Temeraire felt a queer, confusing shudder of sympathy, wanting to bring his wings forward, as if to protect his own breast. The trumpets were blowing again, and the British artillery on the flanks opened a deadly hail of canister-shot against the rear and flanks of the French infantry, chasing them forward into the endless rain of cannon-fire from the ships.

‘Temeraire!’ Laurence called. Excidium was already roaring out the signal, and they were not yet in place! Temeraire flung himself hastily back, he no longer felt tired: the urgency of the moment trembled along his wings. He gathered the others who also had been distracted by the dreadful spectacle, and they flew to join the dragons of the Corps in a great single body, nearly a hundred of them in all, and as one they roared and charged the French reserves.

The French soldiers were already reeling from so visible a disaster. The falling dragons could be seen for a good mile, and the wind was blowing harder now, clearing the clouds. Nelson's flagship was plainly visible off shore, and the fleet in line-of-battle ranged alongside Victory: the Minotaur and the Prince of Wales, and all the rest of the ships returned from Copenhagen, and some six prizes beside them, pounding away now at the shore.

The French broke at the attack from their rear, and fled; but there was nowhere to run but into the waiting maw, a withering crossfire of Navy and Army guns ready to receive them. The British infantry marched at a steady trot into the emptied space, and Temeraire heard Lien at last. She was calling frantically as the infantry divided her and the last French aerial reserves from Napoleon and his Guard.

Napoleon had seen the trap, of course, and the retreat was sounding furiously from every French trumpet; but too late. The order of the French ranks had dissolved into one mass of terrified men, and the dragons carried by their momentum came falling into the hail of cannon-fire. Wellesley had committed all his reserves now, companies which had been held off to either flank, emerged from the trees and fog with their artillery and sent up a wall of hot iron to prevent the French forces from retreating or regrouping.

The tightening noose closed upon Bonaparte. ‘Temeraire, the Corps will help the infantry hold the line,’ Laurence called. ‘We must keep off any who break through.’

Temeraire could now see Lien clearly. She was yet on the ground, calling to direct the French dragons to try one thing after another, intent only on breaking someone through to rescue Napoleon and other survivors who might be rescued from the wrack and ruin.