With the life of the colonel ended the hopes of the French for that
day. The officers, we could perceive, did their duty--cheered,
encouraged, and drove on their men, but all in vain! We saw them pass
their swords through the bodies of the fugitives; but the men did not
even mind that--they would only be killed in their own way--they had
had fighting enough for one breakfast. The first impulse, the fiery
onset, had been checked by the fall of their brave leader, and _sauve
qui peut_, whether coming from the officers or drummers, no matter
which, terminated the affair, and we were left a little time to
breathe, and to count the number of our dead.
The moment the French perceived from their batteries that the attempt
had failed, and that the leader of the enterprise was dead, they
poured in an angry fire upon us. I stuck my hat on the bayonet of
my musket, and just showed it above the wall. A dozen bullets were
through it in a minute: very fortunately my head was not in it.
The fire of the batteries having ceased, which it generally did at
stated periods, we had an opportunity of examining the point of
attack. Scaling-ladders, and dead bodies lay in profusion. All the
wounded had been removed, but what magnificent "food for powder" were
the bodies which lay before us!--all, it would seem, picked men; not
one less than six feet, and some more: they were clad in their
grey _capots_, to render their appearance more _sombre_, and less
discernible in the twilight of the morning: and as the weather was
cold during the nights, I secretly determined to have one of those
great coats as a _chere amie_ to keep me warm in night-watches.
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