The old command, "Charge!" was distinctly heard, and the red-coats rushed
with fixed bayonets to storm the stockade. A few cuts, kicks and pulling down,
and the job was done too quickly for their wonted ardour, for they actually
thrust their bayonets on the body of the dead and wounded strewed about
on the ground. A wild "hurrah!" burst out and 'the Southern Cross'
was torn down, I should say, among their laughter, such as if it had been
a prize from a May-pole.
Of the armed diggers, some made off the best way they could, others surrendered
themselves prisoners, and were collected in groups and marched down the gully.
The Indian dragoons, sword in hand, rifle-pistols cocked, took charge
of them all, and brought them in chains to the lock-up.
Chapter LVII.
Dirigat Dominus Reginum Nostram.
The red-coats were now ordered to 'fall in;' their bloody work was over,
and were marched off, dragging with them the 'Southern Cross.'
Their dead, as far as I did see, were four, and a dozen wounded,
including Captain Wise, the identical one, I think whom I speak of in relating
the events of Tuesday evening, November 28.
Dead and wounded had been fetched up in carts, waiting on the road, and all
red-things hastened to Ballaarat. The following is for the edification of all
the well-affected and well-disposed of the present and future generation:-
V.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133