The situation of the besieged was now most desperate. The town seemed all but in the possession of the enemy. The bastion opposite the southern ford, about fifty yards from the bridge, was levelled, and practicable to infantry and cavalry. The ford itself was easily passable, for the river was unusually low for the season. The town was a heap of smouldering ruins, and the castle,--with the single exception of the Connaught Tower--was beaten down to the level of the besiegers' guns. Beams had been extended across the last broken arch of the bridge, the planking was partially set, while the fire of their forty-seven guns was fierce and active as ever. Still the Irish relaxed neither in courage nor intrepidity. Though but one gun alone sent an occasional response to the incessant roar of nine batteries, sweeping every foot of their intrenchments, "they worked like horses, checking the fire within the town; carrying fascines to fill their trenches;" and exhibited a courage and endurance "such as was never excelled by man." Such was the situation on both sides through the night of the 27th:--the one in the face of inevitable death trying to reconstruct their shattered defences, and the other in exultation preparing to force the river at sunrise the next morning. The night passed on, and the morning rose bright and clear above the river. The besieged seemed to have exhausted all the means of defence. Some lay close in the cover of their trenches, and others drawn up behind the western wall of the castle, waiting for the approaching conflict. The enemy alone were at work. The planking was nearly completed across the last broken arch of the bridge. The fire from their right and left traversed its western end between their workmen and the besieged, and their grenadiers were advanced along the bridge waiting for the expected signal. At this moment a sudden commotion was observable in the Irish quarters, and a simultaneous shout rent the air, as eleven men, cased in armor, were seen to clear their trenches, and bear directly for the bridge. A silence still as death fell over the besiegers and besieged, and for a moment all seemed spellbound. In another the noble fellows had reached the bridge, and "with a strength and courage beyond what men were thought capable of," commenced to tear away the planks and beams, and cast them into the river. The amazement of the English soldiers soon gave way to the stern necessity of war. A discharge of great and small guns swept the bridge, and the devoted men passed forever from the earth! Undeterred by their fate, eleven more sprang forward to complete the work! Another peal rang out as before, a cloud of smoke enveloped them for a moment, and, clearing away, it was found that their work was completely accomplished, that the bridge was rendered impassable, and that two of the eleven had escaped within their intrenchments.[62]