Adventure stories, English; France -- History -- Consulate and First Empire, 1799-1815 -- Fiction; Soldiers of fortune -- Fiction
‘Just so. There was a formidable battery in position there; and part of
the place was stockaded, as if they expected an attack. Still, there
are no vedettes, nor any lookout party, so far as we could see; and our
commanding officer didn’t well know what to make of it, whether it was
a point of concealed strength, or a position they were about to withdraw
from. At all events, it required caution; and, although the battle had
already begun on the right--as a loud cannonade and a heavy smoke
told us--he halted the brigade in the wood, and held a council of his
officers to see what was to be done. The resolution come to was, that
the voltigeurs should advance alone to explore the way, the rest of the
force remaining in ambush. We were to go out in sections of companies,
and, spreading over a wide surface, see what we could of the place.
‘Scarcely was the order given, when away we went--and it was now a race
who should be earliest up and exchange first shot with the enemy. Some
dashed forward over the open field in front; others skulked along by
dikes and ditches; some, again, dodged here and there, as cover offered
its shelter; but about a dozen, of whom I was one, kept the track of a
little cart-road, which, half concealed by high banks and furze, ran in
a zigzag line towards the village. I was always smart of foot; and now,
having newly joined the voltigeurs, was naturally eager to show myself
not unworthy of my new associates. I went on at my best pace, and being
lightly equipped--neither musket nor ball cartridge to carry--I soon
outstripped them all; and, after about twenty minutes’ brisk running,
saw in front of me a long, low farmhouse, the walls all pierced for
musketry, and two small eight-pounders in battery at the gate. I looked
back for my companions, but they were not up--not a man of them to be
seen. “No matter,” thought I, “they’ll be here soon; meanwhile, I’ll
make for that little copse of brushwood”; for a small clump of low furze
and broom was standing at a little distance in front of the farm.
All this time, I ought to say, not a man of the enemy was to be seen,
although I, from where I stood, could see the crenelated walls, and
the guns, as they were pointed. At a distance all would seem like an
ordinary peasant house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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