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Updated: June 19, 2025
The fausse braye itself was dark, and the darker for a blaze of light behind it. Our stormers had carried it and swept the defenders back into the true breach beside the tower. Some stray bullets splashed among us as we toppled down the ditch and mounted the scarp shots fired from Heaven knows where, but probably from some French retreating along the top of the fausse braye.
Then, after many minutes of silence, suddenly the sky over the convent wall opened with a glare and shut again, and we heard the French guns tearing the night. The attack of the Third Division on our right had begun, and the noise of it was taken up by the 95th riflemen, spread wide in three companies to scour the fausse braye between the two breaches, and keep the defenders busy along it.
I could trace you the fausse braye and the main walls, and put my finger on the angle where our guns pierced the greater breach, and carry it across to the tower where, by the lesser breach, our own storming-party of the Light Division climbed into the town.
De Putron informed him that Coots, Waterhens, and Little Grebes bred that year in the Braye Pond; and Mr. De Putron, to whom I wrote on the subject, said the information I had received was perfectly correct. I see no reason to doubt the fact of the Moorhen occasionally breeding in Mr. De Putron's pond, and perhaps in other places in the Island, especially the Grand Mare.
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