Soon the French skirmishers opened a biting fire across the water: it was returned as bitterly; the artillery on both sides played vigorously, the sounds were repeated by numberless echoes, and the smoke slowly rising, resolved itself into an immense arch, spanning the whole gulf and sparkling with the whirling fuzes of the flying shells. Fast and thickly the French gathered behind the high rocks, and a dragoon was seen to try the depth of the upper stream above, but two shots from the 52nd killed horse and man, and the carcasses floating down between the contending forces intimated that the river was impassable save by the bridge. Then the monotonous tones of a French drum were heard, the head of a noble column darkened the long narrow bridge, a drummer and an officer, the last in a splendid uniform, leaped together to the front and the whole rushed on with loud cries. The depth of the ravine so deceived the English soldiers’ aim at first, that two-thirds of the passage was won ere a shot had brought down an enemy; yet a few paces onwards the line of death was traced, and the whole of the leading French section fell as one man; the gallant column still pressed forward, but none could pass that terrible line, and the killed and wounded rolled together until the heap rose nearly even with the parapet, while the living mass behind them melted away rather than gave back. The shouts of the British now rose loudly, yet they were confidently answered, and in half an hour another column, more numerous than the first, again crowded the bridge: this time the range was far better judged, and ere half the passage was gained the multitude was again torn, shattered, dispersed or slain: only ten or twelve men crossed to take shelter under the rocks at the brink of the river. The skirmishing was then renewed, yet a French surgeon, coming to the very foot of the bridge, waved a handkerchief and commenced dressing the wounded under the hottest fire; nor was the brave man’s touching appeal unheeded, every musket turned from him, although his still undaunted countrymen were preparing for a third attempt, a last effort, which was made indeed, yet with fewer numbers and less energy, for the impossibility of forcing the passage was become apparent. The combat was however continued. By the French as a point of honour, to cover the escape of those who had passed the bridge; by the English from ignorance of their object. One of the enemy’s guns was dismantled, a field magazine exploded, and many continued to fall on both sides until about four o’clock, when torrents of rain caused a momentary cessation of fire, the men amongst the rocks then escaped to their own side, the fight ceased and Craufurd retired in the night behind the Pinhel river. Forty-four Portuguese, two hundred and seventy-two British, including twenty-eight officers, were killed, wounded, or taken; and it was at first supposed that half a company of the 52nd, posted in