‘I wasn’t thinkin’ of the assault,’ explained the young corporal, simply, ’but of the women and children.  It must be hell for them, this waitin’.’

The same voice that had mocked the sergeant put up a ribald guffaw.

‘Didn’t the general give warning,’ it asked, ’when he summoned the garrison?  “I’ve got Sam Vicary here along with me,” he said, “and so I give you notice, for Sam’s a terror when he starts to work."’

‘If you fellows could quit foolin’ a moment—­’ began Corporal Sam, with an ingenuous blush.  But here on a sudden the slope below them opened with a roar as the breaching battery—­gun after gun—­renewed its fire on the sea-wall.  Amid the din, and while the earth shook underfoot, the sergeant was the first to recover himself.

‘Another breach!’ he shouted between the explosions, putting up both hands like a pair of spectacles and peering through the smoke.  ’See there—­to the left; and that accounts for their quiet this last hour.’  He watched the impact of the shot for a minute or so, and shook his head.  ’They’d do better to clear the horn work.  At Badajoz, now—­’

But here he checked himself in time, and fortunately no one had heard him.  The men moved on and struck into the rutted track leading from the batteries to camp.  He turned and followed them in a brown study.  Ever since Badajoz, siege operations had been Sergeant Wilkes’s foible.  His youngsters played upon it, drawing him into discussions over the camp-fire, and winking one to another as he expounded and illustrated, using bits of stick to represent parallels, traverses, rampart and glacis, scarp and counterscarp.  But he had mastered something of the theory, after his lights, and our batteries’ neglect of the hornwork struck him as unscientific.

As he pursued the path, a few dozen yards in rear of his comrades, at a turn where it doubled a sharp corner he saw their hands go up to the salute, and with this slight warning came upon two of his own officers—­Major Frazer and Captain Archimbeau—­perched on a knoll to the left, and attentively studying the artillery practice through their glasses.  The captain (who, by the way, commanded B Company) signed to him to halt, and climbed down to him while the fatigue party trudged on.  Major Frazer followed, closing his field telescope as he descended.

‘What do you say to it?’ asked Captain Archimbeau, with a jerk of his hand towards the great breach.

‘It can be done, sir,’ Sergeant Wilkes answered.  ’Leastways, it ought to be done.  But with submission, sir, ’twill be at wicked waste, unless they first clear the hornwork.’

‘They can keep it pretty well swept while we assault.  The fact is,’ said Major Frazer, a tall Scotsman, speaking in his slow Scots way, ’we assault it early to-morrow, and the general has asked me to find volunteers.’

‘For the forlorn hope, sir?’ The sergeant flushed a little, over the compliment paid to the Royals.