For several hours after daybreak, on that 16th of January, the two armies stood fronting one another. Moore had sent all his cavalry, and most of his guns, on board the transports, retaining only the infantry to fight Soult if he attempted to interfere with the embarkation. Hope’s division, consisting of Hill’s and Leith’s brigades, occupied the extreme left of the British line, its flank resting on the river. Next came Baird’s division, comprising Manningham’s and Bentinck’s brigades, the latter facing the little village of Elvina that lay at the bottom of the slope held by the British, but almost under the frowning heights occupied by the French batteries. On the Corunna side of the British position, and protected by the crest of the hills, Catlin Crawford’s brigade lay in support of Hope’s division, while Warde’s two fine battalions of Guards were posted a little farther to the right, ready to reinforce Baird. Almost out of sight of the French, in front of the village of Oza, lay Paget’s Reserve, ready to be hurled upon any force attempting a turning movement against Baird. It was so well concealed by the formation of the ground that the French were not likely to discover its presence until their movement was well developed. Some distance in Paget’s rear General Fraser’s division occupied a low eminence outside Corunna, ready either to support Paget or to hold in check the large body of French horse that was found to be threatening the right rear of the British position. Dinner-time came, and there was still no forward movement among the enemy. Moore concluded that Soult had made up his mind not to risk an attack, and consequently made preparations for completing his embarkation. The reserve division, with orders to embark as soon as the mid-day meal was over, grumbled while they ate their plentiful rations, even those from whom no murmur of complaint had been heard during the lean days of the retreat. Corporal Wilkes, whose courage and cheerfulness during the black fortnight had more than once earned him a word of praise from his officers, now made no attempt to disguise his feelings. "I call it a shame," he remarked, gazing moodily up the valley to the dark masses on the heights, "that we should scuttle away without even the chance of a slap at ’em. Of course they’ll come on as soon as they see our backs, and of course there’ll be another fight. Of course there will. But where shall we be?—shut up with rats and cockroaches and shellbacks, and wishing we was at the bottom o’ the sea. We’ve been doin’ the worst of the work—there ain’t no arguin’ as to that—why couldn’t they let us see it out?—that’s what I want to know." [Illustration: The Battle of Corunna]