These men, however, were not so fortunate. They put the ladders in position, and ascended them so furiously that the best trained infantry could not have done better; but the Swedes, safe behind battlements, fired into their very faces, and hurled stones and blocks prepared for the purpose; under the weight of these the ladders were broken into pieces, and at last the infantry pushed down the assaulters with long spears, against which sabres had no effect.
More than five hundred of the best camp servants were lying at the foot of the wall; the rest passed the moat under an incessant fire, and took refuge again in the Polish intrenchments.
The storm was repulsed, but the little fort remained in the hands of the Poles. In vain did the Swedes roll at it all night from their heaviest guns; Kmita answered them in like manner from those cannon which he had captured. Only in the morning, when light came, were his guns dismounted to the last one. Wittemberg, for whom that intrenchment was as his head, sent infantry at once with the order not to dare return without retaking what had been lost; but Grodzitski sent reinforcements to Kmita, by the aid of which he not only repulsed the infantry, but fell upon and drove them to the Krakow gate.
Grodzitski was so delighted that he ran in person to the king with the report.
“Gracious Lord,” said he, “I was opposed to yesterday’s work, but now I see that it was not lost. While that intrenchment was in the enemy’s hands I could do nothing against the gate; but now only let the heavy guns come, and in one night I will make a breach.”
The king, who was grieved that so many good men had fallen, was rejoiced at Grodzitski’s words, and asked at once—
“But who has command in that intrenchment?”
“Pan Babinich,” answered a number of voices.
The king clapped his hands. “He must be first everywhere! Worthy General, I know him. He is a terribly stubborn cavalier, and will not let himself be smoked out.”
“It would be a mistake beyond forgiveness, Gracious Lord, if we should permit that. I have already sent him infantry and small cannon; for that they will try to smoke him out is certain. It is a question of Warsaw! That cavalier is worth his weight in gold.”
“He is worth more; for this is not his first, and not his tenth achievement,” said the king.
Then Yan Kazimir gave orders to bring quickly a horse and a field-glass, and he rode out to look at the earthwork. But it was not to be seen from behind the smoke, for a number of forty-eight-pounders were blowing on it with ceaseless fire; they hurled long balls, bombs, and grapeshot. Still the intrenchment was so near the gate that musket-balls almost reached it; the bombshells could be seen perfectly when they flew up like cloudlets, and, describing a closely bent bow, fell into that cloud of smoke, bursting with terrible explosion. Many fell beyond the intrenchment, and they prevented the approach of reinforcements.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” said the king. “Tyzenhauz, look! A pile of torn earth is all that remains. Tyzenhauz, do you know who is there?”
“Gracious King, Babinich is there. If he comes out living, he will be able to say that he was in hell during life.”
“We must send him fresh men. Worthy General—”
“The orders are already given, but it is difficult for them to go, since bombs pass over and fall very thickly on this side of the fort.”
“Turn all the guns on the walls so as to make a diversion,” said the king.
Grodzitski put spurs to his horse and galloped to the trenches. After a while cannonading was heard on the whole line, and somewhat later it was seen that a fresh division of Mazovian infantry went out of the nearest trenches, and on a run to the molehill.
The king stood there, looking continually. At last he cried: “Babinich should be relieved in the command. And who, gentlemen, will volunteer to take his place?”
Neither Pan Yan, Pan Stanislav, nor Volodyovski was near the king, therefore a moment of silence followed.
“I!” said suddenly Pan Topor Grylevski, an officer of the light squadron of the primate.
“I!” said Tyzenhauz.
“I! I! I!” called at once a number of voices.
“Let the man go who offered himself first,” said the king.
Pan Topor Grylevski made the sign of the cross, raised the canteen to his mouth, then galloped away.
The king remained looking at the cloud of smoke with which the molehill was covered, and the smoke rose above it like a bridge up to the very wall. Since the fort was near the Vistula, the walls of the city towered above it, and therefore the fire was terrible.
Meanwhile the thunder of cannon decreased somewhat, though the balls did not cease to describe arcs, and a rattle of musketry was given out as if thousands of men were beating threshing-floors with flails.
“It is evident that they are going to the attack again,” said Tyzenhauz. “If there were less smoke, we should see the infantry.”
“Let us approach a little,” said the king, urging his horse.
After him others moved on, and riding along the bank of the Vistula from Uyazdov they approached almost to the Solets itself; and since the gardens of the
