Not one of those who in the previous attacks had fallen wounded was now alive. The remorseless Russians--assassins rather than soldiers--had bayonetted every one who showed signs of life. The little battery was choked with heaps of dead. Englishmen and Russians lay as they fell stiff in their blood, and disfigured by the agonies of death. Not one was left to tell his victorious comrades, who leaped shouting into the redoubt, how bravely their companions in arms had disputed its possession, how dearly the enemy had purchased a temporary success, or how basely that success had been consummated by the most brutal murder of wounded and unarmed men. But the Russians were not disposed to submit to the loss of this important position which they had made so many efforts to retain. Fresh legions were launched against the two regiments who had been thus far successful; and in irresistible strength, still another attempt was made to regain the post. Against such numbers it was impossible to contend successfully. The brave holders of the redoubt fought desperately, with that unyielding pertinacity for which the British infantry, beyond any soldiery in the world, is distinguished. But the shot from the batteries on the hills beyond the river swept through their lines; on every hand brave fellows fell pierced with bullets, or mangled by exploding shells. The enemy was tenfold their number, and swept on like a torrent against their feeble defence. After a brief but most heroic struggle, the noble remnant of the gallant 20th and 47th yielded to a force they could no longer withstand, and retreated to the main body, leaving the Russians for the third time the masters of the two-gun battery.