The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 2Sienkiewicz, Henryk
History
The Deluge: An Historical Novel of Poland, Sweden, and Russia. Vol. 2
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Historical fiction; Poland -- History -- John II Casimir, 1648-1668 -- Fiction
The officers were deliberating on a sortie which Charnyetski advised;
but Zamoyski opposed, insisting, with reason, that at such important
works the enemy must have secured themselves sufficiently, and must
surely hold infantry in readiness. They resolved merely to fire toward
the north and south, whence the greatest noise came. It was impossible
to see the result in the darkness.
Day broke at last, and its first rays exposed the works of the Swedes.
North and south of the fortress were intrenchments, on which some
thousands of men were employed. These intrenchments stood so high that
to the besieged the summits of them seemed on a line with the walls of
the fortress. In the openings at the top were seen great jaws of guns,
and the soldiers standing behind them looked at a distance like swarms
of yellow wasps.
The morning Mass was not over in the church when unusual thunder shook
the air; the window-panes rattled; some of them dropped out of the
frames from shaking alone, and were broken with a sharp shiver on the
stone floor; and the whole church was filled with dust which rose from
fallen plaster.
The great siege guns had spoken.
A terrible fire began, such as the besieged had not experienced. At the
end of Mass all rushed out on the walls and roofs. The preceding storms
seemed innocent play in comparison with this terrible letting loose of
fire and iron.
The smaller pieces thundered in support of the siege guns. Great bombs,
pieces of cloth steeped in pitch, torches, and fiery ropes were flying.
Balls twenty-six pounds in weight tore out battlements, struck the
walls of buildings; some settled in them, others made great holes,
tearing off plaster and bricks. The walls surrounding the cloister
began to shake here and there and lose pieces, and struck incessantly
by new balls threatened to fall. The buildings of the cloister were
covered with fire.
The trumpeters on the tower felt it totter under them. The church
quaked from continuous pounding, and candles fell out of the sockets at
some of the altars.
Water was poured in immense quantities on the fires that had begun, on
the blazing torches, on the walls, on the fire balls; and formed,
together with the smoke and the dust, rolls of steam so thick that
light could not be seen through them. Damage was done to the walls and
buildings. The cry, “It is burning, it is burning!” was heard oftener
amid the thunder of cannon and the whistle of bullets. At the northern
bastion the two wheels of a cannon were broken, and one injured cannon
was silent. A ball had fallen into a stable, killed three horses, and
set fire to the building. Not only balls, but bits of grenades, were
falling as thickly as rain on the roofs, the bastions, and the walls.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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