ALAND THE BALTIC IN 1854. 201 



bags on their shoulders, like mules in a string the 

 broad -belted flat occupied by the French outposts, 

 and the road whereon our supplies and munition 

 were continually passing in long trains of carts 

 drawn by sailors. Ever and anon there would be an 

 incident. A shot would be fired from the fort, and 

 the instant it fell, four or five red-breeched soldiers 

 would run after it, pick it up, then toss and tumble it 

 back towards the enemy with every kind of derisive 

 gesture and action. One pitched near our waggons. 

 Jack, in imitation of the French, rushed after it, 

 when we saw him suddenly drop it, put his hands in 

 his pockets, and turn away with a disconcerted gait. 

 The shot was red-hot, and he had burnt his fingers. 

 Our quiet survey was not to be of long duration. 

 On our left was a company of French marines. Their 

 captain was the most uneasy and restless of men. 

 He had a bugle, too, which was never silent for an 

 instant. Some one incautiously showed him a point 

 whence he could see Fort Tsee. From that moment 

 his peace of mind was gone ; he knew no rest : he 

 was ever stepping forward on tiptoe to peep, then he 

 beckoned his subalterns to have a look, then one file ; 

 then another and another of his men crept up, until 

 the whole were scattered amid the trees, when whizz 

 came a rifle bullet, then a shot plumped over us ; 

 then a shell burst just below, and for the next hour 

 every kind of missile came crashing around us. The 

 captain was quiet, and his bugle silent now. 



