At last I saw our general raise his sword, a command rang down
the long line of battle, and, like one terrible cannon-shot, our
muskets sang together with as perfect a precision as on a private
field of exercise. Then, waiting for the smoke to clear a little,
another volley came with almost the same precision; after which the
firing came in choppy waves of sound, and again in a persistent
clattering. Then a light breeze lifted the smoke and mist well
away, and a wayward sunlight showed us our foe, like a long white
wave retreating from a rocky shore, bending, crumpling, breaking,
and, in a hundred little billows, fleeing seaward.

Thus checked, confounded, the French army trembled and fell back.
Then I heard the order to charge, and from near four thousand
throats there came for the first time our exultant British cheer,
and high over all rang the slogan of Fraser's Highlanders. To my
left I saw the flashing broadswords of the clansmen, ahead of all
the rest. Those sickles of death clove through and broke the
battalions of La Sarre, and Lascelles scattered the good soldiers
of Languedoc into flying columns. We on the right, led by Wolfe,
charged the desperate and valiant men of Roussillon and Guienne
and the impetuous sharpshooters of the militia. As we came on, I
observed the general sway and push forward again, and then I lost
sight of him, for I saw what gave the battle a new interest to me:
Doltaire, cool and deliberate, animating and encouraging the
French troops.

I moved in a shaking hedge of bayonets, keeping my eye on him;
and presently there was a hand-to-hand melee, out of which I fought
to reach him. I was making for him, where he now sought to rally
the retreating columns, when I noticed, not far away, Gabord,