Part 65 (1/2)

”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 oak.u.m 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 st.u.r.dily.

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 das.h.i.+ng towards the open door.

What followed was one scene of wild confusion. It seemed that my father and his men came das.h.i.+ng 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 cutla.s.ses.

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, cutla.s.ses; here they come!”

There was a yell and a rush, the clas.h.i.+ng of steel, with shouts and groans, and the Frenchmen were beaten back again.