Our troops crowned the heights of the opposite side of the valley. It was not of sufficient elevation, however, to prevent me seeing over it on to the plain beyond, where the Pastucians were moving, endeavouring to force their way to the northward—their main body attacking our centre, while other divisions were marching to the right and left, evidently with the hope of outflanking the Patriots. I could clearly distinguish the different corps. The centre stood their ground. Juan with his cavalry drove back the enemy on the right; while the Cauca regiment, charging, prevented the body threatening our left flank from gaining the advantage they expected.
Frequently the Pastucians were so near that their shot came flying across the valley; but, their powder not being of the best, the bullets had by that time expended their force. Among their leaders I saw several friars; and, mounted on a fine horse, I recognised the bishop. He and his stalwart secretary had crucifixes in their left hands and bright swords in their right, which they kept vehemently flourishing. Now the bishop would hold up his crucifix, and now point with his sword at the Patriots. Then the enemy, with shrieks and shouts, would charge right up to our men; but on each occasion they were driven back with dreadful slaughter. Two or three monks were knocked over; still the bishop and his lieutenant seemed to bear charmed lives. Perhaps superstition had something to do with it, and our men were afraid to fire at a right reverend prelate.
At times I feared that the Patriots would give way, and on one occasion the bishop and his followers had nearly succeeded in breaking our line; but the regiment of the Cauca coming up, flushed with their previous success, charged the enemy and drove them back headlong—the bishop and his secretary, the ex-captain of dragoons, setting the example, and scampering off at a rate which made it difficult to overtake them. I expected to see Juan’s troopers in pursuit, but he was meanwhile hotly engaged with a body of the enemy’s cavalry, which after a sharp contest he defeated,—though they rallied again to cover the retreat of the bishop.
Soon after this I lost sight of the main body of our army, which had advanced; but small parties were seen coming to the rear, bringing in the wounded. I observed one party going towards the cavalry tents, which were directly below me. The men were carrying an officer on a stretcher, and as I brought my glass to bear on them I saw, to my grief, that the wounded man was Captain Laffan. Anxious to low whether he was much hurt, I immediately began my descent from the position, though in doing so, in my weak state, I nearly rolled to the bottom. Fortunately I met one of the camp-followers, who assisted me along, and by his help I got to Laffan’s tent, and found my friend in the hands of the surgeon.
“You are where you should not be, young man!” exclaimed the latter when he saw me.
“But I want to know how my friend is,” I said.
“What, Duncan, my boy!” exclaimed the captain, who recognised my voice. “I appreciate your kindness, but I wish you had remained in bed. I have only a bullet or two through me, and a sabre-cut on my arm dealt by one of those six rascals whom I was attacking. If there had been one less, I should have cut them all down. As it was, three bit the ground. Don’t fear! I shall be all right, with a little plastering and bandaging,—shall I not, doctor?”
“Yes, yes, captain, you’ll do very well; but you must keep quiet for a few hours.—And you, Mr Sinclair, must get back to your tent.”
I endeavoured to obey the surgeon, but, overcome with exertions for which I was ill-fitted, I sank down in a dead faint.
“Now this is too bad of the boy, when I want to be attending his friend,” I heard the doctor say, after he had poured some cordial down my throat, which somewhat restored me. On this, two men whom he summoned took me up and carried me back to Captain Brown’s tent.