Adventure stories, English; France -- History -- Consulate and First Empire, 1799-1815 -- Fiction; Soldiers of fortune -- Fiction
The leading boat was manned entirely by volunteers, and I could hear
from where I lay the names called aloud as the men stepped out from the
ranks. I could hear that the first point of attack was the island of
Eslar. So far there was a confirmation of my own guessing, and I did
not hesitate to assume the full credit of my skill from my comrades. In
truth, they willingly conceded all or even more than I asked for. Not a
stir was heard, not a sight seen, not a movement made of which I was not
expected to tell the cause and the import; and knowing that to
sustain my influence there was nothing for it but to affect a thorough
acquaintance with everything, I answered all their questions boldly and
unhesitatingly. I need scarcely observe that the corporal in comparison
sank into downright insignificance. He had already shown himself a
false guide, and none asked his opinion further, and I became the ruling
genius of the hour. The embarkation now went briskly forward; several
light field-guns were placed in the boats, and two or three large rafts,
capable of containing two companies each, were prepared to be towed
across by boats.
Exactly as the heavy hammer of the cathedral struck one, the first boat
emerged from the willows, and darting rapidly forward, headed for the
middle of the stream; another and another in quick succession followed,
and speedily were lost to us in the gloom; and now two four-oared
skiffs stood out together, having a raft, with two guns, in tow; by some
mischance, however, they got entangled in a side current, and the raft
swerving to one side, swept past the boats, carrying them down the
stream along with it. Our attention was not suffered to dwell on this
mishap, for at the same moment the flash and rattle of firearms told us
the battle had begun. Two or three isolated shots were first heard, and
then a sharp platoon-fire, accompanied by a wild cheer, that we well
knew came from our own fellows. One deep mellow boom of a large gun
resounded amidst the crash, and a slight streak of flame, higher up the
stream, showed that the shot came from the small island I have already
spoken of.
‘Listen, lads,’ said I; ‘that came from the “Fels Insel.” If they are
firing grape yonder, our poor fellows in the boats will suffer sorely
from it. By Jove, there is a crash!’
As I was speaking, a rattling noise like the sound of clattering timber
was heard, and with it a sharp, shrill cry of agony, and all was hushed.
‘Let’s at them, boys: they can’t be much above our own number. The
island is a mere rock,’ cried I to my comrades.
‘Who commands this party,’ said the corporal--‘you or I?’
‘You, if you lead us against the enemy,’ said I; ‘but I’ll take it if my
comrades will follow me. There goes another shot, lads--yes or no--now
is the time to speak.’
‘We’re ready,’ cried three, springing forward with one impulse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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