CHAPTER XXXVII. MONTE DI PACCIO
The disappointment we had suffered was not the only circumstance adverseto our expedition. The rain had now swollen the smallest rivulets tothe size of torrents; in many places the paths would be torn away andobliterated, and everywhere the difficulty of a night march enormouslyincreased. Giorgio, however, who was, perhaps, afraid of forfeiting hisreward, assured the general that these mountain streams subside evenmore rapidly than they rise; that such was the dryness of the soil, notrace of rain would be seen by sunset, and that we should have a calm,starry night; the very thing we wanted for our enterprise.
We did not need persuasion to believe all he said--the opinion chimed inwith our own wishes, and, better still, was verified to the veryletter by a glorious afternoon. Landward, the spectacle was perfectlyenchanting; the varied foliage of the Apennines, refreshed by the rain,glittered and shone in the sun's rays, while in the bay, the fleet, withsails hung out to dry, presented a grand and an imposing sight. Betterthan all, Monte Faccio now appeared quite near us; we could, even withthe naked eye, perceive all the defences, and were able to detect aparty of soldiers at work outside the walls, clearing, as it seemed,some watercourse that had been impeded by the storm. Unimportant as thelabour was, we watched it anxiously, for we thought that perhaps beforeanother sunset many a brave fellow's blood might dye that earth. Duringthe whole of that day, from some cause or other, not a shot had beenfired either from the land-batteries or the fleet, and as though a trucehad been agreed to, we sat watching each other's movements peacefullyand calmly.
'The Austrians would seem to have been as much deceived as ourselves,sir,' said an old artillery sergeant to me, as I strolled along thewalls at nightfall. 'The pickets last night were close to the glacis,but see, now they have fallen back a gunshot or more.'
'But they had time enough since to have resumed their old position,'said I, half doubting the accuracy of the surmise.
'Time enough, _parbleu!_ I should think so too! but when the white-coatsmanoeuvre, they write to Vienna to ask, "What's to be done next?"'
This passing remark, in which, with all its exaggeration, there lay agerm of truth, was the universal judgment of our soldiers on those ofthe Imperial army; and to the prevalence of the notion may be ascribedmuch of that fearless indifference with which small divisions of oursattacked whole army corps of the enemy. Bonaparte was the first to pointout this slowness, and to turn it to the best advantage.
'If our general ever intended a sortie, this would be the night for it,sir,' resumed he; 'the noise of those mountain streams would mask thesounds of a march, and even cavalry, if led with caution, might be inupon them before they were aware.'
This speech pleased me, not only for the judgment it conveyed, but as anassurance that our expedition was still a secret in the garrison.
On questioning the sergeant further, I was struck to find that he hadabandoned utterly all hope of ever seeing France again; such, he toldme, was the universal feeling of the soldiery. 'We know well, sir,that Massena is not the man to capitulate, and we cannot expect tobe relieved' And yet with this stern, comfortless conviction on theirminds--with hunger, and famine, and pestilence on every side--they neveruttered one word of complaint, not even a murmur of remonstrance. Whatwould Moreau's fellows say of us? What would the army of the Meusethink? These were the ever-present arguments against surrender; andthe judgment of their comrades was far more terrible to them than thegrapeshot of the enemy.
'But do you not think, when Bonaparte crosses the Alps, he will hastento our relief?'
'Not he, sir! I know him well. I was in the same troop with him, abombardier at the same gun. Bonaparte will never go after small gamewhere there's a nobler prey before him. If he does cross the Alps, he'llbe for a great battle under Milan; or, mayhap, march on Venice. He'snot thinking of our starved battalions here; he's planning some greatcampaign, depend on it. He never faced the Alps to succour Genoa.'
How true was this appreciation of the great general's ambition, I needscarcely repeat; but so it was at the time; many were able to guess thebold aspirings of one who, to the nation, seemed merely one among thenumerous candidates for fame and honours.
It was about an hour after my conversation with the sergeant, that anorderly came to summon me to Colonel de Barres quarters; and with allmy haste to obey, I only arrived as the column was formed. The plan ofattack was simple enough. Three Voltigeur companies were to attempt theassault of the Monte Facoio, under De Barre; while, to engage attention,and draw off the enemy's force, a strong body of infantry and cavalrywas to debouch on the Chiavari road, as though to force a passage inthat direction. In all that regarded secrecy and despatch our expeditionwas perfect; and as we moved silently through the streets, the sleepingcitizens never knew of our march. Arrived at the gate, the columnhalted, to give us time to pass along the walls and descend the glen, anoperation which, it was estimated, would take forty-five minutes; at theexpiration of this they were to issue forth to the feint attack.
At a quick step we now pressed forward towards the angle of the bastion,whence many a path led down the cliff in all directions. Half a dozen ofour men, well acquainted with the spot, volunteered as guides, and themuskets being slung on the back, the word was given to 'move on,' therallying-place being the plateau of the orange-trees I have alreadymentioned.
'Steep enough this,' said De Barre to me, as, holding on by briers andbrambles, we slowly descended the gorge; 'but few of us will ever climbit again.'
'You think so?' asked I, in some surprise.
'Of course, I know it,' said he. 'Vallence, who commands the battalionsbelow, always condemned the scheme; rely on it, he's not the man to makehimself out a false prophet. I don't pretend to tell you that in ourdays of monarchy there were neither jealousies nor party grudges, andthat men were above all small and ungenerous rivalry; but, assuredly, wehad less of them than now. If the field of competition is more open toevery one, so are the arts by which success is won; a preeminence in arepublic means always the ruin of a rival If we fail, as fail we must,he'll be a general.'
'But why must we fail?'
'For every reason; we are not in force; we know nothing of what we areabout to attack; and, if repulsed, have no retreat behind us.'
'Then why----?' I stopped, for already I saw the impropriety of myquestion.
'Why did I advise the attack?' said he mildly, taking up my half-utteredquestion. 'Simply because death outside these walls is quicker and moreglorious than within them. There's scarcely a man who follows us has notthe same sentiment in his heart. The terrible scenes of the lastfive weeks have driven our fellows to all but mutiny. Nothing indeedmaintained discipline but a kind of tigerish thirst for vengeance--ahope that the day of reckoning would come round, and one fearful lessonteach these same white-coats how dangerous it is to drive a brave enemyto despair.'
De Barre continued to talk in this strain as we descended, every remarkhe made being uttered with all the coolness of one who talked of amatter indifferent to him. At length the way became too steep for muchconverse, and slipping and scrambling we now only interchanged a chanceword as we went. Although two hundred and fifty men were around andabout us, not a voice was heard; and, except the occasional breaking ofa branch, or the occasional fall of some heavy stone into the valley,not a sound was heard. At length a long, shrill whistle announced thatthe first man had reached the bottom, which, to judge from the faintnessof the sound, appeared yet a considerable distance off. The excessivedarkness increased the difficulty of the way, and De Barre continuedto repeat--'that we had certainly been misinformed, and that even indaylight the descent would take an hour.'
It was full half an hour after this when we came to a small rivulet, thelittle boundary line between the two steep cliffs. Here our men were allassembled, refreshing themselves with the water, still muddy from recentrain, and endeavouring to arrange equipments and arms, damaged anddisplaced by many a fall.
'We 've taken an hour and tw
enty-eight minutes,' said De Barre, as heplaced a firefly on the glass of his watch, to see the hour. 'Now, men,let us make up for lost time. _En avant!_
'_En avant!_,' was quickly passed from mouth to mouth, and never wasa word more spirit-stirring to Frenchmen! With all the alacrity of menfresh and 'eager for the fray,' they began the ascent, and such was theemulous ardour to be first, that it assumed all the features of a race.
A close pine wood greatly aided us now, and, in less time than wecould believe it possible, we reached the plateau appointed for ourrendezvous. This being the last spot of meeting before our attack on thefort, the final dispositions were here settled on, and the orders forthe assault arranged. With daylight, the view from this terrace, forsuch it was in reality, would have been magnificent, for even now, inthe darkness, we could track out the great thoroughfares of the city,follow the windings of the bay and harbour, and, by the lights on board,detect the fleet as it lay at anchor. To the left, and for many a mile,as it seemed, were seen twinkling the bivouac fires of the Austrianarmy; while directly above our heads, glittering like a red star, shonethe solitary gleam that marked out the 'Monte Faccio.'
I was standing silently at De Barre's side, looking on this sombrescene, so full of terrible interest, when he clutched my arm violently,and whispered--'Look yonder; see, the attack has begun.'
The fire of the artillery had flashed as he spoke, and now, with hisvery words, the deafening roar of the guns was heard from below.
'I told you he'd not wait for us, Tiernay. I told you how it wouldhappen!' cried he; then suddenly recovering his habitual composure ofvoice and manner, he said, 'Now for our part, men; forwards!'
And away went the brave fellows, tearing up the steep mountain-side,like an assault party at a breach. Though hidden from our view by thedarkness and the dense wood, we could hear the incessant din of largeand small arms; the roll of the drums summoning men to their quarters,and what we thought were the cheers of charging squadrons.
Such was the mad feeling of excitement these sounds produced, that Icannot guess what time elapsed before we found ourselves on the crest ofthe mountain, and not above three hundred paces from the outworks ofthe fort. The trees had been cut away on either side, so as to offera species of glacis, and this must be crossed under the fire of thebatteries, before an attack could be commenced. Fortunately for us,however, the garrison was too confident of its security to dread a _coupde main_ from the side of the town, and had placed all their guns alongthe bastion, towards Borghetto, and this De Barre immediately detected.A certain 'alert' on the walls, however, and a quick movement of lightshere and there, showed that they had become aware of the sortie fromthe town, and gradually we could see figure after figure ascending thewalls, as if to peer down into the valley beneath.
'You see what Vallence has done for us,' said De Barre bitterly; 'butfor him we should have taken these fellows, _en flagrant delit_, andcarried their walls before they could turn out a captain's guard.'
As he spoke a heavy crashing sound was heard, and a wild cheer. Alreadyour pioneers had gained the gate, and were battering away at it; anotherparty had reached the walls, and thrown up their rope-ladders, andthe attack was opened. In fact, Giorgio had led one division by a pathsomewhat shorter than ours, and they had begun the assault before weissued from the pine wood.
We now came up at a run, but under a smart fire from the walls, alreadyfast crowding with men. Defiling close beneath the wall, we gained thegate, just as it had fallen beneath the assaults of our men. A steepcovered way led up from it, and along this our fellows rushed madly;but suddenly from the gloom a red glare flashed out, and a terribledischarge of grape swept all before it. 'Lie down!' was now shouted fromfront to rear, but even before the order could be obeyed another andmore fatal volley followed.
Twice we attempted to storm the ascent; but wearied by the labour of themountain pass--worn out by fatigue--and, worse still, weak from actualstarvation, our men faltered! It was not fear, nor was there anythingakin to it; for even as they fell under the thick fire their shrillcheers breathed stern defiance. They were utterly exhausted, and failingstrength could do no more! De Barre took the lead, sword in hand,and with one of those wild appeals that soldiers never hear in vain,addressed them; but the next moment his shattered corpse was carriedto the rear. The scaling party, alike repulsed, had now defiled toour support; but the death-dealing artillery swept through us withoutceasing. Never was there a spectacle so terrible as to see men, animatedby courageous devotion, burning with glorious zeal, and yet powerlessfrom very debility--actually dropping from the weakness of famine! Thestaggering step--the faint shout--the powerless charge--all showing theravages of pestilence and want!
Some sentiment of compassion must have engaged our enemies' sympathy,for twice they relaxed their fire, and only resumed it as we returned tothe attack. One fearful discharge of grape, at pistol range, now seemedto have closed the struggle; and as the smoke cleared away, the earthwas seen crowded with dead and dying. The broken ranks no longer showeddiscipline--men gathered in groups around their wounded comrades, and,to all seeming, indifferent to the death that menaced them. Scarcely anofficer survived, and, among the dead beside me, I recognisedGiorgio, who still knelt in the attitude in which he had received hisdeath-wound.
I was like one in some terrible dream, powerless and terror-stricken, asI stood thus amid the slaughtered and the wounded.
'You are my prisoner,' said a gruff-looking old Groat grenadier, ashe snatched my sword from my hand by a smart blow on the wrist; and Iyielded without a word.
'Is it over?' said I; 'is it over?'
'Yes, _parbleu!_ I think it is,' said a comrade, whose cheek was hangingdown from a bayonet wound. 'There are not twenty of us remaining, andthey will do very little for the service of the "Great Republic'"
Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune Page 37