"We then advanced again; but before we had moved many paces a perfect swarm of Polish lancers, supported by several squadrons of chasseurs-a-cheval, charged the rear of the brigade and threw the four regiments into confusion. Separated and taken at a terrible disadvantage, our men had to act for themselves; so they formed groups of six or eight, and thus withstood the furious onslaught of the savage Poles. Many of the officers joined the men, and prepared to sell their lives dearly; for quarter was neither given nor asked for. Captain Clarke, his junior subaltern, Ensign Hay, and I, found ourselves in the midst of a group composed of a dozen men of our own company. Clarke snatched up a musket and blazed away as fast as he could ram home the cartridges, encouraging the men a while with words of approval or exhortation. Ensign Hay followed the captain's example, and fired as hard as he could fire; and I too abandoned my pike for `Old Brown Bess,' and may safely say that I never made better practice. "All this time the Polish lancers were wheeling round the groups, stabbing at us with their long lances whenever they got a chance. It was reported afterwards that they had been promised a doubloon apiece if they broke the British line. Gradually our men became mixed up with these lancers and with the chasseurs and French linesmen; and every one of us was thrusting and parrying, hacking and guarding, loading and firing, to the best of his ability. Never have I witnessed such a melee. "I saw a savage-looking, bare-headed lancer attack our ensign and run him through the lungs, the lance coming out at his back. He fell, but regained his feet immediately. The Pole again delivered point, his lance striking Hay's breast-bone; down he went as if shot, whilst his assailant pitched over his horse's head and rolled over in the mud beside him. I ran forward to the ensign's assistance, but came in collision with a chasseur-a-cheval, who cut at me with his sabre and brought me on my knees. I staggered up and drove my bayonet through his leg, pinning him to the saddle. He then cut at me again, inflicting a severe wound on my head and partially depriving me of my senses. At that moment my adversary's horse was killed by a musket ball, and in its fall the poor brute crushed me to the ground. I struggled hard to regain my feet, but the weight of the dead charger kept me down, and so I was placed _hors-de-combat_ for the rest of the day. "In this desperate hand-to-hand encounter Colborne's brigade suffered terribly, for of the four regiments composing it the 31st alone was able to form square when the French cavalry charged us. The 3rd Buffs, the 48th, and `Ours' were nearly annihilated.