CHAPTER XXVI. THE LANDING AT ABOUKIR
We must now ask our reader to leave for a season this scene of plot andintrigue, and turn with us to a very different picture. The same morningwhich on the iron-bound coast of Ireland broke in storm and hurricane,dawned fair and joyous over the shady shores of Egypt, and scarcelyruffled the long rolling waves as they swept into the deep bay ofAboukir. Here now a fleet of one hundred and seventy ships lay atanchor, the expedition sent forth by England to arrest the devouringambition of Buonaparte, and rescue the land of the Pyramids frombondage.
While our concern here is less with the great event than with thefortune of one of its humble followers, we would fain linger a littleover the memory of this glorious achievement of our country's arms. Forabove a week after the arrival of the fleet, the gale continued toblow with unabated fury; a sea mountains high rolled into the bay,accompanied by sudden squalls of such violence that the largest shipsof the fleet could barely hold on by their moorings, while many smallerones were compelled to slip their cables, and stand out to sea. If thedamage and injury were not important enough to risk the success of theexpedition, the casualties ever inseparable from such events threw agloom over the whole force, a feeling grievously increased by the firsttidings that met them,--the capture of one of the officers and a boat'screw, who were taken while examining the shore, and seeking out thefittest spot for a landing.
On the 7th of March the wind and sea subsided, the sky cleared, and aglorious sunset gave promise of a calm, so soon to be converted into astorm not less terrible than that of the elements.
As day closed, the outlying ships had all returned to their moorings,the accidents of the late gale were repaired, and the soaked sails hungflapping in the evening breeze to dry; while the decks swarmed withmoving figures, all eagerly engaged in preparation for that event whicheach well knew could not now be distant. How many a heart throbbedhigh with ecstasy and hope, that soon was to be cold; how many an eyewandered over that strong line of defences along the shore, that neverwas to gaze upon another sunset!
And yet, to mark the proud step, the flashing look the eager speechof all around, the occasion might have been deemed one of triumphantpleasure rather than the approach of an enterprise full of hazard anddanger. The disappointments which the storm had excited, by delaying thelanding, were forgotten altogether, or only thought of to heighten thedelight which now they felt.
The rapid exchange of signals between the line-of-battle ships showedthat preparations were on foot; and many were the guesses and surmisescurrent as to the meaning of this or that ensign, each reading themystery by the light of his inward hopes. On one object, however, everyeye was fixed with a most intense anxiety. This was an armed launch,which, shooting out from beneath the shadow of a three-decker, sweptacross the bay with muffled oars. Nothing louder than a whisper brokethe silence on board of her, as they stole along the still water, andheld on their course towards the shore. Through the gloom of the fallingnight, they were seen to track each indenture of the coast,--now lyingon their oars to take soundings; now delaying, to note some spot ofmore than ordinary strength. It was already midnight before "thereconnoissance" was effected, and the party returned to the ship, wellacquainted with the formidable preparations of the enemy, and all thehazard that awaited the hardy enterprise. The only part of the coastapproachable by boats was a low line of beach, stretching away to theleft, from the castle of Aboukir, and about a mile in extent; and thiswas commanded by a semicircular range of sand-hills, on which the Frenchbatteries were posted, and whose crest now glittered with the bivouacfires of a numerous army. From the circumstances of the ground, theguns were so placed as to be able to throw a cross-fire over the bay;while a lower range of batteries protected the shore, the terribleeffect of whose practice might be seen on the torn and furrowedsands,--sad presage of what a landing party might expect! Besides theseprecautions, the whole breastwork bristled with cannon and mortarsof various calibre, embedded in the sand; nor was a single positionundefended, or one measure of resistance omitted, which might increasethe hazard of an attacking force.
Time was an important object with the English general; reinforcementswere daily looked for by the French; indeed it was rumored that tidingshad come of their having sailed from Toulon, for, with an unparalleledaudacity and fortune combined, a French frigate had sailed the precedingday through the midst of our fleet, and, amid the triumphant cheeringsof the shore batteries, hoisted the tricolor in the face of ourassembled ships. Scarcely had the launch reached the admiral's ship,when a signal ordered the presence of all officers in command to attenda council of war. The proceedings were quickly terminated, and inless than half an hour, the various boats were seen returning to theirrespective ships, the resolution having been taken to attack that verymorning, or, in the words of the general order, "to bring the troops assoon as possible before the enemy." Never were tidings more welcomed;the delay, brief as it was, had stimulated the ardor of the men to thehighest degree, and they actually burned with impatience to be engaged.The dispositions for attack were simple, and easily followed. A sloop ofwar, anchored just beyond the reach of cannon-shot, was named as a pointof rendezvous. By a single blue light at her mizzen, the boats were tomove towards her; three lights at the maintop would announce that theywere all assembled; a single gun would then be the signal to make forthe shore.
Strict orders were given that no unusual lights should be seen from theships, nor any unwonted sight or sound betray extraordinary preparation.The men were mustered by the half-light in use on board, the ammunitiondistributed in silence, and every precaution taken that the attackshould have the character of a surprise. These orders were well andclosely followed; but so short was the interval, and so manifoldthe arrangements, it was already daylight before the rendezvous wasaccomplished.
If the plan of debarkation was easily comprehended, that of the attackwas not less so. Nelson once summed up a "general order," by saying,"The captain will not make any mistake who lays his ship alongside ofan enemy of heavier metal." So Abercrombie's last instructions were,"Whenever an officer may be in want of orders, let him assault anenemy's battery." These were to be carried by the bayonet alone, and, ofthe entire force, not one man landed with a loaded musket.
A few minutes after seven the signal was given, and the boats movedoff. The sun was high, a light breeze fanned the water, the flags andstreamers of the ships-of-war floated proudly out as the flotilla stoodfor the shore; in glorious rivalry they pulled through the surf, eacheager to be first, and all the excitement of a race was imparted to thisenterprise of peril.
Conspicuous among the leading boats were two, whose party, equipped in abrilliant uniform of blue and silver, formed part of the cavalry force.The inferiority of the horses supplied was such that only two hundredand fifty were mounted, and the remainder had asked and obtainedpermission to serve on foot. A considerable portion of this corps wasmade up of volunteers; and several young men of family and fortune weresaid to serve in the ranks, and from the circumstance of being commandedby the Knight of Gwynne, were called "Darcy's Volunteers." It was aglorious sight to see the first boat of this party, in the stern ofwhich sat the old Knight himself, shoot out ahead, and amid the cheeringof the whole flotilla, lead the way in shore.
Returning the various salutes which greeted him, the old man satbare-headed, his silvery hair floating back in the breeze, and his manlyface beaming with high enthusiasm.
"A grand spectacle for an unconcerned eyewitness," said an officer tohis neighbor.
The words reached Darcy's ears, and he called out, "I differ with you,Captain. To enjoy all the thrilling ecstasy of this scene a man musthave his stake on the venture. It is our personal hopes and fears arenecessary ingredients in the exalted feeling. I would not stand onyonder cliff and look on, for millions; but such a moment as this isglorious." As he spoke, a long line of flame ran along the heights,and at the same instant the whole air trembled as the entire batteriesopened their fire. The sea hisse
d and glittered with round shot andshell; while, in a perfect hurricane, they rained on every side.
The suddenness of the cannonade, and the confusion consequent on thecasualties that followed, seemed for a moment to retard the advance, or,as it appeared to the French, to deter the invading force altogether;for as they perceived some of the boats to lie on their oars, and otherswithdrawn to the assistance of their comrades, a deafening cheerof triumph rang out from the batteries, and was heard over the bay.Scarcely had it been uttered when the British answered by another, whosehoarse roar bespoke the coming vengeance.
The flotilla had now advanced within a line of buoys laid down to directthe fire, and here grape and musketry mingled their clattering withthe deeper thunder of cannon. "This is sharp work, gentlemen," said theKnight, as the spray twice splashed over the boat, from shot that fellclose by. "They 'll have our range soon. Do you mark how accurately theshots fall over that line of surf?"
"That's a sand-bank, sir," said the coxswain who steered. "There 'sbarely draught of water there for heavy launches."
"I perceive there is some shelter yonder beneath that large battery."
"They can trust that spot," cried the coxswain, smiling. "There 's aheavy surf there, and no boat could live through it. But stay, there isa boat about to try it." Every eye was now turned towards a yawl which,with twelve oars, vigorously headed on through the very midst of abroken and foam-covered tract of water, where jets of sea sprang upfrom hidden rocks, and cross currents warred and contended against eachother.
The hazardous venture was not alone watched by those iu the boats,but, from the crowning ridge of batteries, from every cliff and crag onshore, wondering enemies gazed on the hardihood of the daring.
"They'll do it yet, sir,--they 'll do it yet," cried the coxswain, wildwith excitement. "There's deep water inside that reef."
The words were scarcely out, when a tremendous cannonade opened from thelarge battery. The balls fell on every side of the boat, and at lengthone struck her on the stem, rending her open from end to end, andscattering her shivered planks over the surfy sea.
A shout, a cheer, a drowning cry from the sinking crew, and all wasover.
So sudden and so complete was this dreadful catastrophe, that they whowitnessed it almost doubted the evidence of their senses, nor were thevictors long to enjoy this triumph; the very discharge which sunkthe boat having burst a mortar, and ignited a mass of powder near, aterrible explosion followed. A dense column of smoke and sand filled theair; and when this cleared away, the face of the battery was perceivedto be rent in two.
"We can do it now, lads," cried Darcy. "They 'll never recover from theconfusion yonder in time to see us." A cheer met his words, and thecoxswain turned the boat's head in the direction of the reef.
Closely followed by their comrades in the second boat, they pulled alongthrough the surf like men whose lives were on the venture; four arms toevery oar, the craft bounded through the boiling tide; twice the keelwas felt to graze the rocky bed, but the strong impulse of the boat's"way" carried her through, and soon they floated in the still waterwithin the reef.
"It shoals fast here," cried the coxswain.
"What's the depth?" asked Darcy.
"Scarcely above three feet. If we throw over our six-pounder--"
"No, no. It's but wading, after all. Keep your muskets dry, movetogether, and we shall be the first to touch the shore."
As he said this, he sprang over the side of the boat into the sea, andwaving his hat above his head, began his progress towards the land."Come along, gentlemen, we 've often done as much when salmon-fishingin our own rivers." Thus, lightly jesting, and encouraging his party, hewaded on, with all the seeming carelessness of one bent on some schemeof pleasure.
The large batteries had no longer the range; but a dreadful fire ofmusketry was poured in from the heights, and several brave fellows fell,mortally wounded, ere the strand was reached. Cheered by the approvingshouts of thousands from the boats, they at length touched the beach;and wild and disorderly as had been their advance when breasting thewaves, no sooner had they landed than discipline resumed its sway, andthe words, "Fall in, men!" were obeyed with the prompt precision of aparade. A strong body of tirailleurs, scattered along the base of thesand-hills and through the irregularities of the ground, galled themwith a dropping and destructive fire as they formed; nor was it tillan advanced party had driven these back, that the dispositions could bewell and properly taken. By this time several other boats had touchedthe shore, and already detachments from the Fortieth, Twenty-eighth, andForty-second regiments were drawn up along the beach, and, from these,frequent cries and shouts were heard, encouraging and cheering the"Volunteers," who alone, of all the force, had yet come to closequarters with the enemy.
A brief but most dangerous interval now followed; for the boats,assailed by a murderous fire, had sustained severe losses, and a shortdelay inevitably followed, assisting the wounded, or rescuing those whohad fallen into the sea. Had the French profited by this pause, to beardown upon the small force now drawn up inactive on the beach, the fateof that great achievement might have been perilled; as it happened,however, nothing was further from their thought than coming intoimmediate contact with the British, and they contented themselves witha distant but still destructive cannonade. It is not impossible that theaudacity of those who first landed, and who--a mere handful--assumed theoffensive, might have been the reason of this conduct, certain it is,the boats, for a time retarded, were permitted again to move forward anddisembark then; men, with no other resistance than the fire from thebatteries.
The three first regiments which gained the land were, strangely enough,representatives of the three different nationalities of the Empire;and scarcely were the words, "Forward! to the assault!" given, when anemulative struggle began, which should first reach the top and crossbayonets with the French. On the left, and nearest to the causewaythat led up the heights, stood the Highlanders. These formed under anoverwhelming shower of grape and musketry, and, with pibrochs playing,marched steadily forward. The Fortieth made an effort to pass them,which caused a momentary confusion, ending in an order for this regimentto halt, and support the Forty-second; and while this was taking place,the Twenty-eighth rushed to the ascent in broken parties, and, followingthe direction the "Volunteers" had taken in pursuit of the tirailleurs,they mounted the heights together.
So suddenly was the tirailleur force repelled, that they had scarcelytime to give the alarm, when the Twenty-eighth passed the crest of thehill, and prepared to charge. The Irish regiment, glorying in being thefirst to reach the top, cheered madly, and bore down. The Frenchpoured in a single volley, and fell back; not to retreat, but to enticepursuit. The stratagem succeeded. The Twenty-eighth pursued them hotly,and almost at once found themselves engaged in a narrow gorge ofthe sand-hills, and exposed to a terrific cross-fire. To retreat wasimpossible; their own weight drove them on, and the deafening cheersof their comrades drowned every word of command. Grape at half-musketdistance ploughed through their ranks, while one continuous crash ofsmall-arms showed the number and closeness of their foes.
It was at this moment that Darcy, whose party was advancing by a smallergorge, ascended a height, and beheld the perilous condition of hiscountrymen. There was but one way to liberate them, and that involvedtheir own destruction: to throw themselves on the French flank, andwhile devoting themselves to death, enable the Twenty-eighth to retireor make head against the opposing force. While Darcy, in a few hurriedwords, made known his plan to those around him, the opportunity for itsemployment most strikingly presented itself. A momentary repulse ofthe French had driven a part of their column to the highroad leading toAlexandria, where already several baggage carts and ammunition wagonswere gathered. This movement seemed so like retreat that Darcy'ssanguine nature was deceived, and calling out, "Come along, lads,-theyare running already!" he dashed onward, followed by his gallant band.His attack, if inefficient for want of numbers, was critical in poin
tof time. The same instant that the French were assailed by him in flank,the Forty-second had gained the summit and attacked them in front: freshbattalions each moment arrived, and now along the entire crest of theridge the fight raged fiercely. One after the other the batteries werestormed, and carried by our infantry at the bayonet's point; and in lessthan an hour from the time of landing, the British flag waved over sevenof the nine heavy batteries.
The battle, severe as it was on the heights, was main-tained with evengreater slaughter on the shore. The French, endeavoring too late torepair the error of not resisting the actual landing, had now thrown animmense force by a flank movement on the British battalions; and thisattack of horse, foot, and artillery combined, was, for its duration,the great event of the day. For a brief space it appeared impossible forthe few regiments to sustain the shock of such an encounter; and had itnot been for the artillery of the gunboats stationed along the shore,they must have yielded. Their fire, however, was terribly destructive,sweeping through the columns as they came up, and actually cutting lanesin the dense squadrons.
Reinforcements poured in, besides, at every instant; and after a bloodyand anxious struggle, the British were enabled to take the offensive,and advance against their foes. The French, already weakened by loss anddispirited by failure, did not await the conflict, but retired slowly,it is true, and in perfect order, on one of the roads leading into thegreat highway to Alexandria.
Victory had even more unequivocally pronounced for the British on theheights. By this time every battery was in their possession. The enemywere in full flight towards Alexandria, the tumultuous mass occasionallyassailed by our light infantry, to whom, from our deficiency in cavalry,was assigned the duty of harassing the retreat. It was here that Darcy'sVolunteers, now reduced to one third of their original number, highlydistinguished themselves, not only attacking the flank of the retiringenemy, but seizing every opportunity of ground to assail them in frontand retard their flight.
In one of these onslaughts, for such they were, the Volunteers becameinextricably entangled with the enemy, and although fighting with thedesperation of tigers, volley after volley tore through them; and theFrench, maddened by the loss they had already suffered at their hands,hastened to finish them by the bayonet. It was only by the interventionof the French officers, a measure in itself not devoid of peril, thatany were spared; and those few, bleeding and mangled, were hurriedalong as prisoners, the only triumph of that day's battle! The strangespectacle of an affray in the very midst of a retiring column was seenby the British in pursuit, and the memory of this scene is preservedamong the incidents of that day's achievements.
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Many and desperate attempts were made to rescue the prisoners. TheFrench, however, received the charges with deadly volleys, and as theirflanks were now covered by a cloud of tirailleurs, they were enabled tocontinue their retreat on Alexandria, protected by the circumstances ofthe ground, every point of which they had favorably occupied. The battlewas now over; guns, ammunition and stores were all landed; on theheights the English ensign waved triumphantly; and, far as the eye couldreach, the French masses were seen in flight, to seek shelter within thelines of Alexandria.
It was a glorious moment as the last column ascended the cliffs, tofind their gallant comrades masters of the French position in its entireextent. Here, now, two brigades reposed with piled arms, guns, mortars,camp equipage, and military chests strewed on every side, all attestingthe completeness of a victory which even a French bulletin could hardlyventure to disavow. It is perhaps fortunate that, at times like this,the feeling of high excitement subdues all sense of the regret sonatural to scenes of suffering; and thus, amid many a sight and sound ofwoe, glad shouts of triumph were raised, and heartfelt bursts of joyousrecognition broke forth as friends met, and clasped each other's hands.Incidents of the battle, traits of individual heroism, were recorded onevery side: anecdotes then told for the first time, to be remembered,many a year after, among the annals of regimental glory!
It is but seldom, at such moments, that men can turn from the theme oftriumph to think of the more disastrous events of the day; and yeta general feeling of sorrow prevailed on the subject of the braveVolunteers, of whose fate none could bring any tidings; some assertingthat they had all fallen to a man on the road leading to Alexandria,others affirming that they were carried off prisoners by the Frenchcavalry.
A party of light infantry, who had closely followed the enemy tillnightfall, had despatched some of their wounded to the rear; and bythese the news came, that in an open space beside the high-road theground was covered with bodies in the well-known blue and silver of theVolunteers. One only of these exhibited signs of life; and him theyhad placed among the wounded in one of the carts, and brought back withthem. As will often happen, single instances of suffering excite more ofcompassionate pity than wide-spread affliction; and so here. When deathand agony were on every hand,--whole wagons filled with maimed and dyingcomrades,--a closely wedged group gathered around the dying Volunteer,their saddened faces betraying emotions that all the terrible scenes ofthe day had never evoked.
"It 's no use, sir," said the surgeon, to the field-officer who hadcalled him to the spot. "There is internal bleeding, besides thisghastly sabre-cut."
"Who knows him?" said the officer, looking around; but none made answer."Can no one tell his name?"
There was a silence for a few seconds; when the dying man lifted hisfailing eyes upwards, and turned them slowly around on the group. Aslight tremor shook his lips, as if with an effort to speak; but nosound issued. Yet in the terrible eagerness of his features might beseen the working of a spirit fiercely struggling for utterance.
"Yes, my poor fellow," said the officer, stooping down beside him, andtaking his hand. "I was asking for your name."
A faint smile and a slight nod of the head seemed to acknowledge thespeech.
"He is speaking,--hush! I hear his voice," cried the officer.
An almost inaudible murmur moved his lips; then a shivering shook hisframe, and his head fell heavily back.
"What is this?" said the officer..
"Death," said the surgeon, with the solemn calm of one habituated tosuch scenes. "His last words were strange-, did you hear them?"
"I thought he said 'Court-martial.'"
The surgeon nodded, and turned to move away.
"See here, sir," said a sergeant, as opening the dead man's coat he drewforth a white handkerchief, "the poor fellow was evidently trying towrite his name with his own blood; here are some letters clear enough.L-e-o, and this is an n--or m--"
"I know him now," cried another. "This was the Volunteer who joined usat Malta; but Colonel Darcy got him exchanged into his own corps. Hisname was Leonard."
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