A DESPERATE DEFENSE
I had barely time to get back to my post at the front door when they were
upon us. I fired out into the rabble, and as I turned to get another gun,
Dorothy was at my side and thrust it into my hands. There was no time to
protest, even had I not realized, as I glanced into her eyes, that
protestation would be useless. I fired a second time, when a tremendous
explosion in the hall at my side startled me. I saw in a moment what had
happened. The negro who was at the other loophole, dazed with fear, had
discharged his gun straight into the ceiling overhead, and then, flinging
it down, turned and ran. I could not pursue him, and grabbing a third gun
from Dorothy, I fired again at the Indians, some of whom were swarming up
the steps. As I did so, I stared an instant in amazement, for at the shot
two men had fallen. As I turned back for another musket, I saw Mrs.
Stewart at the other loophole, a smoking rifle in her hands, into which
she was feverishly ramming another charge. It was a sight that made my
heart leap, and I found myself suddenly admiring her. But before either
of us could fire again, the Indians were gone, and a chorus of yells and
sharp firing told me they were attacking Brightson's side of the house.
The noise died away after a moment, and they appeared again borne
distance off, looking back eagerly as though expecting something.
I saw with a start that their firebrands were no longer in their hands,
and a moment later a puff of smoke from the corner of the house and the
exultant yells of the savages warned me of our new danger. As I turned
from the door, I met Brightson coming to seek me with an anxious face.
"They have fired the house, Captain Stewart," he said.
"I fear so. We must find the place and put out the flames."
Without a word he turned and followed me, and we opened the shutters a
little here and there and looked out. We soon found what we were seeking.
As the Indians had dashed around the house from front to rear, they had
approached the side and piled their burning brands against the boards. We
looked down from the window and saw that the house had already caught
fire. In a few moments the flames would be beyond control. I was back to
the hall in an instant.
"Is there any water in the house?" I asked of Mrs. Marsh, who was seated
on the floor reloading our guns with a coolness which told me where her
son had got his gallantry.
She looked at me an instant with face whitened by a new fear.
"Do you mean that the house is on fire?" she asked.
I nodded.
"There is no water," she said very quietly. "The well is a hundred yards
from the house."
I beckoned to the negroes, who were listening in an anxious group, and
hastened back to Brightson.
"There is no water," I said to him briefly. "I am going to open the
shutter, drop down, and knock the fire away from the house. Do you be
ready to pull me back in again, when I have finished."
"But it is death to do that," he exclaimed.
"No, no," I said. "You and the boys can keep them off. There is no
other way."
He turned from me and looked about the room.
"This will save you," he cried, and ran to a heavy oak table which stood
in one corner. I looked at him for a moment without understanding.
"We will throw it through the window," he explained. "You can drop behind
it, and the Indians' bullets cannot reach you."
I saw his plan before he had finished, and we had the table at the window
in an instant.
"Now, boys, all together," I cried, and as I threw the shutter back, they
lifted the table to the sill and pushed it through. Before the Indians
understood what was happening, I had dropped beside it, pulled it around
to screen me, and was kicking the brands away from the building. Then
they understood, and made a rush for the house, but met so sharp a
reception from Brightson and his men that they fell back, and contented
themselves with keeping up a sharp fusilade upon my place of
concealment. It was the work of only a few moments to kick away the
brands and beat out the flames which were running along the side of the
house. I signaled to Brightson that I was ready to return, and he opened
a heavy fire upon the savages, which drove them for a moment out of
musket range. Then throwing the shutter back, he leaned out, grasped my
hands, and pulled me into the house without a scratch.
"That's what I call genius," he observed, as he clapped the shutter tight
and shot the bar into place. "I fancy they're getting about enough."
"I trust so," I answered. "But in any event, our troops will be here in
two or three hours more."
We stood for some time in silence and watched the Indians. They drew
together near one of the burning buildings, apparently for a
consultation, and then running to a cabin which had not yet been
consumed, they tore off the heavy door and shutters.
"They haven't given it up yet," remarked Brightson grimly, "but they're
going to advance under cover this time."
Evidently some further preparation was necessary, for half a dozen of
them worked away busily for some time, though we could not see what they
were doing.
"What new deviltry are they up to now?" I heard Brightson mutter to
himself, but I could find no answer to his question, for I knew little of
this kind of warfare.
It was soon answered by the Indians themselves. A dozen of them ran
around the house in different directions, each carrying a board, while
the others, after paying a last visit to the cask of rum, grouped
themselves opposite the rear door, but well out of range. We watched them
in breathless silence. Those who were armed with shields approached
nearer and nearer, until within perhaps fifty yards. We fired at them,
but seemingly without effect. Then there was a moment of anxious waiting,
and almost together a dozen streamers of fire rose high into the air and
descended toward the house. Some fell harmlessly on the ground without,
and we saw that they were arrows tipped with burning tow, but the most
must have fallen upon the roof. A second and third shower of fire
followed, and then the Indians withdrew behind their shields and quietly
awaited the result.
"They have set fire to the roof," I gasped. "We must put it out at once,
or we are lost."
"Leave that to me, Captain Stewart," said Brightson quietly, and I
never admired the courage of a man more than I did his at that moment.
"I will get out on the roof, and throw the arrows down. I don't believe
they can hit me."
It was the only thing to do, and he was gone even as I nodded my assent.
Five minutes passed, and then the Indians began to yell again, and I knew
that Brightson had reached the roof. Almost at the same instant, the main
body of the savages advanced at a run, some of them carrying a heavy
log, the others holding boards in front of them. We sent a dozen bullets
among them before they reached the door, but they came on without
faltering. One man, very tall and clad in a suit of fringed buckskin, ran
in front and urged them on. I fired at him twice, but he came on as
before, and I knew that I had wasted the bullets.
Up the steps they came, yelling like devils fresh from hell, and brought
the log crashing against the door, while others thrust their muskets
through the loopholes and fired into the hallway. One of the negroes sank
down without a groan, the blood spurting from his neck, and another
dropped his gun with a yell, and, clapping his hands to his face, ran
shrieking down the hall.
Again the log thundered against the door, one of the bars sprung loose,
and half a dozen shots were fired into the hallway. I saw that the door
could hold but a moment longer, and shouting to the negroes to fall
back, I retreated to the stair, grabbing up a hanger as I passed the
place where we had piled the arms. Running back again, I caught up a
bag of powder and another of ball, so that we might not be utterly
without ammunition, and with these sped up the stair, pushing the women
before me.
We were not an instant too soon, for the door crashed down at the next
blow, and the savages poured over the threshold. They paused a moment to
see what had become of us, and this gave us opportunity to pour a volley
into them. Then on they came, the man in buckskin still leading them. As
they reached the foot of the stair, I took steady aim at him with my
pistol and pulled the trigger. But he seemed to have some intuition of
his danger, for he stooped suddenly, and it was the man behind him who
threw up his hands, sprang into the air, and fell backward. They faltered
only for an instant, and then swarmed up the steps, their greased faces
gleaming in the powder flashes. I thought it as good as ended, and
throwing down my musket, caught up my hanger for a final stand, when
something was thrown past me and bounded down the stair. It swept half
the Indians off their feet and carried them down before it, and the
others, not knowing what had happened, turned and ran down after them.
Nor, indeed, did I know until afterward, when I learned that Brightson,
coming down from the roof and taking in our peril at a glance, had caught
up a great log from the fireplace in the upper hall, where it was
awaiting the winter lighting, and, with a strength little short of
superhuman, had hurled it down upon the savages.
It gave us respite for a moment, but it was certain they would charge
again, and I knew too well what the result would be, for the last of the
negroes had flung down his gun and run away, leaving only Brightson and
me to guard the women. It was Mrs. Marsh who spoke the saving word.
"Why not retreat to the roof?" she said. "They could not get at us
there."
It was the only chance of safety, so to the roof we went, the women
first, and we two bringing up the rear. Once there, we closed the trap
and waited. In a moment we heard the yell which told us that our retreat
had been discovered, and then again came silence.
"This is no ordinary Indian attack," said Brightson, who was wiping the
sweat and powder stains from his face. "There's a Frenchman leading
them, and maybe two or three. Did you see that fellow in buckskin who
ran in front?"
"Yes," I answered gloomily. "I have fired at him three times, but always
missed him."
"Well, he is no Indian," said Brightson, "in spite of his painted face.
If they hadn't had that cask of rum and him to lead them, they would have
cleared out of this long ago. They have no stomach for this kind of work,
unless they are full of liquor."
The sky in the east was turning from black to gray, and the dawn was not
far distant.
"Our troops will soon be here," I said, and went to the women where they
were crouching behind a protecting gable. Dorothy, her mother, and Mrs.
Marsh were sitting side by side, and they all smiled at me as I
approached.
"I think we are safe here," I said as cheerily as I could, "and the
reinforcements cannot be far away. I know Colonel Washington too well
to think he would delay a moment longer than necessary to start to
our relief."
"You have made a brave defense, Captain Stewart," said Mrs. Marsh
earnestly. "I realize what would have been our fate long ere this, had
you not been here."
"Nay, madame," I interrupted, "I could have done little by myself. I
have learned to-night that the women of Virginia are no less gallant
than the men."
"Come, come," laughed Dorothy, "this is not a drawing-room that you need
think you must flatter us, Tom."
I glanced at Mrs. Stewart, and saw with some surprise that she too
was smiling.
"'Twas not flattery," I protested, "but a simple statement of fact. And
there is another here," I added, turning to Mrs. Marsh, "whose conduct
should be remembered. I have never seen a braver man," and I glanced at
Brightson where he sat, his musket across his knees.
"I shall remember it," she said, as she followed my eyes.
A burst of yells and a piercing cry from below interrupted us.
"What was that?" asked Dorothy, white to the lips.
"They have found one of the negroes," I answered, as calmly as I could.
"They ran away, and must have hidden somewhere in the house."
We sat listening, the women pale and horror-stricken, and even Brightson
and I no little moved. The yells and the single shrill cry were repeated
a second time and then a third, and finally all was still again save for
the negro women wailing softly, as they rocked themselves to and fro
behind the gable, their arms about their knees. I crept back to my
station by the trap and waited feverishly for what should happen next.
We could hear steps in the hall below, a short consultation and a
clanking of arms, and then all was still.
"Here they come," said Brightson, between his teeth, and even as he
spoke, the trap was thrown outward by a great force from below, and the
savage swarm poured forth upon the roof. I struck madly at the first man,
and saw another fall, pierced by a bullet from Brightson's gun, and then
he was down and I heard the sough of a knife thrust into him.
"They are coming! They are coming!" screamed a shrill voice behind me,
and I turned to see Dorothy upright on the roof, pointing away to the
southward. And there, sure enough, at the edge of the clearing, was a
troop of Virginians, galloping like mad. Ah, how welcome were those blue
uniforms! We could hear them cheering, and, with a leaping heart, I saw
it was Colonel Washington himself who led them.
For an instant the Indians stood transfixed, and then, with a yell,
turned back toward the trap. All save one. I saw him raise his musket to
his shoulder and take deliberate aim at Dorothy as she stood there
outlined in white against the purple sky. I sprang at him with a cry of
rage, and dragged his gun toward me as he pulled the trigger. There was a
burst of flame in my face, a ringing in my ears, I felt the earth
slipping from me, and knew no more.