With yells of fierce triumph, like a pack of unkennelled blood-hounds, we could perceive the regiments of Merodé and Camargo swarming over the deserted breastwork, where their helmets and weapons flashed and glittered in the moonlight as they formed in some order and pursued us double quick. At that decisive moment they received a sudden check; for the gallant Baron of Klosterfiord, taking advantage of their partial formation, advanced against them with his troop, which was principally composed of sturdy Holsteiners. "Holstein, Holstein!" cried the baron, rising in his stirrups and brandishing his sword. "Holstein Glaube! Holstein Glaube!" cried the pistoliers, and with plumes of white horse-hair waving on their steel helmets, and the blue blades of their rapiers flashing in the moonlight, they swept forward; and their heavy horses--the large, dark, glossy bays of Holstein and Jutland--burst headlong into the Austrian ranks, and rode right through them. There was a tremendous crash--a yell--a horrible confusion, and a flashing of swords; then a discharge of fire-arms was followed by the sound of a trumpet, and the brave pistoliers rejoined us at a hand gallop, leaving only a few of their number behind them. It was, indeed, a brilliant charge! Captains M'Kenzie of Kildon, the Red M'Alpine, Sir Patrick Mackay, and the laird of Tulloch, with Lieutenant Stuart, and five ensigns, were severely wounded in this affair; so many officers had been killed that we had scarcely enough left to command our pikes; and the colonel's own company, which was almost entirely composed of young duinewassals, or Highland cavaliers of good family, was literally reduced to a skeleton. Between us and the enemy it was now a race for who should first reach Heilinghafen; but in rapidity of movement they were no match for the barekneed men of the Scottish mountains. CHAPTER XXXIX. THE NIGHT OF HORRORS AT HEILINGHAFEN. Without firing another shot, we reached Heilinghafen, and found the town in a state of unparalleled uproar. Terrified by the noise of the cannon and musketry at Oldenburg, and still more by the rapid advance of the enemy, the mariners of the Danish and Scottish ships, with their masters and mates, would not leave their anchorage to haul inshore and embark the troops, who were all crowded on the beach and mole--officers and soldiers, horse and foot, women, baggage, and pioneers, pikemen and musketeers, without formation or discipline, and struck with a panic by the vicinity of the foe--a panic which our appearance, as we advanced in dense column towards the beach or pier, with arms sloped and matches lighted, increased. I thought of Ernestine and Gabrielle; where were they amid all that frightful commotion?