By dark three batteries were firing, and all through the night the guns on both sides rained shot and shell at each other. Two more batteries of thirty-two pounders opened fire on the 10th, and by hot shot set fire that evening to the “Charon” frigate, making a sight of marvellous grandeur, for the ship became one mass of fire from the water’s edge to her spintle-heads, all her ports belching flame and each spar and every rope ablaze at the same moment. The morning of the 11th found fifty-two pieces of artillery mounted and hurling a storm of projectiles into the British lines; and that evening, a second parallel was opened, bringing the guns of the besiegers less than three hundred yards from their earthworks, and putting all parts of the town within range. After this was completed, the defensive fire slackened, for every gun with which the garrison sought to make reply was dismounted the moment it was advanced into the embrasure, compelling their withdrawal during daylight hours; and though each night as soon as dark screened them from the accurate gunnery of the Americans, they were restored and the firing renewed, it was done with a feebleness that bespoke discouragement and exhaustion. For two days shot and shell splintered and tore through abattis and fraising, and levelled parapet and ditch, almost unanswered.
To the right of the new parallel, and almost enfilading it by their fire, were two detached redoubts of the British, well in advance of their main lines. To end their destructive cross fire, as well as to complete the investiture, it was determined to carry them by assault; and as dark settled down on the evening of the 14th, two storming parties, one of French grenadiers and chasseurs, drawn from the brigade of the Baron de Viomenil and under the command of the Comte de Deuxponts, and the second, of American light infantry, taken from the division of the Marquis de Lafayette and commanded by Alexander Hamilton, were moved out of the trenches, and, followed by strong supporting battalions, were advanced as far as was prudent.
It was while the American forlorn hope was standing at ease, awaiting the signal, that Colonel Brereton came hurrying up to where Hamilton and Laurens were whispering final details.
“I could n’t keep out of this,” he explained; “and the marquis was good enough to say I might serve as a volunteer.”
“The more the merrier,” responded Laurens. “Come along with me, Jack. We are to take the fort in the rear, and you shall have your stomach full of fighting, I’ll warrant you. Here, put this paper in your hat, if you don’t want to be stuck by our own men.”
Hamilton, turning from the two, addressed the three battalions. “Light infantry,” he said, “when the council of war reached the decision to carry the works in our front, Baron de Viomenil argued that both should be left to his troops, as the American soldiery could not be depended upon for an assault. The commander-in-chief would not disgrace us by yielding to his claim, and ’t is for us to prove that he was right. We have shown the French artillerists that we can serve our guns quicker and more accurately; now let us see if we cannot prove ourselves the swifter and steadier at this work. Let the sergeants see to it that each man in his file has a piece of paper in his hat, and that each has removed the flint from his gun. I want you to carry the redoubt without a shot, by the bayonet alone.”
A murmur of assent and applause passed along the lines, and then all stood listening for the signal. It was a night of intense darkness, and now, after ten days of unending bombardment, the cannonading had entirely ceased, giving place to a stillness which to ears so long accustomed to the uproar seemed to have a menacing quality in it.
Suddenly a gun boomed loud and clear; and as its echo reverberated out over the river, every man clutched his musket more firmly. Boom! went a second close upon the first, and each soldier drew a deep breath as if to prepare for some exertion. Boom! went a third, and a restless undulation swept along the lines. Boom! for a fourth time roared a cannon, and some of the men laughed nervously. Boom! rolled out yet a fifth, and the ranks stood tense and rigid, every ear, every sense, straining.
Boom! crashed the sixth gun, and not a man needed the “Forward, light infantry!” of the commander, every one of them being in motion before the order was given. Steadily they advanced in silence, save only for muttered grumbles here and there over the slowness of the pace.
Without warning, out of the blackness came a challenge, “Who goes there?”