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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 39. Desperate Times |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. DESPERATE TIMES In my heat and excitement I wondered that my father did not order his little company of men to begin firing at a time when every shot would tell, for there was a feeling of rage within me, roused by the wanton destruction of the cottages and every portion of the works that would burn; but I had not learned all my lessons then, and how a just and brave man, whether soldier or sailor, shrinks from destroying life until absolutely obliged. My father came upstairs for a minute about the time when I was thinking this the most, and I could see a peculiarly hard stern look in his eyes as the fire flashed through the window upon his face. "Mind: no firing," he said, "until they attack, and I give the word." I felt afterwards how right he was, but then it seemed almost cowardly. I soon altered my opinion, for all at once the French leader came up to the door and struck it with the hilt of his sword, as he exclaimed in French: "Now, Captain Duncan, surrender!" No reply was given. "Open this door and pass out the whole of the silver bars you have there," was the next command, and this time my father answered: "Come and take them if you can--_si vous osez_," he added in French. There was no more delay. A couple of men were ordered to the front with iron bars, and they began to batter the door heavily, but without any further effect than to chip off splinters and make dints. The men were called off, the rest standing ready to fire at anyone who should show a face at the windows, but we gave them no opportunity, for my father whispered: "They are sixty. We are only just over a dozen. Wait, men, wait." "What are they doing, Big?" I whispered to my companion, for he was in a better post for observations than myself. "I can't quite see," he whispered back. "They've got a bag of something, and they're bringing it to the door." I looked out quickly. "Powder!" I exclaimed, and then I ran to the head of the stairs and called down to my father: "They are going to blow in the door with powder." "Good!" said my father coolly, and issuing an order or two he drew all his men together into the back room. "Stay where you are, Sep," he whispered; "the explosion will not touch you, only, if we are hard pressed afterwards, come down with your men and take the enemy in the rear." I felt my heart swell with pride at being treated like this, and the nervous sensation of dread grew less. "Sooner the better, Master Sep," said one of the workmen. "Better keep away from the window, sir." "No," I replied, "I must see what they are doing." I felt that I must, and going to the window I stood upon a chair, and, keeping out of sight, looked down from the upper corner just in time to see a man run back from the door to join his companions, several of whom held rough torches of oakum steeped in tar. "What are they doing, Big?" I whispered. "That fellow has just laid a powder-bag by the door. But, Sep, you can't see any Englishmen there, can you?" "No," I said hastily; "but I'm sure that's the French skipper Gualtiere standing to the left of the French captain." "So it is," whispered Bigley. "I thought I knew the face. Look out!" "What are they going to do?" "The men are being drawn back, all but the fellows with the lights, and one of them is coming forward to light the powder. Yes; now all the others are retiring." "I can see," I whispered. "Now I can see the man with the torch. I say, will it blow the place up?" "I don't know," said Bigley in a low whisper; "but I feel horribly frightened." "So do I," I whispered back; "but don't let's show it, Big." "I won't," he said sturdily. Just then the man who had approached slowly made a dash in close to the house, and I was thinking that somebody ought to have shot him down when he dashed back again, and his friends received him with a loud shrill cheer. As the cheer died away there was a low hissing noise from outside, and I knew it was the fuse burning, and then we all shrank together to the farthest corner of the room, waiting in the most painful suspense for the explosion, which we knew must follow, but which seemed as if it would never come. It was only a matter of so many seconds, but they seemed to be minutes of terrible suspense, before there was a flash, the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, and then, in the midst of a terrific roar, the floor was lifted up, and one end then fell, so that we all slid down into the room below in the midst of splinters, plaster, dust, and broken joists, just as the Frenchmen uttered a yell, and came dashing towards the open door. What followed was one scene of wild confusion. It seemed that my father and his men came dashing out of the back room, and we were seized and dragged over the heap of broken wood-work and plaster, to be placed behind it, where we struggled to our feet, and then, in the midst of the clouds of blinding dust and choking gunpowder smoke, everybody made a breast-work of the damaged wood, and received the charge of the French sailors with pistol-shots and blows from the cutlasses. This proved so effective that they fell back, running out as fast as they came in, and my father took advantage of the lull to have a few pieces of furniture dragged forward, and laid upon the heap of refuse so as to give us a better breast-work to fight behind. "Hurt, Sep?" cried my father. "No," I replied, "only shaken." "That's well. Keep more back, my boy. Now, lads, cutlasses; here they come!" There was a yell and a rush, the clashing of steel, with shouts and groans, and the Frenchmen were beaten back again. "Time for breathing, my lads," cried my father, as we stood there in the darkness with the light full upon our enemies as they gathered at a short distance from the shattered doorway. "Who's hurt?" "No one much, captain," growled the foreman. "A few chops and scratches. Here they are!" For just then there was a yell, and the enemy rushed at us, coming in a little column, and this time led by an officer. They could only come in two at a time; but, as they darkened the doorway and made their rush, they spread out as they entered like a fan right and left, and once more the groans, yells, and blows rang out. It was clearer now, for the smoke and dust had floated out, and I could see something of the desperate fight that was going on, with men falling, and others of the Frenchmen from behind filling their places, for they kept on thronging in through the open doorway, till the counting-house was densely packed, and those behind literally drove their companions forward, till the rough breast-work was beaten and trampled down, and our little party forced back towards the wall that separated us from the inner room, in which there was a doorway leading into a back place, opening on to the cliff slope. I can't pretend to describe what took place accurately. All I know is, that in the midst of a scene of shouting, yelling, and clashing cutlasses, I found myself crushed against the back wall with my sword above my head, and my ribs seeming to give way, as I was pinned there helplessly, till all at once there was a tremendous crash, and we were all driven backwards in a heap, friends and enemies together. For the wood-work partition, already damaged by the force of the explosion, had given way, and we were precipitated into the back room. What followed I hardly know, for as the men struggled up from the ruin the fight began again, and the result was that I found myself with my father and five men in the little back place of all, where the door opened out into the valley; but of course it was locked and barricaded inside, and the door into the back room was held by my father, the foreman, and two others, who were keeping about a dozen Frenchmen at bay, yelling and cutting and thrusting at them. "Sep! Here! Quick!" my father shouted, without turning his head, for the enemy kept him occupied parrying their cuts and points. "I am here, father," I said, getting close behind him. "Right. Stand firm, my lads!" said my father. "We're beaten, but we must retreat in order. Ah, would you?" This last was to a Frenchman who dashed in at him, but only to have his thrust parried, and to go down with an upward cut which disabled his sword arm. "Sep," he whispered then, "open the back door. Be ready. We must now make a dash for the rocks. You lead; I'll keep the rear. Mind, my lads," he said to the stanch group about him, "keep together. If you separate you are lost. You'll be cut down or prisoners before you can raise a hand." These words were all said in a jerky way in the midst of plenty of cutting and foining; for, though the Frenchmen did not attempt to pass the doorway, they kept on making fierce thrusts at us, though with little result. I crept back and unfastened the door silently, so as not to draw the enemy's attention, and, holding my sword ready, I peered out, the noise going on drowning that I made with the lock and bolts. To my dismay I saw that there were three of the enemy on guard, and, closing the door softly, I took a couple of steps back, and told my father. "Only three!" he said coolly. "Oh, that's nothing. Now, then, to the door! Hold it ready. In a few moments you will see us make a dash and drive these fellows back. Then we shall turn and follow you. Dash out with a good shout, and strike right and left. The men there are sure to run. Then all for the rocks, and don't look back; we shall follow." I obeyed him exactly. Just as I had the door ready to fling open, my father, the foreman, and the others suddenly sprang forward, as if about to drive the Frenchmen out of the counting-house, and they fell back. Then open went the door. I saw our fellows turn round, and, sword in hand and feeling as if I was going to my death, I dashed right at the three men guarding the back, shouting "Hurrah!" at the top of my voice. I felt sure that they would run me through, but my father was right. One ran to the left, another to the right, and the other straight on up the steep slope, and, as I cut at him desperately, down he went untouched, save by a stone over which he tripped, and we all went over him as we rushed up the valley side to the shelter of the rocks, and with the enemy swarming out and after us. It was rough work, but we knew our way. The enemy were strange, and before we had toiled up a hundred yards they began to tail off. In another hundred we were some way up, and panting behind a clump of rocks that formed quite a little fort, while below us we could see the enemy gathered together in a group, and evidently about to return. _ |
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