“What! is Hall killed?” demanded the Serjeant and the men of the guard.
“‘Faith! poor fellow he is—or all as one; the ball enthered his breast, an’ he was taken away to the surgeon with very little hopes o’ life.”
At this information of the Corporal’s there was a general murmur of regret.
O’Callaghan continued—“Misther Morris now says to the men, ‘Come—ready lads—an’ when the party on the other side fires, watch the window, while I throw the light right on it; which, when you see, fire at once—the whole of you.’ We then moved in the dark to six or eight paces farther out, an’ more in front. The smoke was now getting away—for a blast o’ wind just then came. In about a minuet or two, slap went the Serjeant’s party—a volley into the window. ‘Steady!’ says the Liftinent; ‘good aim lads’; an’ in less than a minuet he claps the light on the window. There was the fellow with a blundtherbush up to his shouldther, an’ he let fly just as we fired—the light was kept steady on him—I’m sure every man could see him. Rattle went the lead into him:—he jumped like a hopping ball up against the window top, an’ out fell his dead body across the ledge:—there he hung with his head an’ shoulders out. A most dthreadful cloud o’ smoke came now over the house, an’ almost stifled us; at which Misther Morris ordthered me to go round to the rear an’ see what was the matther. I went, an’ the sentheries there tould me the house was o’ fire—’faith! I soon saw it was; for the flames were bursting out o’ the windows; so I ran back to tell the Liftinent. We were all astonishment. What was to become o’ the men inside?
“There was no more firing from the party: the Serjeant was ordthered to remain at his post in front, with his six men, while Misther Morris an’ I ran round to the rear; but before we went, the flames came fleaking out of every window—even over the dead man that was lying stretched out over the ledge. It’s all up, thinks I, for they must ha’ spilt their potyeen, an’ set fire to it; otherwise the house could never be so suddenly in flames.
“Faith an’ you’re just right,” sneered the wounded prisoner; “We wasn’t a goin’ to let the d——d Exciseman taste a dthrop o’ it.”
“By my sowl! ye’re nice boys. I wish ye had been out at Badajoz, an’ may be ye’d ha’ had enough o’ such business,” said Corporal O’Callaghan, and then resumed his narrative. “Well,” said he, “we got round as fast as possible to the rear o’ the house, an’ just as we were approaching it, we sees the senthries—three o’ them—running towards the hill to stop three or four fellows who were galloping up it like monkies, an’ calling out that they would fire; while six or eight fellows made a rush by a hedge close to us, down the hill like devils, an’ we afther them—officer an’ all. I’m a good runner—an’ by my sowl! I could not do much with them fellows; they were like Leberacawns—we had scarcely time to wink our eyes, when they were gone—hooh! off they were like birds.”
“But didn’t Lieutenant Morris order you to fire, Corporal?” said Serjeant Dobson.
“Fire! not he. Why should he, Serjeant? You know what the Liftenant is,—he’ll not dthraw blood in such a case as that—the poor devils were running away. We couldn’t have much glory in killing one o’ them, I’m sure. One o’ the senthries fired though, an’ shot this nate-looking gentleman here getting up the hill, an’ made him prisoner; the other lad there fell right on his head and rowled down; so that he was also caught.”
“And is the house burnt?” demanded the Serjeant.