Brigadier seized on the momeut, and charging with the whole force in line burst through everything that opposed him. Meanwhile the exterminating fire of the sailors paved the way for the infantry, as with levelled bayonets they rushed on to the guns. There the conflict raged fiercely, the cold steel doing its murderous work unrelentingly, as evidenced by the jags in our sabre-blades retaining pieces of bone, and blood-besmeared hair.
In thus dealing out this stern retribution, it must not be imagined that in revenge we were thirsting for blood. On the contrary, we were weary of shedding it, God knows. But the reader will bear in mind, that it was “war to the knife,” and that if we had shown any mercy to these ferocious scoundrels, they would assuredly have shot us down the next moment. It was a matter of life or death, to kill or be killed; and if we had stayed our hand, we should undoubtedly have courted our own destruction.
At length, unable to sustain the combined assault of a force fighting like enraged tigers, the rebels yielded reluctantly, contesting each position as they abandoned it.
The action closed in the afternoon, and on the Brigade’s return to the camp, a salute from the captured guns (nine with ammunition, tumbrels complete) proclaimed to the surrounding country the triumphant victory, which saved the district a second disastrous invasion. But, although victory after victory continued to follow our arms in succession, the above-
