The Jew tried various modes to induce them to relinquish their booty; first threats—then offers of reward—then cajolery; and, at last, attempted to interpose and thrust them from their spoil. He would probably have experienced rough treatment in addition to the spoliation of his goods, but for other interruption too potent to be disregarded. A shot from the enemy entering the store, enfiladed a long line of barrels, scattering the staves and their contents. The place was instantly flooded with liquor—wine, molasses, spirits, and oil, ran in a mingled stream, soaking the debris of biscuit and salt provisions that strewed the floor. One soldier was struck dead, and Mr Bags only escaped destruction by the lucky accident of having his head at that moment apart from the barrel which had engrossed his attention, and which was knocked to pieces.
The Jew, partly stunned by a wound in the forehead from the splinter of a barrel, and partly in despair at the destruction of his property, came to the entrance of the store, seating himself among the rubbish. Other plunderers speedily followed the example of the marauding soldiers, but he made no attempt to stop them as they walked past him. My grandfather, passing at the time on his way home, was horrified at the sight of him. Flour from a splintered barrel had been scattered over his face, and blood from the wound in his forehead, trickling down, had clotted it on his cheeks and scanty beard, giving him an aspect at once appalling and disgusting. His daughter had waited at the door of the Fives’ Court till she saw Owen come forth in safety, and had then availed herself of the protection of the Major as far as her own home. Shrieking at the dismal sight, she sprang forward and threw herself before the Jew, casting her arms around him. This seemed to rouse him. He arose—looked back into the store; and then, as if goaded by the sight of the wreck into intolerable anguish, he lifted his clenched hands above his head, uttering a sentence of such fearful blasphemy, that a devout Spaniard, who was emerging from the store with some plunder, struck him on the mouth. He never heeded the blow, but continued to rave, till, suddenly overcome by loss of blood and impotent rage, he dropt senseless on the ground.
My grandfather, calling some soldiers of his regiment who were passing, desired them to convey him to the hospital at the South Barracks, and, again taking the terrified and weeping Esther under his protection, followed to see the unfortunate Jew cared for.
At the various parades that day Mr Bags was reported absent, being in fact engaged in pursuits of a much more interesting nature than his military duties. A vast field of enterprise was opened to him and other adventurous spirits, of which they did not fail to avail themselves, in the quantity of property of all kinds abandoned by the owners, in houses and shops where locks and bolts were no longer a protection; and although the firing, which ceased for an hour or two in the middle of the day, was renewed towards evening, and continued with great fury, the ardour of acquisition by no means abated.
About midnight a sentry on the heights of Rosia (the name given to a portion of the rugged cliffs towards the south and near the hospital) observed, in the gloom, a figure lurking about one of the batteries, and challenged it. Receiving no answer, he threatened to fire, when Bags came forward reluctantly, with a bundle in his hand.
“Hush, Bill,” said Bags, on finding the sentry was a personal friend—“don’t make a row: it’s only me, Bags—Tongs, you know,” he added, to insure his recognition.
“What the devil are you doing there, you fool?” asked his friend in a surly tone—“don’t you know the picket’s after you?”
“I’ve got some little things here that I want to lay by, where nobody won’t see ’em, in case I’m catched,” returned Bags. “Don’t you take no notice of me, Bill, and I’ll be off directly.”
“What have ye got?” asked Bill, whose curiosity was awakened by the proceedings of his friend.
“Some little matters that I picked up in the town,” returned Bags. “Pity you should be on guard to-day, Bill—there was some pretty pickings. I’ll save something for you, Bill,” added Bags, in an unaccountable access of generosity.