THE LAST FIGHT.
“Another attack!” exclaimed Carteret. “Quick, Amherst, or they’ll be
swarming about our ears. Take charge of your men again. It is our last
chance!”
“And my parole?” I asked, coldly.
“Is not required. You are not on parole. You are free.”
Out dashed Carteret, tossing the pardon to Lucille.
“It will be a battle to the death,” he called back.
Simon, who looked the picture of disappointed rage, hurried from the
room. I had only time to embrace and kiss Lucille, to tell her to keep
up a brave heart, and then I rushed out to take my place among my men.
The din was terrific. Added to the yells of the savages, and the gun
shots, were the cries of defiance from those within the stockade who had
rallied to the fight, discharging their muskets as fast as they could
load. So quickly had the attack of the Indians been met, due to the
vigilance of the sentinels, that only a few of the red men gained the
top of the palisades. These had been shot down, and the van of the
storming force had been obliged to retreat, but they fired from behind
rocks and trees, some of the bullets wounding our soldiers.
I reached the stockade at a point where there were none of my men, just
as one savage, his scalp lock gay with feathers, gained the top of the
posts, and with reckless bravery leaped down inside. No sooner had he
recovered his footing than he dashed straight at me. I was so surprised
at the suddenness of his appearance and action, that I stood still for a
moment.
The Indian raised his arm, there was a flash of light, and his tomahawk
grazed my temple, cutting the skin slightly. Then the fellow sprang at
me. But my sword was out, and ere he reached me I had run him through
the body. So he never threw any more tomahawks.
The attack on the fort was becoming more fierce every second. I was
startled to see that the sun had gone down, and that it would be dark in
a little while. This was borne upon me when I saw the ruddy reflection
of a fire which the Indians had kindled in front of the block. It shone
on the logs, but cast into shadow the savages who were behind it. Thus
they could see whatever went on in the place, while we were blinded by
the glare, and could not observe them.
Our only hope lay in keeping up a rapid fire, so that they might not get
near enough to charge. And this hope was bound to become futile soon.
Indeed our position was most trying. I was encouraging my men all I
could, firing a musket every time I saw so much as a finger of the enemy
exposed, and all the while trying to devise some plan to beat off the
foe when Captain Carteret sent a messenger to bid me come to him.
Telling the men to be as sparing of the powder as they could, and to
never leave the loops for an instant, I went to the commander.
I found him loading and firing away at a great rate. He took me to one
side.
“I’ve been noticing some sort of a movement among the Indians at the
rear of the place,” he said. “I fear they are up to some trick. It looks
as if they were carrying brush and branches of trees about.”
“That means but one thing,” I said.
“What?”
“They are going to smoke and burn us out. Going to try us by fire as
well as by bullets.”
“To the tower,” he rejoined, “we can see what they are doing from
there.”
It was as I had said. Already the savages had piled up a big heap of
brush within a short distance of the north wall of the palisade.
“Well,” said Carteret grimly, “I guess they mean to get at us after
all.”
“It looks so,” said I.
“Have you any plan?” inquired the Captain.
“Have you?” I asked, but he made no reply.
The sight of one of our men rolling out a keg of powder, from which to
distribute a supply, gave me an idea.
“How much powder have we?” I asked of Carteret.
“Three kegs,” he answered. “Two of a hundred and fifty pounds’ weight
each, and one smaller.”
“It might serve,” I said, half to myself.
“What?” asked my companion.
Then I told him a plan I had. We went down from the tower.
“Bring the powder here,” I said, “the two large barrels,” and it was
fetched by four men, two carrying a keg between them. At my direction
they also got some strong rope. I called Carteret out of hearing of the
men.
“What I am going to do has some danger in it,” I said, “and, seeing that
I may not return, I charge you to care for--for Mistress Lucille,
after--well--after I am dead.”
“She shall be to me as my own daughter,” he exclaimed, grasping my hand
heartily.
“This is what I will do,” I said. “The Indians are so busy carrying
brush now that they are giving little heed to aught else, even to each
other. I believe I can go out among them under cover of the dark, escape
detection, and help them at their work.”
“What serves that?”
“Much, I hope,” was my reply. “I did not tell you all of the plan
before. My brush will be of good barrel staves, and within those same
staves will be powder. I will hide the two barrels in the brush-heap,
which I can easily do in the confusion, light the slow matches fastened
to them, come back to the block--if I can--then wait for what happens.”
“What will happen?”
“If all goes as I hope,” I said, “the Indians will be gathered about the
brush heap setting it on fire. Then will come my explosion.”
“Good!” exclaimed Carteret. “That ought to serve our purpose. If it only
kills enough of the devils the rest will be so frightened that they will
not remain long in the neighborhood of Elizabeth. But can you unaided
carry those two barrels over the palisade?”
“I have done heavier things,” I answered, thinking of the Salem press.
“It is a risk,” remarked the Captain. “Once among them it will go hard
with you if their lynx eyes spy you out.”
“Which is just what I do not intend them to do,” I said. “There is a
dead Indian within the stockade. I will put on his feathers, adopt his
style of dress, and play at being a savage.”
“’Tis somewhat foolhardy,” commented Carteret, “but you are a brave man,
and we have need of such now.”
“Any man would be brave, if he fought for what I do,” was the reply.
“Then go,” responded the commander, “and may the Lord go with you.”
So I made my preparations.
It was a matter of a few minutes to strip from the dead Indian his
feathered head-dress with which I managed to decorate myself so that, in
the dark, I might pass for a red man. I took off my jacket and trousers,
slipping on the breeches of the savage, and, when thus attired I rubbed
the upper part of my body, my face and hands, with damp powder, so that
my white skin might not betray me.
During this time the firing was not so brisk, either within or without,
for our men were saving their powder, and the Indians were busy heaping
up brush. The pile was now as large as a house, being within a few feet
of the stockade. It was between us and the foe, so we had little chance
to fire at them on that side of the block.
It was fairly dark now, but we saw the savages snatching up brands from
the fire they had kindled in front and running with them to the large
heap.
Carteret helped me make my last arrangements. I selected a place to get
over the stockade, that seemed to be somewhat screened from observation.
The powder kegs were tied to a rope. I scaled the logs, got on top,
hauled the barrels up, and let them down on the outside. Then I
scrambled down. For the first time I was a little afraid. Not so much
for what might happen to me, as for those I had left behind--for
Lucille. It was no small risk, too, this taking of nearly all the powder
from the fort. But it seemed the best we could do.
At the foot of the stockade I fastened the kegs over my shoulders with
the rope, one keg behind and the other in front. Up to this time I had
been hidden by the black shadow of the stockade, but now I was to emerge
into the open, when the deception I was practicing might be evident. The
barrels on my back and breast bulged out like some deformity; no light
load, either. I gathered up some brush, arranged it over the kegs as
well as I could and stepped boldly out.
Before I had gone far, I picked up a large branch that some Indian had
dropped. This served as a screen for me, as I held it over my shoulder,
and stooped as I plodded on. I must have borne some resemblance to the
dusky, brush-laden figures all about me, for several savages passed
close by me, and gave no sign that I was not one of them.
I nearly dropped my load, when, as I was near the pile, a tall Indian,
who seemed to be a chief, addressed some words to me. I recalled that
there were red men from several different tribes mingled together, so I
merely grunted in my throat, which sounds, I hoped, he would take for an
answer in his tongue. He appeared to do so, for he passed on, leaving me
alone, though in a cold sweat from the danger.
I was now in the midst of the Indians. They were all about me, hurrying
to and fro, getting in each others’ way, all the while adding to the
size of the pile of brush and wood. I crouched lower and lower, as I
neared the common centre, seeming to stoop under the weight of my
burden. The middle of the outer circle of the stack was where I wanted
to put the powder, that its force might be extended over a large space.
As I neared the spot I noted but one Indian near me. He had a small
tree-top, which he cast on the heap. As he turned away to get more fuel,
I managed to get rid of the kegs of powder. I rolled them under the edge
of the brush, working quickly and in silence. The fuses, which were made
of a number of slow matches fastened together, I trailed out on the
ground as far as they would go.
A loud call in the Indian tongue was now given. It was taken up, being
repeated from mouth to mouth, with different inflections. Soon I saw
what seemed like fireflies moving about in the darkness. But they were
human insects, and the lights they bore were brands to ignite the huge
pile of brush, which was so large that it needed to be set ablaze in
many places at once.
I lighted the fuse, the flash of my tinder-box being unnoticed amid so
many lights. There were no less than two hundred savages in a circle
about the heap, many busy setting it on fire. From the forest all around
more Indians were hastening to be ready for the rush, when the flames
had burned a way for them. I saw the spark of the fuse spluttering along
the ground, eating its way to the powder. It would burn for two minutes.
Then I ran for the stockade. As I did so I went, full-tilt, into a
half-naked savage.
He held a torch, the light of which must have showed him I was not of
his people. He opened his mouth to yell an alarm, but I knocked the
brand from his hand; then, while he stood still in surprise, I struck
him in the face with my fist. He staggered back, but before he could
recover, I was at the foot of the palisade. I heard him yell, as I
grasped the rope I had left dangling, but there was so much shouting and
crying out, that his was unnoticed. As I went up, hand over hand, I saw
that the pile was on fire in many places.
Down I jumped inside the stockade. Carteret met me.
“What success?” he asked quickly.
“All is well so far,” I said.
“Edward!” exclaimed a voice.
I turned, to see Lucille standing behind the Captain. I caught her in my
arms.
“To the block!” I cried. “The explosion will occur in half a minute.”
Lucille clung in fright to me.
“Are all the men back away from the north wall?” I called to Carteret.
“Yes,” he shouted back.
“What is it, Edward?” sobbed Lucille.
“It is life or death,” I answered, as I ran with her into the block
house.
The savages were yelling in chorus, like ten thousand devils now. The
flames were beginning to take hold of the dry brush, which was crackling
and snapping as if hungry to get at us. Inside the little fort were
huddled all that was left of the defenders, men, women and children. I
set Lucille down, but kept my arm about her. The fuses should have
burned to the end by this time. We could hear ourselves breathing while
we waited. Carteret turned to speak to me.
The next instant there was a glare that lighted up the sky, turning the
space between the palisade and the block from darkness into a noon-day
brightness!
Then a crash so loud, so terrifying, so awful, that the very earth and
sky seemed rent asunder as by a hundred thunderbolts. The solid ground
rocked; a very cradle in the hand of a giant. A great wind blew, howling
through the openings in the logs.
The sound deafened us. The blast swayed us as if a hurricane had swooped
down from the sky. Men caught their breath. Women screamed. Children
wailed as in fright at some unseen spirit of the night.
We heard the north wall of the stockade give a rending crack, succeeded
by a mighty crash. Then it fell outward, where the pile of brush had
been.
As for the block it pitched and seemed to toss--a frail ship on the
billows of the earth.
To the terrible noise and glare succeeded silence and darkness as of the
tomb. Slowly our sight and hearing came back.
Carteret and I staggered from the block and looked to where the north
wall had been. It was not there. In its place was a chasm, so deep that
it would have hidden the fort. Its sides were lined with blazing brands
from the scattered brush-heap. By the light of these, and by the glimmer
of the stars, we observed scores upon scores of silent dark forms in the
big hole, or near it on the earth. Toward the edge of the forest we saw
crouching forms hurrying off to bury themselves deeper in the woods,
away from the terror behind them.
We were saved!
The savages not killed had fled away, but of all that band scarce a
quarter lived to tell the tale.
A great cheer went up from the crowd within the block, when it was seen
what had occurred. Men cast their muskets aside, embraced their wives
and kissed their little ones.
“May the Lord bless you,” said Carteret to me, “it was you who saved
us.”
“Aye! Aye! A cheer for Captain Amherst!” cried several men. They gave
it, crowding about, trying to clasp me by the hand.
“It was nothing--nothing,” I protested, “any one of you would have done
the same, had you the chance.”
But they would not have it so, and, at length, weary of the praise, I
slipped away, to resume my own civilized dress.
The women busied themselves getting a late supper, which was eaten with
thankful hearts. After it was over, Lucille made me tell her all that
had taken place.
“And who carried out the powder?” she asked when I had finished.
“That was a small matter,” I said. “Having a little strength, more,
perhaps, than some of the others, I did it,” was my answer.
“Were you not afraid?” she inquired.
“Only that I might not again look into your dear eyes.”
She hid them from me with her hand. I pulled the little palm away,
kissing her on the lips.
So we sat talking until it was late. The block became quiet, for it was
filled with weary men and sorrowful women, who needed rest. We bade each
other good-night, Lucille going to the women’s apartment, while I
started for Captain Carteret’s room, where I was to sleep.
As I walked along the passage, I thought I heard a footstep behind me. I
turned quickly. At the far end of the corridor, where a single candle
threw a fitful gleam, I saw Simon.
He appeared to be gliding along, as if afraid of being seen. He slipped
in an open doorway when he saw me turn.
Was he following me? What did he want?
Carteret was not yet in. I threw myself down on a bench, meaning but to
rest until the Captain arrived. But, so weary was I, that, no sooner had
my head fallen back than I was asleep.