With one hand he was clutching Allen's jacket, with the other a knife he was feebly waving about, one slash opening up a wound on Allen's left arm. While still clutching the hilt of his sword with his right hand Allen used his left to grasp the arm, was holding the blade. It was like trying to restrain a child, there was no strength in his enemy now, just a terrifying gasping as he started to sag, but the blade was still lodged in the man's stomach and try as he could, he could not extract it.
He was screaming as well, cursing, crying, oblivious to all that was around him until he saw Andre striding towards him, pistol raised and cocked.
The dying rebel saw him as well, and now tried to push back from Allen, whimpering, his cries like that of a girl which filled Allen with even more horror, wondering for a moment if indeed his victim was a woman caught up in this madness.
Andre pressed the pistol to the man's brow and pulled the trigger. The explosion was deafening, the ball tearing off the top of the skull. The body collapsed and Andre put his foot on the man's chest, and grabbing hold of Allen's right wrist pulled back hard.
The blade slipped out with a grating noise of steel against bone.
"Never thrust upwards into the chest!" Andre shouted, "The blade usually gets stuck."
Allen stood there dumbstruck, looking down at the body.
"Come on!" Andre shouted, grabbing Allen by the shoulder, "keep moving or it will be you that gets it."
He had seen many a man die in this last year but this was the first time that he had looked into the eyes of someone he was killing, the first time blood had been coughed into his face and he felt weak-kneed, fearful he would faint or vomit.
"Come on!" Andre screamed, pushing him along.
A wigwam shelter set into the woods was ablaze. Men were inside, screaming in anguish, while at the entry half a dozen light infantrymen stood with bayonets poised, shouting for them to come out. One man burst out and the light infantry fell upon him stabbing and stabbing again. Another came out to the same terror.
Two more tried to fight their way out and were slaughtered in turn.
"For God's sake" Allen screamed "Prisoners."
His cry was ignored as the light infantry stood ready, taunting the men burning inside to come out.
"Stop them!" Allen cried and he started to run over but was grabbed by Andre.
"You can't stop it!" Andre shouted. "Their blood is up! You can't stop it."
Allen, dumbfounded, looked about as dozens of wigwams burned, and at nearly every one, men were fighting with terrible desperation to escape.
All was mad confusion, light infantry, dragoons, a solid line of the Black Watch swarming into the encampment, while hundreds of rebels ran in every direction. Here and there fragments of companies and regiments tried to rally, one even managing to fire off a ragged volley and then was swarmed under.