Between three and four o’clock on the morning of the 29th our attention was suddenly called by the trampling of horses quickly approaching. Springing up from our seats round the fire (lying down was out of the question from the heavy rain), we were instantly under arms, when an officer, two orderly dragoons, and a couple of armed guides rode up, whom we immediately recognised as Spaniards. The officer was aide-de-camp to General Beguines, by whom he was sent to Colonel Browne to inform him that untoward circumstances prevented an earlier attack on Medina Sidonia, but that it was his decided intention to storm it next morning, and he requested the colonel to make every exertion in his power to aid the assault. From what had already passed we felt very dubious as to Beguines’ intentions. But there was something so noble and ingenuous in the deportment of the aide-de-camp, who solemnly pledged himself for the attack taking place, that for the first time we strongly suspected a Spanish general of sincerity; in this instance we were not deceived. Colonel Browne told him that his support might be relied on, and instantly gave orders to prepare for march. The aide-de-camp having sparingly partaken of our greatest luxuries--salt pork and rum--mounted his steed with all that grace so peculiar to a Spaniard (and he was as fine-looking and handsome a man as I ever met), and bidding us a cordial farewell commended us with religious fervency to God and Saint Anthony and so rode off over bad roads and through French vedettes to inform his general that the English troops were already under way.