The men came running. Outside, the Frenchmen rushed on, boots scrabbling over the ruined masonry as they surged into the breach. Waters wrenched his sword out and turned to meet them, as the first of the new arrivals reached his side. Along the wall, the other men were firing and loading their muskets as fast as possible as they cut down the attackers. The enemy fire was just as deadly and all around men were dropping back from the wall, dead and wounded.

With a ragged cheer the first of the Frenchmen charged through the breach, straight on to the bayonets of the waiting redcoats. The man next to Waters gritted his teeth as he thrust his bayonet into the stomach of the leading Frenchman, the impact bending him double. Waters scrambled up the rubble and hacked at the face of another man, his savage blow only just blocked in time as the desperate enemy threw his musket up, taking Waters’s blade on the stock, which splintered with a loud crack. Cursing, the Frenchman kicked Waters in the chest, sending him reeling back. Then, grasping the barrel of the musket like a short spear, the Frenchman tried to stab him. A musket crashed out close beside the British officer and his attacker spun round and fell on to the rubble. Waters did not have time to even nod his thanks as he rushed forward again to join the red-coated bodies struggling to hold the breach. On either side musket fire rippled up and down the convent walls.Then a voice cried out, ‘They’re running for it!’

Someone cheered and the cry was taken up.

The fight in the breach lasted a moment longer, and then the last of the Frenchmen turned and backed off a few paces behind his bloodied bayonet. Then he too turned and fled, joining the bluecoats as they retreated to cover. Waters joined in the cheers of the other men, until he recalled the enemy guns. Glancing up towards them, he saw that they were making ready to fire again, the moment their fleeing comrades had cleared the line of fire.

‘How much longer is this going to take, Harris?’ Arthur struggled to keep his voice calm.The first few rounds had either fallen short or gone too far and struck the cliff beyond the enemy battery before exploding.

The artillery major had just finished his latest adjustment to the howitzer’s trajectory angle and nodded to the loader standing by with the next shell. As it was heaved into the stubby barrel, Harris turned towards his general.

‘I think we have the range now, sir. It is usual to have to fire bracketing shots first in order to determine the range,’ he explained patiently. ‘But now we have the right charge, and the right angle, and the fuse length is good.’

‘Kindly spare me the lecture.’

‘Sorry, sir.’ Harris turned back to the howitzer and ordered the crew to open fire.