In 1781, in the army of Lieutenant-General Sir Eyre Coote, the regiment took the field, although sorely weakened by sickness and the sword. After considerable man[oe]uvring on both sides, the two armies confronted each other on the plains of Porto Novo. The British, not amounting to 8000 men, of which the Seventy-third was the only Line regiment, were opposed to a vast host, exceeding 100,000. Notwithstanding our great inferiority in numbers, the enemy signally failed in every attempt to annihilate, as he imagined, the heroic band who fought beneath the banner of Albion. Discouraged and worn out with these repeated and unavailing assaults, the foe was only too glad to retire and escape from such a vain struggle, where superior numbers could make no impression on bravery and discipline, but only entailed disgrace and defeat. The excellent valour of the regiment on this critical occasion, received the warmest approbation of the Commander-in-chief. Sir Eyre Coote was particularly pleased with the gallantry of one of its pipers, who, amid the hottest of the fire, ceased not to cheer his comrades by the shrill scream of his bag-pipes, which was heard even above the din and roar of battle—so pleased, he exclaimed, “Well done, my brave fellow, you shall have silver pipes when the battle is over,” a promise which he most munificently fulfilled. Sir Eyre Coote always retained a warm interest in, strong attachment to, and confidence in the Highland regiments, which he learned to esteem as the flower of the British army. Having followed up this great victory by a series of further minor successes, the army, reinforced by a body of troops from the Bengal Presidency under Colonel Pearse, anew arrived upon the blood-stained plains of Perambaukam, so pregnant with melancholy associations, and which, yet reeking with the gore of the murdered brave, bore memorials of the disaster which had overtaken so many of their comrades but a year previous; stirred by these painful recollections, our army consecrated the spot to avenge thereon the butchery which had so lately bereaved them of their brethren. The foe, too, were inspired for the fight, but by a very different feeling. Superstition bade them believe their gods propitious to the spot, and, as with them, to give over the British as the victims of a new sacrifice. Thus impelled, it may well be inferred that the struggle was severe and bloody, although, as usual, British prowess triumphed.