The engineer officer replied that he could account for it in no other way than that the barrel of powder which effected the partial destruction had in its explosion either choked or shaken from its direction the train leading to the second barrel, which consequently still remained whole in the undemolished part of the arch.
Upon this the general demanded to know within what period of time the disaster could be remedied.
“In less than twenty minutes, sir,” was the engineer’s reply.
“Very well, sir,” said General Paget; and then, turning to me, he said, “Go over the bridge.”
I considered this order to be addressed to me individually, for the purpose of reconnoitring, a service in which the general had frequently employed me during the march; and, taking a rapid view of the probable consequences of passing over the smouldering embers of the half-choked train, which might still revive and creep its way to the second barrel, however flattered at being selected, yet I confess I did not relish the affair. But whatever my sensations, they were my own private property; my person, I felt fully aware, belonged to my king and country.
Immediately moving forward to the bridge, I found that the order to cross it was intended not for me alone; the whole light company and the grenadiers were ordered to cross over. The main road led directly forward through the town of Betanzos; but close to the end of the bridge which we now approached a branch road turned off at a right angle, winding round the base of the hill upon which Betanzos stands. At this angle and on the side of the road next the bridge was a large house, which intercepted the view between the bridge and the turn of the branch road; and so we got on to the wrong road by mistake.
Captain Gomm, General Disney’s major of brigade, was sent to recall us, when we of course turned round, followed by the French cavalry at a short distance, within which they could easily keep, in consequence of the winding nature of the road.
As soon as the grenadiers, who now led, turned the angle of the road above mentioned they were immediately on the bridge, and, never forgetting the barrel of powder, they, followed by the light company, moved in double quick time over the narrow part of the bridge—by the men called the Devil’s Neck.
UNDER THE CAVALRY SABRE.
The enemy, perceiving us in such a hurry, no doubt attributed the haste to timidity (and it may be remarked in all contending animals that as courage oozes out of one it appears to be imbibed by its adversary); for scarcely bad the light company passed twenty yards beyond the Devil’s Neck when the cavalry gave a loud cheer—sure indication of a charge. I instantly gave the word, “Right about turn, forward!” and, being now in front of the men, in my anxiety to gain the narrowed part of the bridge—the Devil’s Neck—I happened to shoot five or six yards ahead, when, the dragoons advancing close, the front ranks of the company behind me came down on the knee. I had not time to turn round, for at that moment a French officer, darting in front rode full tilt at me. I cut at him, but my sword approached no nearer perhaps than his horse’s nose; in fact my little light infantry sabre was a useless weapon opposed to an immense mounted dragoon, covered, horse and all, with a large green cloak, which in itself formed a sufficient shield. After the failure of my attack I held my sword horizontally over my head, awaiting the dragoon’s blow, for it was far more dangerous to turn round than to stand firm. At this very critical moment a man of the company, named Oats, cried out, “Mr. Blakeney, we’ve spun him!” and at the same instant the dragoon fell dead at my feet. I flew with a bound to the rear, and regained the five or six paces incautiously advanced. The cavalry were now up to our bayonets, covering the whole pontine isthmus.