CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE FRANKENDÖR.

Sir Alexander Leslie, who was designated "Governor of all the cities upon the Baltic coast," made a rapid and able survey of the whole town; and, for its immediate defence, ordered the erection of new barricades to defend our avenues, and batteries to sweep those of the enemy. Fascines were made and filled with earth; all houses near the gates were loopholed for musketry, and had their lower rooms filled with stones and rubbish, to prevent the passage of the German cannon-shot; while all edifices of every kind that impeded the fire of our batteries or musketry, were instantly levelled to the ground.

In every way the Scottish marshal proved himself worthy of the high trust reposed in him by the allied princes of the north. While some of our soldiers who had been bakers (or, as we call them, _baxters_), were ordered to prepare vast quantities of biscuit for the garrison and the citizens, others were employed in making up ball-cartridges, cannon baskets, platforms, and other military works. New wells were sunk, the old repaired, and tanks were filled with water, while the hospitals were cleaned out and purified. Amid all this lively bustle--which was a severe reprehension on the inertness of Colonel Holka--the poor citizens forgot the horrors of their two months' siege, and worked among our soldiers with ardour and satisfaction.

Wallenstein was aware that 5000 Scots had entered the city under Leslie, whom he knew to be the most able general of the great Gustavus. He was also aware, by what he knew of Leslie's military character, acuteness, and resources, that, unless crushed, he might be foiled before that city, he had so solemnly sworn to win; thus, taking advantage of the unusual commotion within it, he made a fresh reconnaissance, and, observing that the Frankendör was the weakest and least defensible post, resolved on assailing it during that night.

Our soldiers were bivouacked within this ravelin that overlooked the Frankenlake. There I had left them for an hour to visit Ernestine; but the hour gradually extended from one to two, and from two to three, and the church clocks which still survived the various bombardings of the last few weeks, were just striking the hour of eleven, on the 24th of June--a day by old memories the dearest to a Scottish heart--when the report of two heavy cannon fired from the citadel, pealed over the roofs and streets of the unfortunate town, announcing a night attack.

The thought flashed like lightning upon me, that the regiment might be engaged--that I had been three hours absent, and that Sir Donald might miss me from my post. Thus, to start up, to snatch my sword and steel-bonnet, to press my lip to the pale cheek of Ernestine, and hurry into the street, were all the work of a moment, and I was away!

A storm was raging, and though the season was summer, and the month was June, it was a severe one. A torrent of rain had fallen, and a tempest of wind had swept over the city, levelling many of the shattered houses on the stray passengers and on our working parties; but I had been so pleasantly occupied during my tête-à-tête with Ernestine, that I had heard nothing of it; and now, on issuing into the street, I was surprised to find it covered by puddles of mud and water, while dust, fragments of tiles, and wet leaves, were swept past me on the hurrying wind. Dark clouds enveloped the sky, and after pausing for a moment in the dark and unlighted thoroughfare, irresolute which way to turn, the report of a volley of musketry drew me towards a part of the long and deserted way, by which I reached the Frankendör, arriving just in time to find my comrades about to be engaged, and our drums beating the _Point of War_. Being wetted by the rain their sound was dull and hollow, but the wild pipes were shrill and high as ever.

Though the scenery was flat and level, there was something impressive and terrific in the storm, and the night was so dark, that, when I assumed command of my company at one of the faces of the ravelin, I could not discern the enemy.

Before us lay the dark bosom of the Frankenlake; above was a black and stormy sky, where enormous masses of vapour were rolling and intermingling on the wings of that squalling wind, which swept over Stralsund in loud and incessant gusts. The rain had ceased, and there was at times a close, oppressive, and sulphurous heat.

Suddenly, like a mighty gorge between two black mountains, the clouds were divided in heaven; a lambent light edged with brilliance their torn and rugged outlines, and the forked lightning was shot from the opening, like long red arrows of fire.

For a moment, while these levin brands were lighting earth and heaven with their ghastly glare, we could distinctly perceive the bastions of the ravelin, and the ranks of the regiment; for all its bonnets of steel, and bright musket-barrels, glittered in the gleam above the stone parapet and redoubts of turf. I could see the strong beeches, bending like willows before the breath of the sweeping storm, the turgid waters of the Frankenlake, and the countless bright points--helmets, pike-heads and musket-barrels, cuirasses and standards, of two vast columns of infantry, that moved stealthily round each flank of its margin, to assail on two quarters the post we had orders to defend to the last--the Frankendör--the most untenable, and the weakest redoubt in the whole city of Stralsund.

The lightning passed away; the bright edges faded from the clouds, and the bosom of the lake and all its banks vanished into darkness, as instantaneously as they had become visible; but we had seen enough to acquaint us with the force, disposition, and intentions of the foe.

The thunder then rattled in deep hoarse peals across the sky, and died away in echoes over the isle of Rügen, and along the Pomeranian shore.

"Now, my brave lads--cock up your bonnets!" cried Sir Donald, whose deep and powerful voice rose above even the howling of the stormy wind; "'tis the enemy--the Imperialists, who mean to beat up our quarters, and have sworn to beat us out of them; so let us give these gentlemen a good account of ourselves. Musketeers--look to your pouches and hammer-stalls."

These leather covers, by which our men protected their locks and matches from rain, were instantly unstrapped from the muskets, the pouches were opened, and I could perceive the red glow-worm-like gleam, as each musketeer lit his match at his comrade's lock, and all stood ready to fire upon the enemy, waiting only for the order in silence, and amid a stillness broken only by the sweeping gusts.

Another gleam of light shot between an opening in the clouds, and we saw the advancing columns nearer still--so near that their ladders, and other paraphernalia of escalade, were visible. Then the colonel spoke to the pipers who stood by his side, and the onset burst from their instruments; but the scream of the chanters and bray of the drones were lost and drowned in the roar of the musketry, for seven hundred barrels of steel were levelled at once over the parapet, and seven hundred flashes of red fire burst at once upon the murky night. Again the arms were loaded, and the rattle of iron ramrods and brass butts!--the bustle of charging home the cartridges, casting about, blowing matches, and priming pans, became incessant; and with no other light to guide them than the occasional gleams of lightning, our soldiers poured volley after volley, on those close ridges of helmets, strewing the route of the Imperialists with dead and dying men.

Wild hurrahs, shrieks, and outcries, were tossed towards us on the gusty wind, or were borne away to the seaward; and now, to add tenfold grandeur to the terrible and magnificent scene, the Imperialists shot a succession of fireballs into the air, and each one, as it soared like a mountain of fire, shed a flood of brilliance upon the rippled lake, the smoky ravelin, and the columns of Spanish and Austrian musketeers who were pouring forward to the attack. The explosion of these fireballs, which sprung like rockets above the lake and sheeted it with light, until they fell, to splutter, hiss, and float upon its surface (for neither wind nor water could extinguish their flames), had a most fatal effect for the assailants themselves, by enabling us to direct our fire upon them with the deadliest precision.

"Unhorse me yonder fellow with the Red Plume!" said Sir Donald Mackay. "By my father's soul! 'tis his example alone that leads yon wavering column on! Down with him! level surely--Gillian M'Bane, thou art a deadly shot at a red deer or a capercailzie. My silver brooch to thine, if thou makest yonder fellow kiss the turf."

"'Tis Rupert-with-the-Red-plume!" cried a hundred voices. My heart leaped at the cry; but, before I could speak, Gillian M'Bane had fired, and I could perceive the cavalier indicated by the colonel--and who was an officer magnificently armed and accoutred, brandishing his long sword, and conspicuous by a scarlet plume--reel in his saddle; but the shot had only cut the lacing of his helmet, which rolled among his horse's feet; and still he pressed on, with his long grizzled hair, and longer cavalier-lock streaming on the wind.

"Spare that officer!" I exclaimed, striking up five or six levelled muskets with my sword. "I owe him my life, and more than my life; besides, he is my own near kinsman, though he serves the German emperor."

I spoke but in time! another moment had sent the poor count into eternity; for among our soldiers there were some of the most deadly marksmen, with bow or musket, that the Highlands could produce. For a whole hour we held the foe completely in check, and with comparatively little loss; for our parapet was breast high, and in many places defended or strengthened by the tambour work of palisades, which were ten feet long and each six inches thick, driven into the glacis three deep, and closely loopholed. These had been considerably injured by the discharges of the camarade battery; still they afforded us some protection, while, on the other hand, the Imperial columns suffered dreadfully.

Their front ranks were enveloped in smoke, from whence broke forth incessant flashes of fire; but, after four desperate attempts to cross the ditch and ascend the lower glacis, they were compelled to retire beyond the lake. The Spaniards fled with precipitation; but the Germans retreated slowly, with all the coolness, steadiness, and constitutional phlegm of their nation, and continued to fire occasional shots so long as we were within range of them.

By this time day had broken; a faint grey light had begun to steal along the waters of the Sound, gilding the church spires of Stralsund, the summits of the isle of Rugen, and whitening the pallid faces of the dead, who lay in hundreds by the shore of the Frankenlake, with distorted visages, eyeballs glazed, and jaws relaxed; for the aspect of those who die under the agony of gunshot wounds is often horrible.

The bright midsummer sun came up in his morning glory above the isle of Rugen, and the birds, as they sang their songs to the early day, twittered among the terrible debris of the past night's deadly work. The dew was on the verdant grass, and the bright flowers were raising their heavy cups and petals to that warm summer sun; but many a strong and many a brave man lay there, whose head would never rise again.

Many were lying there bleeding to death and crying aloud for help and for water; neither of which we could render, as the camarade battery and the fieldpieces had resumed their operations against the sconce; but many of the poor wretches crawled like bruised snails to the reedy margin of the shallow lake, and there perished miserably among the mud and slime, in futile efforts to quench their burning thirst.

During the whole day a cannonade was poured from every part of the city upon the trenches of Wallenstein, and with eighty pieces of cannon he replied. The walls seemed to be garlanded with fire, while the smoke ascended into mid air, and overhung all Stralsund. Before us, from one flank of the Imperial lines to the other, including the whole lake, long wreaths of pale blue smoke were floating, and in their bosom we heard the boom of the cannon, as the parallels drew nearer and more near, with the occasional patter of the quicker musketry.

Wallenstein, the soul of battle, had now for the first time found, in Leslie of Balgonie, an antagonist who was more than his equal, and who taught him the folly and impiety of the oath he had sworn--to storm Stralsund, even though it were slung in chains between the heavens and earth.

So passed the day, and in the streets, on the walls, and by the ravelins, as well as in the trenches of the enemy, the loss of life was terrible; but towards evening the cannonade began to slacken, when the pieces became too hot for loading.

On the right flank of the Frankendör a low vapour seemed to approach us, and steel was seen to glitter amidst it at times. A few balls from a demi-cannon searched its dark womb, and then we saw a column of horse retire with precipitation.

So closed the day.