Part 7 (1/2)

”That looks like business,” cried George, gleefully, to a little group of his comrades around, and the men smiled at the eager enthusiasm of the lad. The orders were pa.s.sed round that the attack should begin with daybreak on the following morning, and the soldiers went to roost at once, with easy minds. It was believed that the attack would be but a harmless bit of child's-play, as it was more than suspected that the defending force within the town was very small, though how ridiculously small it really was none of the besiegers at the time even guessed.

”Turn out, mate,” cried one of the soldiers, shaking George vigorously by the shoulder, and the boy sprang up to find everybody astir.

”How I do sleep in this hot country!” he yawned, to which the sergeant replied with a laugh, ”It'll be hotter still before long, my lad, never fear.”

It was a long time before the first shot was fired, however, the disposition of the troops and the guns not being complete. At length a movement was made. The _Dorsets.h.i.+re_, with Captain Whitaker in command, was sent to capture a French privateer with twelve guns, which lay at the Old Mole, and the boom of cannon rose in the air.

Presently, from near the spot where Lieutenant Fieldsend and his little company were posted, a shot was fired into the fortifications; then another, and afterwards a third. Work had begun at last.

A puff, a boom in the distance, and there came screaming through the air a big round shot, striking the ground, ploughing it up, and covering those near with dust and dirt.

”Quite near enough, eh, sir?” George observed to his lieutenant, as they shook the earth from their clothing. ”And, by Jove, there's another of them!” A second shot flew just overhead, to do its deadly work on the unfortunate men who stood immediately behind. George Fairburn's first task in the siege was to help to carry to the rear two or three badly wounded men. On the ground lay a couple who needed no surgeon.

As yet only a few preliminary shots had been fired into the fortress, but the defenders were evidently quite ready with their reply, and the order for a general attack rang out. Within a few minutes the fight was raging in terrible fas.h.i.+on. From land and sea alike the shot poured into the town; sailor and soldier joining, and often standing side by side. As George afterwards expressed it, ”any man set his hand to any job there was to do.” Sailors were to be seen on land in many places, while not a few soldiers helped with the firing on board the s.h.i.+ps.

All that long morning, however, George Fairburn worked at the gun to which he had been a.s.signed. Black with smoke, powder, dust, perspiration, the lad toiled among his companions. For an hour or two none of the enemy's shots fell very near the spot. But at length, and almost suddenly, the b.a.l.l.s began to fly in too close proximity to be pleasant. Shot after shot fell within a yard or two of the gun, and not a few gallant fellows dropped to earth dead or wounded.

”By Jupiter!” cried the lieutenant, who was a.s.sisting, ”they have got our measure at last! I wonder what it is that makes us so conspicuous.”

Then, looking round, he beheld behind them, and not five yards distant, a small clump of elder on which some man had tossed the flaming red s.h.i.+rt he had thrown off in the broiling heat.

”Ah!” Fieldsend e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, ”there's the offender.”

He sprang away and whipped the tell-tale garment from its bush. Just as he seized it another shot came, striking the gun in front, entirely disabling the weapon, and then bounding off. When the men, hastily scattered by the mishap, looked for the lieutenant, he was observed lying in front of the bush.

”Dead!” one of the fellows cried.

”No,” answered George, whose keen eyes detected a movement of the officer's arm, ”but he soon will be, if he is left lying there!”

Another shot struck the bush, only just missing the body of the prostrate man. In a moment George darted forward towards the place, in spite of the loud warning shouts of his mates.

He reached the spot, seized Fieldsend by the shoulders, and by main force dragged him quickly a dozen yards to the right. It was a heavy task, but the lad was as st.u.r.dy a fellow of his years as one might have found in a week's march, and his efforts were rewarded with a cheer from his comrades.

While the shouts were still ringing, yet one more shot came, this time striking the exact spot where the lieutenant had a moment before been lying, and ploughing up the little elder bush by its roots.

”As plucky a job as ever I see!” cried the sergeant, running up with three or four others, and he slapped George on the back with a heartiness that made the lad wince.

The wounded man was hastily carried off the field.

”More stunned than hurt,” reported the surgeon, ”a nasty tap on the left shoulder; but he'll be all right in a day or so.”

Within half an hour George Fairburn found himself on board the _Dorsets.h.i.+re_, to a.s.sist in the operations against the New Mole. The signal had come to Captain Whitaker to proceed against that place, and the s.h.i.+p was headed for the spot. To the surprise of those on board, they perceived two other s.h.i.+ps in advance of them; they were the _Yarmouth_, Captain Hicks, and the _Lennox_, Captain Jumper, a gallant pair. Boats from the two vessels were perceived hastening to the sh.o.r.e. The crews landed, and almost immediately their feet touched ground a dense cloud was seen to fly up into the air, followed by a deafening explosion.

”A mine!” rose from a hundred throats, as the _Dorsets.h.i.+re_ men watched with straining eyes. It was true; two score gallant fellows were afterwards found lying on the fatal ground.

With a determined rush the _Dorsets.h.i.+re_ men fell upon the defenders, and George found himself engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter. It was all over in a few minutes; the handful of Spaniards could not stand against so powerful a force, and the New Mole was taken. Hot and exited, the men were carried against Jumper's Bastion, a strong work a little to the north of the New Mole, and that place, too, was rushed in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time, and with scarcely any loss worth the naming. From this time George Fairburn kept no count of the long series of exciting incidents that followed each other, the a.s.sault having been carried to the Line Wall that stretched away northwards to the Old Mole.

The attack when at its height was a terrible affair. Sixteen English s.h.i.+ps under the immediate command of Byng, and six Dutch men-of-war under Admiral Vanderdusen, faced the Line Wall, while three more English vessels were off the New Mole.

[Ill.u.s.tration: George found himself engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter.]