As soon as the night fell, a boat with muffled oars was manned, to carry
the messenger on shore. I was in it; Mr Treenail, the second lieutenant,
steering. We pulled in right for a breach in the dike, lately cut by the
French, in order to inundate the neighbourhood; and as the Elbe at high
water is hereabouts much higher than the surrounding country, we were soon
sucked into the current, and had only to keep our oars in the water,
pulling a stroke now and then to give the boat steerage way. As we shot
through the gap into the smooth water beyond, we once more gave way, the
boat's head being kept in the direction of lights that we saw twinkling I
in the distance, apparently in some village beyond the inner embankment,
when all at once we dashed in amongst thousands of wild--geese, which rose
with a clang, and a concert of quacking, screaming, and hissing, that was
startling enough. We skimmed steadily on in the same direction "Oars,
men!" We were by this time close to a small cluster of houses, perched on
the forced ground or embankment, and the messenger hailed in German.
"Qui vive!" sung out a gruff voice; and we heard the clank of a musket, as
if some one had cast it from his shoulder, and caught it in his hands, as
he brought it down to the charge. Our passenger seemed a little taken
aback; but he hailed again, still in German. "Parole," replied the man.
A pause. "The watchword, or I fire." We had none to give.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27