were inextricably mixed, blocking the narrow space between wall and
river, and exposed in all this dark confusion to a murderous fire.

At length, and though less than a third of his men followed him,
Captain Archimbeau led the supporters up the breach; but by this time
the enemy had packed the ramparts on either side. No soldiery could
stand the hail of musketry, grape, and hand-grenades that rained upon
the head of the column. It hesitated, pushed forward again, and
broke some fifteen feet from the summit, like a spent wave. Then, as
the Royals came pouring back, Lieutenant Campbell of the 9th, with
all that could be collected of his picked detachment, forced his way
up through the sheer weight of them, won clear, and made a fling for
the crest. In vain! His first rush carried him abreast of the
masonry under which Sergeant Wilkes and the corporal clung for cover.
They rushed out to join him; but they had scarcely gained his side
before the whole detachment began to give ground. It was not that
the men fell back; rather, the apex of the column withered down as
man after man dropped beside its leader. He himself had taken a
wound. Yet he waved his sword and carried them forward on a second
charge, only to reach where he had reached before, and be laid there
by a second bullet.

Meanwhile the Royals, driven to the foot of the slope, were flung as
a fresh obstacle in the path of the 38th still striving to press on
for the lesser breach. From his perch half-way up the ruins,
Sergeant Wilkes descried Captain Archimbeau endeavouring to rally
them, and climbed down to help him. The corporal followed, nursing
his wounded hand. As they reached him a bugle sounded the recall.

The assault had failed. At the foot of the breach a soldier of the