I FIND MYSELF IN A DELICATE SITUATION
I staggered up the steps, reeling as from a blow on the head, and a negro
met me at the top.
"Where is your master?" I asked.
"Kun'l Ma'sh 's obah at Frederick, sah," he answered, looking at me with
astonished eyes.
"Your mistress, then, quick, boy!" and as he turned toward the open door
with a gesture of his hand, I hurried after him. There was a buzz of
conversation in the room as we approached, but it ceased abruptly as we
entered. I felt rather than saw that Dorothy was there, but I looked only
at the plump little woman who half rose from her chair and stared at me
in astonishment. I suppose my appearance was sufficiently surprising, but
there was no time to think of that.
"A gen'leman t' see yo', Mis' Ma'sh," said my guide.
I had not caught the name before, but now I understood, and as I looked
at the woman before me, I saw her likeness to her son.
"I am Captain Stewart, Mrs. Marsh," I said, controlling my voice as well
as I could. "You may, perhaps, have heard of me. If not, there are others
present who can vouch for me," but I did not move my eyes from her face.
"That is quite unnecessary, Captain Stewart," she cried, coming to me
and giving me her hand very prettily. "I knew your grandfather, and you
resemble him greatly." And then she stopped suddenly and grew very pale.
"I remember now," she said. "You were in dear Harry's company."
"I was not in his company, but I knew and loved him well," I answered
gently, taking both her hands and holding them tight in mine. "He was a
brave and gallant boy, and lost his life while trying to save another's.
I was with him when he fell."
She came close to me, and I could feel that she was trembling.
"And did he suffer?" she asked. "Oh, I cannot bear to think that he
should suffer!"
"He did not suffer," I said. "He was shot through the heart. He did not
have an instant's pain."
She was crying softly against my shoulder, but I held her from me.
"Mrs. Marsh," I said, "it is not of Harry we must think now, but of
ourselves. This afternoon I learned that the Indians had planned an
attack upon this place to-night. I sent my servant back to the fort for
reinforcements and rode on to give the alarm. As I neared the house, I
saw their war party skulking in the woods, so that the attack may not be
long delayed."
Her face had turned ashen, and I was glad that I had kept her hands in
mine, else she would have fallen.
"There is no danger," I added cheerily. "We must close the doors and
windows, and we can easily keep them off till morning. The troops will be
here by that time."
"Oh, do you think so?" she gasped.
"I am sure of it. Now, will you give the orders to the servants?"
But that was not necessary. The man who had shown me in had heard my
words, and already had the other servants at work, closing and barring
doors and windows. I saw that my assistance was not needed.
Then for the first time I looked at Dorothy. She was standing, leaning
lightly with one hand upon a table, her eyes large and dark with terror,
and her lips quivering, perhaps at the scene which had gone before. Her
mother was seated by her, and it was to her I turned.
"I beg you to believe, Mrs. Stewart," I said, "that I did not know you
and your daughter were here. Indeed, I thought you both were back at
Riverview ere this."
"I believe you, Mr. Stewart," she answered softly. "I believe you to be a
man of honor. I am sure I can trust you."
There was a tone in her voice which I had never heard before.
"Thank you," I said. "I shall try to deserve your trust," and then I
turned away to look to our defenses.
I confess that, after the first five minutes, our situation appeared more
perilous than I had at first believed it. There was no white man in the
house except myself, only a dozen negro servants, five of whom were men.
A boy, whom I sent to the negro quarters to bring reinforcements,
returned with the news that they were deserted, but he brought back with
him the overseer, a man named Brightson, who was to prove his mettle
before the night was out.
"I suspected this afternoon that there was something in the wind," he
said to me, when I had explained our situation, "though I could not guess
what it was. The niggers were so damned quiet, not singing in the field
as they always do. They've been mighty uneasy for a month back."
"Yes, I know," I interrupted. "It's the same all over the colony. They
think the French are going to help them kill the English. I'm rather glad
they ran away. How about these house niggers?"
"Oh, they're all right, especially Pomp there. They'll help us all
they can."
"That makes seven of us, then. Can you shoot?"
"Try me," he answered simply.
"All right," I said. "We'll pull through, I think. Indians are no good at
anything but a surprise. I dare say some of the niggers have told them
that there would be no men here to-night, so they think they'll have an
easy victory."
I had ordered Pomp to bring to the hall all the arms and ammunition in
the house, and at this moment he touched me on the elbow and told me
this was done. Brightson and I looked over the collection, and found it
as complete as could be desired. There were a dozen muskets, half a dozen
pairs of pistols, a pile of swords and hangers, and ammunition in plenty.
Evidently, Colonel Marsh had foreseen the possibility of an Indian
attack, and was prepared to receive it. A tour of the house showed me,
moreover, that it had been built with the same possibility in view. The
doors and shutters were all strong and double-barred, and moreover were
loopholed in a way that enabled us to command both approaches. I divided
the arms, and posted Brightson with three men at the rear door, while I,
with Pomp and another negro, took a place at the front. The women I sent
to the top of the staircase, where they would be out of reach of any
flying bullets, and could at the same time see what was going on. It was
my aunt who protested against this arrangement.
"Can we not be of use, Captain Stewart?" she asked. "We could at least
load the muskets for you."
"And I am sure that I could fire one," cried Dorothy.
"No, no," I laughed. "Time enough for that when there is need. They will
not fancy the reception they will get, and may not return for a second
dose." And with a sudden tenderness at my heart, right under the eyes of
Mrs. Stewart, I reached up, caught Dorothy's hand, and kissed it. When I
glanced up again, I saw that she was smiling down at me, but I dared not
look at her mother's face.
I had wondered at first why the attack was not made at once, but as I
stood looking out at my loophole, I perceived the reason. The first shade
of evening had found the moon high in the heavens, and it was now rapidly
sinking toward the line of trees which marked the horizon. Once plunged
behind them, the darkness would enable the Indians to creep up to the
house unseen. I watched the moon as it dropped slowly down the sky. The
lower rim just touched the treetops--then it was half behind them--then
it had disappeared, and the world was plunged in darkness. I peered into
the gloom with starting eyes, but could see nothing. I strained my ears,
but could catch no sound; three or four tense minutes passed, I could
have sworn it was half an hour. One of the negro women on the stair
screamed slightly, and, as though it were a signal, there came a great
blow upon the door and pandemonium arose without. I fired blindly through
my loophole, seized the musket at my side, and fired a second time, then
emptied both my pistols out into the night. It seemed to me a hundred
rifles were being fired at once. The hall was full of smoke and the
pungent smell of powder, and then, in a second, all was still.
But only for a second. For there came another chorus of yells from a
distance, and I could hear the negro women on the steps behind me
wailing softly.
"Load!" I shouted. "Load, Pomp! They will be back in a minute," and then
I ran to the other door to see how Brightson fared.
"All right," he said cheerfully, in answer to my question. "We couldn't
see 'em, but we emptied a good deal of lead out there, and I think from
the way they yelled we must have hit two or three." "Keep it up!" I
cried. "We'll drive them off easily," and with a word of encouragement to
the negroes, I returned to my post. As I neared the door, I saw two
figures in white working over the guns. It was Dorothy and her mother,
helping the negroes reload. I sent them back to the stair with affected
sternness, but I got a second hand-clasp from Dorothy as she passed me.
Then came another long period of waiting, which racked the nerves until
the silence grew well-nigh insupportable. The darkness without was
absolute, and there was not a sound to disturb the stillness. The minutes
passed, and I was just beginning to hope that the Indians had already got
enough, when I caught the faint shuffle of moccasined feet on the porch,
and again the door was struck a terrific blow, which made it groan on its
hinges. I fired out into the darkness as fast as I could lay down one gun
and pick up another, and again the uproar ceased as suddenly as it had
begun. As I turned away a moment from the loophole, I saw that Pomp had
sunk down to the floor, his hands to his head.
"What is it, Pomp?" I cried, as I bent over him, but there was no need
for him to answer, even had he been able. A bullet, entering the
loop-hole through which he was firing, had struck his left eye and
entered the head. The other negro and myself laid him to one side
against the wall, and when I went to him ten minutes later to see if
there was anything I could do, he was dead. I turned away to the women
to say some words of cheer and comfort to them, when a call from
Brightson startled me.
"What has happened?" I asked, as I reached his side, and for answer he
pointed out through the loophole.
"They have fired the nigger quarters and outbuildings," he said grimly.
"They'll probably try to fire the house next."
Even as we looked, the flames rose high above the roofs of the cabins and
bathed the clearing in red radiance. In and out among the buildings we
could see the Indians scampering, a hundred of them at least. Suddenly
there was a chorus of yells, and two Indians appeared, rolling a cask
before them into the belt of light.
"They've found a keg of rum which was in my quarters," remarked
Brightson; "now they'll get crazy drunk. Our task has just begun,
Captain Stewart."
I realized that he spoke the truth. Sober, an Indian will not stand up
long in open fight, but drunk, he is a devil incarnate,--a fiend who will
dare anything. I watched them as they knocked in the head of the cask and
scooped up the raw spirits within. Then one of them began a melancholy
melody, which rose and fell in measured cadence, the other warriors
gradually joining in and stamping the ground with their feet. Every
minute one would run to the cask for another draught of the rum, and
gradually their yells grew louder, their excitement more intense, as they
rushed back and forth brandishing their weapons.
"They will soon be on us again," said Brightson in a low tone, but round
and round they kept dancing, their leader in front in all his war
trappings, the others almost naked, and for the most part painted black.
No wonder I had been unable to see them in the darkness.
"They are going to attack us again, Tom, are they not?" asked a low voice
at my elbow.
"Dorothy," I cried, "what are you doing here? Come, you must get back to
the stair at once. The attack may come at any moment."
"You are treating me like a child," she protested, and her eyes flashed
passionately. "Do you think we are cowards, we women? We will not be
treated so! We have come to help you."
I looked at her in amazement. This was not the Dorothy I knew, but a
braver, sweeter one. Her mother and Mrs. Marsh were behind her, both
looking equally determined.
"Very well," I said, yielding with an ill grace. "You may sit on the
floor here and load the guns as we fire them. That will be of greater
service than if you fired them yourselves, and you will be quite out of
reach of the bullets."
Dorothy sniffed contemptuously at my last words, but deigned to sit down
beside the other women. I placed the powder and ball where they could
reach them easily, shaded a candle so that it threw its light only on the
floor beside them, gave them a few directions about loading, and rejoined
Brightson at his loophole. The Indians had stopped dancing, and were
engaged in heaping up a great pile of burning logs.
"What are they about?" I asked.
Brightson looked at me with a grim light in his eyes.
"They're going to try to burn us out," he said, and almost before he had
spoken, the Indians seized a hundred burning brands from the fire, and
waving them about their heads to fan them to a brighter flame, started
toward us.