A light, drizzling rain fell, and the sky
was a dull grey.
I looked back, and waited for the destruction of my favourite station.
In our little house we had left pictures of my own children, and
everything that was not absolutely necessary to our existence. Even the
Queen and the Princess of Wales were to perish in the conflagration,
together with much that was parted with in this moment of exigency.
The smoke now curled in thick, white folds from the government divan and
our own private house.
Lieutenant Baker's new house was ignited. O ne by one every hut was
fired. The rear-guard, having done their duty, closed up in the line of
march.
I did not give the word "Forward!" until the flames had shot up high in
the air, and the station was in the possession of the fire. At this
moment a loud report announced that all the rockets had exploded. The
advance-guard moved forward, and the march commenced.
We soon entered the high grass, which was reeking with the light rain,
and we were wet through in an instant.
My wife was walking close behind me with a quantity of spare ammunition
for the "Dutchman" in her breast. She had a Colt's revolver in her belt.
Lieutenant Baker was heavily loaded, as he carried a Purdy rifle slung
across his back, together with a large bag of ammunition, while he held
a double breechloader smooth-bore in his hand, with a bag of heavy
buckshot cartridges upon his shoulder.
