“While these signals were passing, I was employed in taking a careful survey with my glasses. This is what I saw, looking from right to left. The green and white lance pennons of a detachment of the hussars belonging to the 32nd Division came fluttering round the shoulder of the hill topped by the grey tower of St. Lawrence. Immediately below us a Jäeger battalion was winding through Steeple Village like a dark green snake. Away to my left front the helmets of the 101st Grenadier Regiment twinkled over the black masses of its three battalions as they wound downhill towards the village of Latchingdon, lying in a tree-shrouded hollow. Maldon was more distinct now, but there was nothing to indicate the presence of our men, though not so very far down the river the lofty mast of the _Ægir_, with its three military tops, was distinguishable over a line of willows. As I lowered my field-glasses the Prince beckoned me. ‘Von Pabst,’ ordered he, as I raised my hand to the salute, ‘take half a dozen troopers, ride to Maldon, and report to me the situation there. I shall be at Latchingdon,’ added he, indicating its position on the map, ‘or possibly on the road between that and Maldon.’ “Followed by my six Jäegers in their big copper helmets, I dashed away on my mission, and before long was nearing my destination. Maldon perched on its knoll, with its three church towers and gabled houses, brought to my mind one of the old engravings of sixteenth-century cities by Merian. Nothing indicated the approach of war till we were challenged by a sentry, who stepped from behind a house at the entrance to a straggling street. We trotted on till just about to turn in the main street, when ‘bang’ went a straggling volley from the right. Shot after shot replied, and this told me that our marines had arrived. Then a score of khaki-clad men ran across the entrance of the side street up which we were approaching. ‘The English at last!’ thought I. It was too late to turn back. One or two of the enemy had caught sight of us as they rushed by, though most of them were too busily engaged in front to observe us. So with a shout of ‘Vorwarts!’ I stuck in my spurs, and with my six troopers charged into the middle of them, though I had no idea of how many there might be up the street. There was a tremendous clatter and banging of rifles. I cut down one fellow who ran his bayonet into my wallet. At the same time I heard a loud German ‘Hoch!’ from our right, and caught sight of a body of marines coming up the street at the double. It was all over in a moment. There were not more than thirty ‘khakis’ all told. Half a dozen lay dead or wounded on the ground, some disappeared up side alleys, and others were made prisoners by the marines. It appeared afterwards that on the first boat-load landing, about an hour previously, the alarm had reached a local Volunteer officer, who had managed to collect some of his men and get them into uniform.