hat we were going, was it to Axminster, or to Bridport.

CHAPTER XVII. A VOICE AT DAWN

Word was passed about that we were going to surprise the militia at
Bridport at dawn. We were told to keep quiet on the march, after passing
Charmouth, as the night was so still that we should be heard far off. We
did not know how near the Bridport outposts might come to us under cover
of the night. "You come with us, Martin," said Lord Grey: "Take a horse.
If we win Bridport you'll have to gallop back with the news." I was
made a little nervous by the thought of going into battle so soon; but
gulping down my fears I mounted a marsh-mare which stood near the inn
door. I hoped sincerely that no militia bullet would find any part of
either of us. Then the drums began to play us out of the town with their
morning roll. A fife whined out, going down to our marrows with its
shrillness. Lights showed at the windows. We saw dark heads framed in
yellow patches. People called to us. In the door of the great inn stood
Monmouth; his face seemed very white in the glare of the torches. He
raised his hand to us as we passed him. The last thing I noticed of the
town, for I rode in the rear with Lord Grey, were the ranks passing the
lamp on the town hall. They came up to it in waves, their cloaks showing
in glimmer for an instant. Then they passed on into the night, sliding
forwards slowly with a steady roll, like the moving of waves to the
shore.

We were a long time riding; so long that the dawn was on us by the time
we were within shot of the enemy. I don't remember very much about the
ride, except that it was unreal, very unreal; for the mists came down,
blotting the world from us, so that we rode in a swirl of cold grey,
amid a noise of dropping. When we got to the top of the long hill after
Chideock I was bidden halt at a cross-roads, with a waggon full of
ammunition, while the force moved on to the attack. The hills were
showing up clearly above the mist; but the valley lay like a sea, a
great grey formless level, like some world of the ghosts. The troops
passed down in it, moving pretty briskly, lest the mist should lift
before they were in position. Most of them knew the country, so that
they could well walk confidently; but their quickness had something
nervous in it, as though they were ill at ease. Very soon they were out
of sight, out of hearing, swallowed up in the fog.

I waited a long time (as it seemed) up there at the cross-