Tom Cringles Log | Page 8

brig, all except the artillery, who had to scamper off, running the gauntlet on the crest of the embankment until they got beyond the range of the carronades. I was conveyed between two grenadiers along the water's edge so long as the ship was firing; but when that ceased, I was clapped on one of the limbers of the field--guns, and strapped down to it between two of the artillerymen.
We rattled along, until we came up to the French bivouac, where, round a large fire, kindled in what seemed to have been a farmyard, were assembled about fifty or sixty French soldiers. Their arms were piled under the low projecting roof of an outhouse, while the fire flickered upon their dark figures, and glanced on their bright accoutrements, and lit up the wall of the house that composed one side of the square. I was immediately marched between a file of men into a small room, where the commanding officer of the detachment was seated at a table, a blazing wood fire roaring in the He was a genteel, slender, dark man, with very large black mustaches, and fine sparkling black eyes, and had apparently just dismounted, for the mud was fresh on his boots and trowsers. The latter were blue, with a broad gold lace down the seam, and fastened by a strap under his boot, from which projected a long fixed spur, which to me was remarkable as an unusual dress for a Dire, the British army being, at the time I write of, still in the age of breeches and gaiters, or tall boots, long cues and pipeclay--that is, those troops which I had seen at home, although I believe the great Duke had already relaxed a number of these absurdities in Spain.
His single--breasted coat was buttoned up to his throat, and without an inch of lace except on his crimson collar, which fitted close round his neck, and was richly embroidered with gold acorns and oak leaves, as were the crimson cuffs to his sleeves. He wore two immense and very handsome gold epaulets.
"My good boy," said he, after the officer who had captured me had told his story--"so your Government thinks the Emperor is retreating from the Elbe?"
I was a tolerable French scholar as times went, and answered him as well as I could.
"I have said nothing about that, sir; but, from your question, I presume you command the rear--guard, Colonel?"
"How strong is your squadron on the river?" said he, parrying the question.
"There is only one sloop of war, sir"--and I spoke the truth.
He looked at me, and smiled incredulously; and then continued "I don't command the rear--guard, sir--but I waste time--are the boats ready?"
He was answered in the affirmative.
"Then set fire to the houses, and let off the rockets; they will see them at Cuxhaven--men," fall in--march--and off we all trundled towards the river again.
When we arrived there, we found ten Blankanese boats, two of them very large, and fitted with sliding platforms. The four fieldpieces were run on board, two into each; one hundred and fifty men embarked in them and the other craft, which I found partly loaded with sacks of corn. I was in one of the smallest boats with the colonel. When we were all ready to shove off, "Lafont," he said, "are the men ready with their couteaux?"
"They are, sir," replied the sergeant.
"Then cut the horses' throats--but no firing." A few bubbling groans, and some heavy falls, and a struggling splash or two in the water, showed that the poor artillery horses had been destroyed.
The wind was fair up the river, and away we bowled before it. It was clear to me that the colonel commanding the post had overrated our strength, and, under the belief that we had cut him off from Cuxhaven, he had determined on falling back on Hamburgh.
When the morning broke, we were close to the beautiful bank below Altona. The trees were beginning to assume the russet hue of autumn, and the sun shone gaily on the pretty villas and bloomin Gartens on the hill side, while here and there a Chinese pagoda, or other fanciful pleasure--house, with its gilded trellised work, and little bells depending from the eaves of its many roofs, glancing like small golden balls, rose from out the fast thinning recesses of the woods.
But there was no life in the scene--'twas "Greece, but living Greece no more,"--not a fishing--boat was near, scarcely a solitary figure crawled along the beach.
"What is that?" after we had passed Blankanese, said the colonel quickly. "Who are those?" as a group of three of four men presented themselves at a sharp turning of the road, that wound along the foot of the hill close to the shore.
"The uniform of the Prussians," said one.
"Of the Russians,"