Part 27 (2/2)

But he got no farther. M. de Radisson was upon him with a cudgel like a flail on wheat.

”An you think it risk to go, I'll make it greater risk to stay! An you fear to obey, I'll make you fear more to disobey! An you s.h.i.+rk the pain of toeing the scratch, I'll make it a deal more painful to lag behind!”

”But at night--at night,” roared G.o.defroy between blows.

”The night--knave,” hissed out Radisson, ”the night is lighter than morning with the north light. The night”--this with a last drive--”the night is same as day to man of spirit! 'Tis the sort of encouragement half the world needs to succeed,” said M. Radisson, throwing down the cudgel.

And G.o.defroy, the skulker, was glad to run for the marsh. The rest of us waited no urgings, but were to our posts on the run.

I saw M. Radisson pa.s.sing fife, piccolo, trumpet, and drum to the two tatterdemalion lads of our army.

”Now blow like fiends when I give the word,” said he.

Across the courtyard, single file, marched the New Englanders from barracks to boat. La Chesnaye leading with drawn sword, the marquis following with pointed musket.

Foret and La Chesnaye then mounted guard at the gate. The sailor of our company was heaping cannon-b.a.l.l.s ready for use. Jack Battle scoured the fort for odd headgear. M. de Radisson was everywhere, seizing papers, burying ammunition, making fast loose stockades, putting extra rivets in hinges, and issuing quick orders that sent Jack Battle skipping to the word. Then Jack was set to planting double rows of sticks inside on a level with the wall. The purpose of these I could not guess till M. Radisson ordered hat, helmet, or cap clapped atop of each pole.

Oh, we were a formidable army, I warrant you, seen by any one mounting the drift to spy across our walls!

But 'twas no burlesque that night, as you may know when I tell you that Governor Brigdar's forces played us such a trick they were under shelter of the s.h.i.+p before we had discovered them.

Foret and La Chesnaye were watching from loopholes at the gates, and I was all alert from my place in the bastion. The northern lights waved overhead in a restless ocean of rose-tinted fire. Against the blue, stars were aglint with the twinkle of a million harbour lights. Below, lay the frost mist, white as foam, diaphanous as a veil, every floating icy particle aglimmer with star rays like spray in sunlight. Through the night air came the far howlings of the running wolf-pack. The little ermine, darting across the level with its black tail-tip marking the snow in dots and dashes, would sit up quickly, listen and dive under, to wriggle forward like a snake; or the black-eyed hare would scurry off to cover of brushwood.

Of a sudden sounded such a yelling from the New Englanders imprisoned in the s.h.i.+p, with a beating of guns on the keel, that I gave quick alarm. Foret and La Chesnaye sallied from the gate. Pistol-shots rang out as they rounded the s.h.i.+p's prow into shadow. At the same instant, a man flung forward out of the frost cloud beating for admittance. M.

de Radisson opened.

”The Indians! The Indians! Where are the New Englanders?” cried the man, pitching headlong in.

And when he regained his feet, Governor Brigdar, of the Hudson's Bay Company, stood face to face with M. de Radisson.

”A right warm welcome, Your Excellency,” bowed M. de Radisson, bolting the gate. ”The New Englanders are in safe keeping, sir, and so are you!”

The bewildered governor gasped at M. Radisson's words. Then he lost all command of himself.

”Radisson, man,” he stormed, ”this is no feint--this is no time for acting! Six o' my men shot on the way--four hiding by the s.h.i.+p and the Indians not a hundred yards behind! Take my sword and pistol,” he proffered, M. de Radisson still hesitating, ”but as you hope for eternal mercy, call in my four men!”

After that, all was confusion.

Foret and the marquis rushed pell-mell for the fort with four terrified Englishmen disarmed. The gates were clapped to. Myriad figures darted from the frost mist--figures with war-paint on their faces and bodies clothed in white to disguise approach. English and French, enemies all, crouched to the palisades against the common foe, with sword-thrust for the hands catching at pickets to scale the wall and volleying shots that scattered a.s.sailants back. The redskins were now plainly visible through the frost. When they swerved away from shelter of the s.h.i.+p, every bastion let go the roar of a cannon discharge.

There was the sudden silence of a drawing off, then the shrill ”Ah-o-o-o-oh! Ah-o-o-o-oh! Ah-o-o-o-oh!” of Indian war-cry!

And M. Radisson gave the signal.

Instantaneously half a hundred lights were aflare. Red tongues of fire darted from the loop-holes. Two lads were obeying our leader's call to run--run--run, blowing fife, beating drum like an army's band, while streams of boiling grease poured down from bastions and lookout.

Helmets, hats, and caps sticking round on the poles were lighted up like the heads of a battalion; and oft as any of us showed himself he displayed fresh cap. One Indian, I mind, got a stockade off and an arm inside the wall. That arm was never withdrawn, for M. Radisson's broadsword came down, and the Indian reeled back with a yelping scream.

Then the smoke cleared, and I saw what will stay with me as long as memory lasts--M. Radisson, target for arrows or shot, long hair flying and red doublet alight in the flare of the torches, was standing on top of the pickets with his right arm waving a sword.

<script>