On the Mouiz height, Colborne was re-forming his men for an attack upon the main French position, north of the Lesser Rhune. All along the forty-mile front, guns were pounding the lines. It was a brilliant day, without a trace of fog in the valleys; Hope’s divisions could be seen threatening the French lines from the coast to the Rhunes; and on the sparkling waters of the Bay of Biscay the distant ships were so clearly etched against the sky that they looked like miniatures. Eastward, fifty thousand men were pouring down the slope of Mount Atchubia, their bayonets flashing in the sunlight. On the Mouiz ridge itself, the only French troops left were those manning a strong star-redoubt, placed on the edge of a steep hill. Colborne, approaching it along a narrow neck of land, halted the 52nd under the brow of the hill, for his experience told him that since it was isolated from the rest of the French army there was no need to waste men’s lives in an assault upon it. Kempt’s brigade was already turning it on the left, and Cole was coming up with the Enthusiastics to the rear; while Giron’s Spaniards, to the right of Colborne, closed in on the eastern side.
Harry, who had just changed Old Chap for his thoroughbred mare, joined Colborne on the neck of land below the redoubt. He had been in the thick of the fighting, but was unscathed. ‘Barnard’s been hit,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how badly: Simmons has taken him to the rear. Kempt’s wounded too, but they say he’s still on the field. By Jove, sir, there was never such a day! Do you mean to assail the redoubt?’
‘I see no need. It can’t hold out, and we should lose men for no purpose,’ Colborne replied, looking up at the steep hill above him.
The Spaniards on his right chose, however, at that moment, to make a demonstration against the fort. The defenders sent them quickly to the rightabout, and just as Colborne was observing their proceedings with a good deal of annoyance, Charles Beckwith rode up with orders from Alten for the brigade to move on.
‘Move on?’ said Colborne. ‘What do you mean by that? Does General Alten wish me to attack the redoubt? If we leave it to our right or left, it must fall as a matter of course. Our whole army will be beyond it in twenty minutes.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Beckwith, who was looking tired and harassed. ‘Your orders are to move on.’
‘Charlie, am I to attack the redoubt?’ demanded Colborne.
‘I tell you, I only know you are to move on!’ replied Beckwith, wheeling his horse, and galloping off. ‘What an evasive order!’ said Colborne.
‘Oh, sir, do let us take the last of the works!’ Harry said, his eyes sparkling. ‘It will be done in a few minutes!’
‘It seems that we must do so. Advance in column of companies !’
No sooner was the 52nd in motion, climbing the hill under the fort, than it was made plain to them that the French meant to defend the place. Such a murderous fire met the troops that the leading ranks were mown down. The regiment struggled on, Colborne at their head, and gained the crest, only to be brought up short by a deep, well-palisaded ditch cut in front of the redoubt. They recoiled before the fire of the defenders, and sought cover in a little ravine. As soon as they could be re-formed, Colborne led them forward again through a rain of shot and shell. Within twenty yards of the ditch, Harry’s mare was struck. He turned her quickly, so that as he jumped off her body should be between him and the enemy’s fire, and as he swung a leg over another shot hit her, and she fell, pinning Harry under her, her blood pouring on to his face.
Colborne saw Harry go down, but was too busy encouraging his men to pay much heed. Shells were bursting all round him, and the 52nd were suffering shocking losses without being able to make any headway against the redoubt. Tom Fane, dismounting from his horse, ran to him, and shouted. Tray get off, sir, pray get off! You will be killed in an instant!’ ‘No! This is absurd! They must surrender!’ Colborne exclaimed, and pulling out his handkerchief, rode forward, waving it above his head. As he approached the ditch, the fire slackened. He spurred right up to the brink, and seeing an officer within the works, called out: ‘What nonsense this is, attempting to hold out! You are surrounded on every side! There are Spaniards on the left: you had better surrender at once!’
He spoke loudly, and the French officer, thinking that he was trying to urge the men to surrender, leaned over the wall, saying indignantly: ‘You are speaking to my men!’ ‘That is all nonsense: you must surrender!’
‘You incite my men to desert me! Retire, or I will shoot you!’
‘If a shot is fired now that you are surrounded by our army,’ said Colborne, ‘we’ll put every man to the sword! Come now, or you will have the Spaniards here directly!’ The dread of falling into Spanish hands had a decided effect upon the defenders of the redoubt, as Colborne knew it would. The officer hesitated, but his situation was hopeless, and after a moment he asked Colborne to come into the fort to arrange terms. Meanwhile, Harry, crushed under the body of his mare, but miraculously unhurt, was shouting to some soldiers near at hand to come and pull him out. They ran towards him, astonished to find him alive.
‘Why, damn my eyes if our old Brigade-Major is killed after all!’ one of them exclaimed.
‘Come, pull me out!’ said Harry. ‘I’m not even wounded: only squeezed!’ ‘Lor’, sir, you’re as bloody as a butcher!’ said a stout private, hauling him out from under the mare.
Harry did not trouble to wipe the blood from his face, but ran to join Colborne, who had pulled out his note-book, and was writing in it, in French, I surrender unconditionally. ‘Hallo, Smith! I thought you were dead. Give this to that fellow, and tell him to sign it,’ Colborne said.
The French officer burst out laughing when Harry went into the fort. ‘One would say you were a walking corpse!’ he said. ‘You are literally covered with blood!’
‘Nevertheless, I’m very much alive,’ replied Harry, giving him Colborne’s paper to sign. The officer grimaced at the words Colborne had written, but since there was no help for it, scrawled his name, and gave the paper back to Harry.
‘That’s right,’ said Colborne, when Harry brought it to him. ‘Find yourself a fresh horse, and take it to Wellington.’
‘Here, have mine!’ Fane said, thrusting his bridle into Harry’s hand. ‘What a sight you are to be sure!’
Harry was, indeed, such a mask of blood that when he rode up to Wellington, his lordship demanded: ‘Who are you, sir?’
‘The Brigade-Major, and Rifle brigade, my lord,’ replied Harry. His lordship stared at him. ‘Hallo, Smith! Are you badly wounded?’ ‘Not at all, sir: it’s my horse’s blood,’ said Harry, giving him Colborne’s paper. ‘Well!’ said Wellington, taking it, and running his eye over it. ‘Tell Colborne I approve. Did you lose many men in that affair?’
‘Yes, my lord, very many.’
‘I’m sorry for it,’ said his lordship, looking down his nose. ‘No need to have attacked the redoubt.’
‘Our orders were to move on, sir.’
‘Dey were not mine! Dere is some mistake!’ Alten said angrily. ‘I sent no order to Colborne! I dink Colborne understands his pusiness fery well widout such orders from me.’ ‘Ah-h’m! I wish Staff-officers would learn to know their duties better!’ said his lordship, with one of his frosty glares.