silence. The Spaniards had no suspicion of an attack until the first division was directly at the outer line of fortifications. Then the sentries quickly gave the word, the drums beat the alarm, and the camp of fourteen thousand men was roused in an instant. The first onslaught, however, of the British was irresistible. They overpowered the guard, and the work of firing and destroying the guns and fortifications immediately began. Before the Spanish Commander-in-Chief, in the darkness and confusion, could get his troops under arms the blowing up of the magazines had begun, and whole batteries of guns had been spiked. The bastions and gabions were fired, and so rapid and thorough were the British in their work that it was all over before the Spaniards realized what was happening, and the British were making for the Land Port gate.
The Spanish camp had been thrown into the greatest confusion, and their first line of fortifications was now past saving. The noise and the bursting out of flames and the explosions of powder were dreadful, but all were between the British and their foes. The losses of the detachment had been trifling, and Archy Baskerville had found nothing to do except to stand off and watch the quick progress of events. But while the three divisions were retreating rapidly and in good order to the gate, he saw in a ditch in front of him an officer lying on his side and groaning with agony.
HE SAW AN OFFICER LYING IN A DITCH
"Help here!" cried Archy; and in another moment Judkins was at his side, and the two had the officer on a stretcher and were carrying him with a rush towards the British lines, the officer meanwhile feebly protesting.
"No, no," he cried; "let there be one Spaniard to die with honor at his post."