r all. The riderless horses were a few of the militia
charges which had been seized from a cavalry outpost to the west of the
town. We had bolted from our own crazy terror. But we were not the only
fleers. Our cavalry had bolted first, at the first volley outside the
town. It is unjust to say that they were afraid. Lord Grey was not a
coward; our men had stout hearts enough; but they had not reckoned
on the horses. The first discharge of guns scared the horses almost
frantic. They swung about out of action in a couple of seconds. Another
volley made them all bolt. It was when they were bolting that the men
began to grow alarmed. Fear is a contagious thing; it seems to pass
from spirit to spirit, like a flame along a powder train, till perhaps
a whole army feels it. Our horsemen pulled up among us in Chideock in
as bad a scare as you ever saw; it was twenty minutes before they dared
walk back to find out what had happened to the foot at Bridport, after
their retreat.

Our foot came back very angry with the horse. They had fired away a lot
of powder to very little purpose, before orders reached them, bidding
them retire. They had not wished to retire; but at last they had done
so sullenly, vowing to duck Lord Grey for deserting them. We had
taken about a dozen horses without harness, instead of the two hundred
equipped chargers which we had promised ourselves.

We had killed a few of the militia, so everybody said; but in the
confusion of the powder-smoke who could say how many? They were certain
that none of our own men had been killed; but in a force so newly
raised, who could say for certain which were our own men? As a matter
of fact several of our men had been taken by the royalists, which is as
much as to say that they had been killed. Altogether the affair had
been a hopeless failure from the very beginning. The foot had learned to
despise the horse. The horses had learned to be afraid of gun-fire. The
cavalrymen had learned to despise Lord Grey. The militia had learned to
despise us. The only valuable lesson that our men had learned was that
a battle was not so terrible a thing. You knelt down, fired your gun,
shouted, borrowed your neighbour's drinking bottle, took a long swig,
then fired again, with more shouting, till somebody clapped you on the
shoulder with orders to come away. But this lesson, precious as it was
did not console our men for their beating. They were cross with the long
night-march as well as