They defended themselves bravely with their swords; but, as we possessed the mouth of the excavation, all retreat was cut off. The corporal, a strong athletic fellow, beat down Santugo’s guard with a shovel, and striking him to the earth with the same homely weapon, broke through us, plunged down the rocks and escaped; but the whole of his party were bayoneted, and after utterly ruining and destroying the mine, we retreated within our gates without losing a man, or firing a shot. The exasperation of the proud Santugo at the rough knock down he received from the corporal is quite indescribable. Next day the enemy pushed forward still closer to the walls: led by my old acquaintance De Bourmont, the 101st regiment had the temerity to advance round an angle of the rocks to the water’s edge, for the purpose of destroying the sea staircase—our last, our only means of retreat. A cry burst from my soldiers: we brought every musket to bear upon that point, and depressed our cannon by wedges and hand-spikes: section after section of the enemy were swept into the sea, and they were therefore compelled to abandon the attempt; leaving half their number piled up on the rocky shore, killed or wounded, or drowned by falling from the narrow path, where many of the dead and dying were drenched and swept away every instant by the sea. As the mist rolled up from the mountains, we saw the shattered remains of the regiment—a dark mass in grey great-coats, with the tops of their glazed caps and bayonet-blades glancing in the sun—retiring, double quick, beyond the eminence, which, to a certain extent, sheltered Regnier’s infantry from our missiles: but their retreat was galled by them, and a line of prostrate bodies marked their route. "Dundas, you shall see how I will unhorse that fellow," said the officer commanding our artillery, as he coolly adjusted the quoin under the breach of a long nine. He meant old Bourmont, who, like a brave fellow as he was, retreated in rear of his column, and was jogging along on his charger, whose drooping head, mulish ears, curved face, and shambling action, shewed the thorough French horse. Before I could speak, the match fell on the vent, the gun was fired, and the aim was true—fatally so. "A splendid shot, and a jewel of a gun," exclaimed my friend, exulting in his gunnery, as both horse and rider tumbled prone to the earth. "Will you try a shot, Dundas?" "Thank you, no: you have killed the only man, amid all those ranks, I would have spared." "By Jove! he is not settled yet," said Lascelles, with an air of disappointment, as the colonel disengaged himself from his fallen horse, and, heavily encumbered by his jack-boots, scrambled over the hill with as much expedition as his short legs and rotund form would permit. Both Oliver and the artillerist were chagrined at his escape; and yet, in their quiet moods, both were men who would not have killed a fly.