7
violence of despair. His troops fell in heaps around him, and still the gaps were filled up. A galled trooper would occasionally flinch; but ere he could turn or flee, the sword of Clavers was waving over his head. I could see him, in his fury, strike both man and horse. In the fearful carnage: he himself sometimes reeled. He would stop short in the midst of a movemant then contradict his own orders, and strike the man, because he could not comprehend his meaning.
He ordered flanking parties to take us on our right and left. "In the name of God," cried he, "cross the bog, and charge them on the flanks, till we get over this morass. If this fail, we are lost."
It now fell to my lot to come into action---Hitherto we had fired only some distant shot. A gallant officer led his band down to the borders of the swamp, in search of a proper place to cross. We threw ourselves before him, a severe firing commenced. My gallant men fired with great steadiness. We could sec many tumbling from their saddles. Not content with repelling the foe men, we found our opportunity, to cross, and attack them sword in hand. The Captain, whose name I afterwards ascertained to be Arrol, threw himself in my path. In the first shock, I discharged my pistols. His sudden start in his saddle, told me that one of them had taken effect. With one of the tremendous oaths of Charles II. he closed with me. He fired his steel pistol. I was in front of him;---My sword glanced on the weapon, and gavc a direction to the bullet, which saved my life. By this time, my men had driven the enemy before them, and had left the ground clear for the single combat. As he made a lounge at my breast, I turuod his sword aside, by one of those sweeping blows, which are rather the dictate of a kind of instinct of self defence, than a movement of art,—
