After this disastrous failure, an unsuccessful attempt to breach the wall was tried—in effecting which, of the few guns in battery, two were totally disabled by the commanding fire of the castle—and the engineers resorted, from sheer necessity, to sap and mine. The former, from the plunging fire kept up from the enemy’s defences, and which occasioned a fearful loss, was speedily abandoned; but the latter was carried vigorously on—and the outward wall mined, charged,[205] and on the 29th, exploded.
At twelve o’clock at night the hose was fired—the storming party having previously formed in a hollow way some fifty paces from the gallery. When the mine was sprung, a portion of the wall came down, and a sergeant and four privates, who formed the forlorn hope, rushed through the smoke, mounted the ruins, and bravely crowned the breach. But in the darkness, which was intense, the storming party and their supporting companies, missed their way—and the French recovering from their surprise, rushed to the breach, and drove the few brave men who held it back to the trenches. The attack, consequently, failed, and from a scarcity of shot no fire could be turned on the ruins. Dubreton availed himself of this accidental advantage—and by daylight, the breach was rendered impracticable again.
Still determined to gain the place, Lord Wellington continued operations, although twelve days had elapsed since he had sat down before it. A singular despondency, particularly among the Portuguese, had arisen from those two failures; while insubordination was creeping into the British regiments, which produced a relaxed discipline that could not be overlooked, and which, in general orders, was consequently strongly censured.
The siege continued; and, on the 4th of October, a battery opened from Saint Michael’s against the old breach, while the engineers announced that a powerful mine was prepared for springing. At five o’clock that evening, the fusee was fired. The effect was grand and destructive—one hundred feet of the wall was entirely demolished, and a number of the French, who happened to be near it, were annihilated by the explosion. The 24th regiment, already in readiness to storm, instantly rushed forward, and both breaches were carried, but, unfortunately, with heavy loss.
A lodgment was immediately effected—and preparations made for breaching the second line of defence where it joined the first.
On the 5th, early in the evening, the French sallied with three hundred men. The attack was too successful—one hundred and fifty of the guard and working party were killed or wounded—the gabions overturned—the works at the lodgment injured—and the intrenching tools carried off.
That night, however, the damage was repaired—the sap was rapidly carried forward—and at last, the British had got so close to the wall, that their own howitzers ceased firing, lest the workmen should be endangered by their shot. The guns on Saint Michael’s battery had also breached with good effect, and fifty feet of the parapet of the second line was completely laid in ruins. But, in effecting these successes, a heavy loss was inflicted on the besiegers—and of their originally small means for carrying on a siege, the few pieces of artillery they possessed at first, were now reduced to one serviceable gun.
The weather had also changed, and rain fell in quantities and filled the trenches. A spirit of discontent and indifference pervaded the army. The labour was unwillingly performed—the guards loosely kept—and Dubreton again sallied furiously, drove off the working party, destroyed the new parallel, carried away the tools, and occasioned a loss of more than two hundred men. Among the killed, none was lamented more than Colonel Cocks, who having obtained promotion most deservedly for previous gallantry, died at the head of his men, while rallying the fugitives and repelling the sally.
Three assaults had failed—but still the allied commander did not quit the place in despair. Preparations for another attempt were continued—and the exertions of the engineers, of whom one-half had fallen, were redoubled. Heated shot was tried against the White Church unsuccessfully; while that of San Roman was marked as the more vulnerable point, and a gallery commenced against it.
On the 17th, the great breach was again exposed by the fire of the British guns, and the ramparts on either side extensively damaged. A mine beneath the lower parallel was successfully exploded, and a lodgment effected in a cavalier,[206] from whence the French had kept up a destructive fire on the trenches. It was held but for a short time, as the enemy came down in force, and drove the besiegers from it. On the 18th, the breach was reported practicable, and an assault decided on—the signal arranged being the springing of the mine beneath the church of San Roman. That building was also to be assailed, while the old breach was to be attempted by escalade—and thus, and at the same moment, three distinct attacks would occupy the enemy’s attention.