CHAPTER XXIV.A BLACK NIGHT.
At the time, so exciting and dangerous was the situation, I scarcely realized what had happened. The fight was still raging, and I was in the thick of it. Leaving others to render aid to the factor, I sprang with clubbed musket at the redskin who had shot him. I struck hard and true, and I yelled hoarsely as he dropped with a shattered skull. My comrades finished several more, and now the survivors—four in number—turned and fled. One scrambled safely over the stockade; the other three were cut down as they ran.
That ended the struggle. Again, and with terrible loss, our desperate foes had been repulsed. The moaning of the wounded was drowned in hearty cheers, and the musketry fire had dwindled to a few straggling shots. There was a sudden cry from the watch-tower that the enemy were in full retreat, and I ran to a loophole to see if this good news could be verified. It was true enough! The Indians were fading away into the curtain of snow, and in a manner that showed they had no intention of stopping short cf the forest, since none took to shelter in the clearing.
I peered out for a few moments, until not a savage was in sight. Then the triumphant clamor within the fort seemed to change to an angry and mournful key, and I heard the factors name called from mouth to mouth. As I turned from the loophole, Captain Rudstone met me face to face.
“He wants you,” he said. “Come at once.”
“Who?” I asked mechanically.
“Griffith Hawke, of course. Surely you knew he had been shot. He is dying, I believe.”
I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. The captain looked at me keenly for an instant, and then strode off. I followed at his heels, reeling like a drunken man, and with my thoughts in such a whirl as I cannot describe.
Griffith Hawke dying! It was difficult to grasp the meaning of the words. At first I felt bitter grief and remorse for the untimely end of the man who had been my greatest benefactor; I remembered his many kindnesses, and how basely I had requited them.
Captain Rudstone led the way to the little room at the base of the watch-tower. We pushed through the crowd outside and when I was over the threshold I saw a pitiable sight by the glow of a lantern. Griffith Hawke lay partly on a blanket, with Andrew Menzies supporting his head and shoulders. His face was ghastly pale, and there was blood on his lips and chest. The doctor, kneeling beside him, was preparing to give him a dose of spirits. Half a dozen sorrowing men stood about.
“His minutes are numbered,” Captain Rudstone whispered in my ear. “He is shot through the lungs. They brought him here because it was the nearest place of shelter.”
The factor looked up and saw me. He made a feeble gesture, and as I knelt by him the tears came to my eyes and a lump rose in my throat. I would have given anything to save his life; my sorrow was true and sincere.
“They tell me the fort is safe—that the Indians have retreated to the woods,” he whispered faintly.
“Yes, they have been beaten off,” I replied, “and with heavy loss.”
“Thank God!” he murmured. “They will hardly make another attack. All will go well now. Menzies, have you sent for Miss Hatherton?” he added.
“Yes, she will soon be here.”
The dying man lifted his head a little, looking at me with a smile. The doctor poured some strong liquor between his lips, and it instantly brought a brightness to his eyes and a tinge of color to his cheeks.
“That will keep me up for a time,” he whispered. “I have something to say to Mr. Carew, and I wish it to be as private as possible. You and the doctor must remain, Menzies, but the rest—”
A spasm of pain stopped him, and while he writhed with it all the men who were in the room, save we three kneeling by him, stepped quietly outside. He grew more comfortable in a moment, glanced wistfully at the door, and put a cold hand in one of mine.
“Denzil, my boy, it is only a question of a few minutes,” he said, in a low voice. “I am dying at my post, and without regret. It is better so.I nearly made a mistake, but I saw it in time. I know your secret—I suspected it days ago. You love Miss Hatherton—”
“It is true,” I interrupted hoarsely. “Forgive me, my old friend, and believe that I would not for the world have wronged you in thought or deed. I would have left the fort long ago, had you given consent—”
“Hush! there is nothing to forgive,” he murmured. “Mine was the mistake—mine the blame. It is only natural that you should have loved each other. I was too old to mate with one so young and fair. I had made up my mind to release her from her promise—to give her to you, Denzil.”
He stopped again, and I saw a sudden change in his face. The doctor answered my questioning look with a grave nod, and just then the door was thrown open and Flora entered. She gave me a glance of startled surprise, and knelt on the opposite side. Shaking the snow from her furred cloak, she bent over the dying man; her eyes filled with tears of grief and pity, and her lips trembled.
“Griffith, tell me it is not true!” she cried; “Live for my sake!”
He looked from the girl to me.
“God bless you both!” he said weakly. “Do not grieve for me, Flora. I loved you, but it was more the love of a father for a daughter. Now I leave you a legacy of happiness—a husband who will cherish and protect you. Promise before I go that you will be Denzil’s wife. I shall die the happier if I know that my mistake—is—atoned—”
The effort was too much for him. He gasped for breath, and his face turned the color of ashes, blood oozed to his lips. I was speechless with emotion, and Flora was weeping too bitterly for words; but I saw her lips move, and she suddenly stretched out her hand. I clasped it for a brief moment, and as I released it and looked at Griffith Hawke, he shuddered from head to foot and lay still, with closed eyes.
“He is dead,” said Menzies.
“Yes, it is over,” assented the doctor.
A silence fell on us all, broken only by Flora’s sobbing. Overhead, the sentries spoke in low tones while they watched at their posts, andoutside the wind howled a mournful requiem.
Through the remaining hours of that night the storm raged, heaping the snow in higher drifts, and keeping half a dozen men busily employed in clearing the entrances to the various outbuildings. That the Indians had taken shelter in the forest, and were not likely to attempt another assault, did little to lighten the general gloom and grief that pervaded the fort, for there was not a man but felt he had lost a friend in Griffith Hawke. As for myself, I had a heavy weight of responsibility upon me, and that prevented my mind from dwelling too much on other things. I gave a thought now and again to my new-born happiness, but the thrill of joy was as quickly stifled by bitter shame—by a vision of the dead man who had returned good for my meditated evil. Flora was in the care of Mrs. Menzies. Captain Rudstone had taken her back to the house, and I had no intention of seeking an interview with her until she should have partly recovered from the shock of the factor’s death.
It was indeed a black and dreadful night—a night of horrors and anxiety, of gloom and mourning. For the outlook was by no means so bright as we had let Griffith Hawke believe. What the result would be if the savages rushed us a third time none of us dared contemplate. It was too much to expect that they would abandon the siege, with men of the Northwest Company among them to egg them on; and if they knew our weakness, as was likely, another desperate attack was certain to come sooner or later. Out of a total number of forty-six at the beginning of the trouble, no more than half were now fit for service, the rest were dead or disabled.
These were stern facts that weighed heavy on my mind and held me sleepless and occupied while the night wore on. I saw well to it that the sentries were alert and at their posts, that muskets and howitzers were loaded and ammunition within easy reach, that the stockade was secure at every point. I fought off drowsiness and fatigue with cups of hot coffee, with pipes of strong tobacco.
Two hours before dawn the weather thawed a little and the snow turned to a drizzling rainfall. In the gray flush of early morning when I made my last round, it was bitterly cold again; a crust was on the snow, and the leaden skies promised an early resumption of the storm. To north and east the drifts reached halfway to the top of the stockade.
Bluish curls of smoke, rising here and there out of the surrounding forest, told that the Indians were still in the vicinity. The frozen crust was an incentive to them to make a final attack, and I expected it during the day. I ate a hasty breakfast, and then Menzies summoned me to the factor’s house, where he had called a meeting to consider the situation.
CHAPTER XXV.A RAY OF HOPE.
In all five of us assembled—five low-spirited, grave-faced men: the others were Menzies and Captain Rudstone, Dr. Knapp and an old and experienced voyageur named Carteret, whose judgment was to be relied upon. A discussion of a few minutes found us unanimously agreed that it would be impossible to repulse the Indians should they make another attack in force; nor did we doubt that such a crisis would come sooner or later.
“There is no chance of the siege being lifted,” said Captain Rudstone. “One or more disguised Northwest men are directing operations, and they must know——”
“I’ll swear Cuthbert Mackenzie is the leader,” I broke in. “He won’t neglect such an opportunity as offers now.”
“Right you are!” exclaimed Carteret, with a shrug of the shoulders. “It’s temptation thrown in the way of the redskins. Talk about easy! A firm crust on the snow, and the drifts nearly up to the top of the stockade I Why, they could pour a hundred braves into the fort before we could shoot down ten of them!”
“And they will do just that,” declared Captain Rudstone. “They know that we have lost heavily, and can’t offer much resistance to a rush. I’ll venture to predict that the attack is made late this afternoon, when the twilight begins to gather.”
“It will mean the loss of the fort,” said I. “We can’t shut our eyes tothat fact. We have a few hours of grace left; let us make the most of them.”
“But what are we to do?” said Dr. Knapp.
“Ay, what?” Menzies echoed dismally. “There’s no chance of help, you’ll admit, and even if a messenger had got through in time, Fort York couldn’t have spared us any men. As it is, they probably have no idea of what is happening here. Do you suggest that we lower our flag and surrender?”
“Never that!” said I.
“Then what other choice have we but to be slaughtered to a man?” continued the hard-headed old Scotchman. “Perhaps you will kindly explain, Mr. Carew, how we are to make the most of these few hours of grace.”
Menzies spoke sneeringly, and with an aggravating touch of irony; but I kept my temper, hoping that he would shortly alter his opinion of my advice. In truth, I had been turning a matter over in my mind while the discussion was going on, and I fancied I saw a way for some of us at least, to save both life and honor.
“If we surrendered, we should likely be slaughtered just the same,” I replied. “So that is out of the question. But I have a plan, Mr. Menzies—a sort of a middle course—to offer in the event of the fort falling.”
“Go on,” said he, with a contemptuous sniff.
“I must ask you a question or two first,” I replied.
“Dr. Knapp, how many wounded are in your care?”
“They are in Father Cleary’s care at present,” he answered. “But I have seven, Carew.”
“And how many are fit to travel, on foot or on sledges?”
He reflected for a moment, looking at me with surprise.
“Two will die before night,” he said, “and a third is in a bad way. The other four might make a shift on snowshoes.”
“It is better than I expected,” said I. “And now for my plan. This house, with its loopholes and heavy shutters, was constructed for such an emergency as the present. I suggest that we at once move in the wounded, three or four sledges, all the powder and ball and a quantity of provisions. If the attack comes, and we see that we can’t repulse it, we will all take shelter here, and in time to withdraw the men from other points. The house is practically fireproof, and I am sure we can hold it for a week or more, if need be.”
“It would catch fire from the outbuildings,” suggested the doctor.
“The Indians won’t burn those,” said I. “They will save them for their own protection.”
“And how is the siege of the house to end?” asked Menzies. “Do you expect the Indians to withdraw, or do you count on aid arriving?”
“I admit there is no chance of either.” I replied. “My idea is this. The inside of the inclosure is already deep under a frozen drift, and from the look of the weather there will be more snow in plenty within a few hours. We will excavate a tunnel beneath it, starting from one of the little windows that give air to the cellar, and leading to some part of the south stockade. Then in a day or two, when the night is dark and other conditions favorable, what is to prevent us from making our escape unseen to the forest, and by quick traveling gain Fort York?”
“The Indians would break into the tunnel while prowling about,” said Dr. Knapp.
“We won’t make it high enough for that.” I replied stoutly, “and, besides, the crust will be too hard.”
“It’s a sound plan!” exclaimed Captain Rudstone.
“Ay, I’m of the same mind,” added Carteret. “It’s well worth the trying. And it’s that or a bloody massacre—there are no two ways about it.”
“It seems a cowardly thing,” grumbled Menzies, “to yield the redskins all but this house, and then slink away from that under cover of darkness and by a trick. A rich lot of the company’s property will fallinto their hands!”
“True enough,” said I bitterly, “and the old flag-will be hauled down for the first time in the records! But consider, sir; there is nothing else to be done! Carteret has given you the gist at the matter. And think of the women!”
The blunt old Scotchman was touched in a tender spot; his face softened.
“Ay, my poor wife!” he said, with a sigh. “And Miss Hatherton! They must not fall into the power of these red devils—or of Cuthbert Mackenzie. It’s a level head you have on your shoulders, Denzil. I fear I spoke hastily—”
“As was your right,” I interrupted. “It was presumptuous of me to offer advice. But I am pleased to think that you favor my suggestion.”
“It is a last chance,” he replied, “and we must cling to it for the sake of the women. Were it not for them I would hold out to the end. Ah, the pity of it! To think that Fort Royal will be lost!”
“It will rise again stronger than ever,” Captain Rudstone said grimly, “when the Northwest Company has been crushed out of existence.”
“May I live to see the day!” said Menzies fervently.
We held some further discussion, during which a number of minor details were arranged. Then Dr. Knapp returned to the hospital, and Captain Rudstone and Carteret set off to acquaint the men with the proposed plan, and to see to the removal of the wounded and the various supplies to the factor’s house. Meanwhile, Baptiste having come in, he reported that there was no sign of any threatening movement on the part of the savages, and we fully expected none until evening.
I had promised my companions to take some sleep—which I stood badly in need of—but first I insisted on going over the lower floor of the house with Menzies. We examined all the rooms, the doors and walls, the shutters and loopholes, and I was satisfied with the inspection. When we returned to the hall Mrs. Menzies hailed her husband from above. He went upstairs and as I passed the open door of the room in which we had held our gathering, on my way out, I caught the flutter of a woman’s gown and heard my name pronounced in a whisper.
Stepping inside, I saw Flora. She was standing by the table, with a look on her sweet face that set my heart throbbing wildly. How it happened I scarcely knew, but the next instant she was in my arms, held close to my breast, and I was showering kisses on her unresisting lips and eyes.
“Denzil!” she whispered. “My hero—my own love!”
“At last, my darling!” I muttered. “You are mine! None can take you away from me. Say that you love me, Flora!”
“I do with all my heart!”
“And when will you marry me?”
“Some day, dear Denzil,” she replied.
She gently released herself and gazed at me timidly.
“Oh, it must be wrong to feel so happy,” she added with a little sob in her voice, “while he is lying cold and dead. How generous and noble he was! And think of it, Denzil, he intended to give me up! I am glad I was true to him.”
“I wish I had been truer,” I said bitterly. “But it is too late for regrets. A better man than Griffith Hawks never lived. He was worthy of you, Flora. Can I say more?”
“I will never forget him,” she answered softly. “Oh, this cruel, cruel war! And they say the fort is in danger, Denzil. That is what I wanted to ask you.”
“Don’t believe it,” said I. “There will be more fighting—perhaps a protracted siege—but our brave men will prove more than a match for the cowardly redskins. Trust to me, dearest. I will save you from, all harm and peril.”
At that moment Menzies was heard returning. I caught the girl in my arms, kissed her twice, and hurried from the house. All was quiet as I crossed the yard, and I observed that fine flakes of snow were commencing to drop. Flora was mine! I could think of nothing else when I entered my quarters, but, for all that I was so worn out that I fell asleep the moment I threw myself on the bed.
CHAPTER XXVI.AS TWILIGHT FELL.
For more than twenty-four hours I had taken no repose, and as nothing occurred to rouse me, I slept longer than I intended. When I opened my eyes languidly the room was so dark that I could scarcely make out a chair against the wall, and the window-panes were crusted with frost and snow. At once I was wide awake, and all the incidents of the morning flashed into my mind. I knew that this was the time when the attack was expected, and for a moment I sat up and listened anxiously, but I heard only a distant hum of voices.
“All is well so far,” I thought. “I hope no precautions have been neglected, for when the storm bursts it will be sudden and fierce.”
I threw off the blankets that covered me, and leaped out of bed. Hastily donning my fur capote, cap and mittens, and taking my loaded musket, I left the quarters without encountering any person.
I paused outside to look about, and the scene that met my eyes was a dreary one. The inclosure was shrouded in the murky gray gloom of twilight. It was bitterly cold, and snow was falling fast. The various outbuildings loomed dimly here and there between the narrow paths and high-banked drifts. The only ray of light visible was behind me, and shone from the window of Flora’s room. As I turned from a brief contemplation of it, I saw a man passing and hailed him. He proved to be Baptiste.
“Why was I not wakened?” I demanded sharply. “Here is the night upon us, and I wished to be up at noon.”
“Mr. Menzie’s orders, sir,” he replied. “He said you were not to be disturbed.”
I questioned Baptiste further, and learned that there had been no alarm during the day, and that not an Indian had shown himself. He alsorelieved my mind concerning the preparations for holding the factor’s house.
“They moved everything in,” he said; “food and blankets, all the powder and ball, four sledges, and the wounded men.”
“And the dead, Baptiste?”
“They are buried, sir—under the snow.”
“Ah, then no time has been wasted,” said I. “If the worst comes we shall be ready—”
“There is nothing more to be done, Carew,” interrupted a voice at my elbow. “No step that prudence or forethought could dictate has been omitted.”
The speaker was Captain Rudstone, who had approached unperceived.
“Has your sleep refreshed you?” he added.
“Very much,” I replied. “I feel fit for another stretch of fighting. What is the situation now?”
“The calm before the storm, to my mind,” he declared. “Sentries are posted to command a view from every side of the fort. Both towers will be abandoned at the first alarm, and all the men will rush to the quarter whence it comes, those are the general orders. If the redskins prove too strong for us, we will retreat to the factor’s house.”
“Ay, and hold it,” said I. “The place is impregnable, Rudstone!”
“That remains to be seen,” he answered. “Go and get some supper, Carew, while you have the chance.”
“Then you think the attack is imminent?”
“Yes, it may come at any moment.”
“But Baptiste tells me the Indians have made no sign all day.”
“True enough,” assented the captain, “and that’s the worst of it. Theyare hatching some deep-laid deviltry, be sure! I have my suspicions, and I communicated them to Menzies. He agrees with me that the attack will probably burst upon us in the form of a—”
He never finished the sentence. The words were stifled on his lips by a tremendous explosion that seemed to shake the very ground, and rattled and thundered far away into the heart of the wilderness. A crash of falling debris followed, and then the night rang with shrill clamor and blood-curdling whoops.
“Nom de Dieu!we are lost!” wailed Baptiste.
“My God, what does it mean?” I cried, clutching Captain Rudstone’s arm with a trembling hand.
“My prediction, Carew,” he answered hoarsely. “It has come—it is what I expected. The devils have tunneled under the snow and planted a powder bag against the stockade. They have blown a breach.”
“We’ll keep them out of it as long as we can,” I shouted. “Hark! the fighting has begun.”
The captain and I had already set off on a run, and Baptiste was hanging at our heels. Shouting and yelling rose from all parts of the fort, and blended with the wild cheers of the savages. Dark forms loomed right and left of us as we sped on. Guided by the clamor and by the great column of smoke that was stamped blackly against the driving snow, we soon reached the scene of the explosion, which was the northeast watch-tower.
It is impossible to describe the sight that was revealed to us by the first rapid glimpse. All that day the redskins must have been burrowing a passage beneath the drifts from the woods to the fort. They had planted a bag or cask of powder at the very base of the tower, and blown it into a heap of ruins, out of which could be seen sticking the bodies of the two poor fellows who had been on duty there. As yet only a small force of Indians—those who had approached by the tunnel—were storming the breach, and these were being held at bay by a dozen of our men who had reached the spot before the captain and myself. Muskets were cracking, and tomahawks were flying through the air; the yells of invaders and invaded made a horrible din.
At the first I saw some hope of holding the sheltered place—of beatingthe enemy off. I plunged into the thick of the fight, emptying my gun into the breast of a red devil, and bringing the butt down on the head of another. We pressed close up to the sides of the tower, and gained footholds on the ruins. Hand to hand we fought desperately, shooting and striking at the Indians and keeping them on the outside of the fort. Not many of them had firearms, and so far as I could see, but one of our men had fallen.
“Stand up to it!” I shouted. “Hold your ground!”
“Hit hard!” cried Captain Rudstone. “Finish all you can before the main rush comes!”
Flushed with triumph, half-crazed by the thirst for blood, we did not pause to reflect that the scale must soon turn the other way. Face to face, weapon to weapon, we held the savages at bay, sending one after another to his last account. Meanwhile more men kept joining us, until, excepting a few who were on duty at other points, our whole available force was present. I heard Andrew Menzies giving directions. I saw Father Cleary on my left and Christopher Burley on the right, both striking at the painted faces behind the shattered walls.
“This is hot work, Carew,” Captain Rudstone found a chance to shout in my ear, “and it’s precious little use to keep it up. The devils will soon be at us in their hundreds. Now is the time to make a safe retreat to the house.”
“I think the same,” I answered, as I dodged a whizzing tomahawk; “and if Menzies don’t soon give the command I will.”
The words were scarcely out of my mouth when the clamor took a deeper, shriller pitch. We all knew what it meant—the tide was turning. Through the gaping holes in the watch tower stamped against the snowy mist, we saw a dark mass rolling forward—scores and scores of painted Indians.
CHAPTER XXVII.THE SIEGE OF THE HOUSE.
They had started from the woods the moment the explosion occurred, and they would have arrived earlier but for the fresh snow that lay on the frozen crust.
“Stand firm!” cried Menzies. “Give them a raking volley at close quarters.”
“And be ready to retire in good order,” I shouted. “We can’t afford to lose a man.”
With that the living tide was upon us. Screeching and veiling like demons, the horde of savages struck the weakened northeast angle of the fort. There was no checking them, though our muskets poured a leaden rain. Some entered by the breach, dashing over the debris of wood and stone; others clambered to the top of the palisades and dropped down inside.
At the first we had to retire a little, so overwhelming was the rush. Then we made a brief stand and tried to stem the torrent. Bang, bang, bang! bullets flew thickly, from both sides and hissing tomahawks fell among us. I saw two men drop near me, and heard cries of agony mingling with the infernal din. We held our ground until the foremost of the savages were at arm’s length, striking and hacking at us through the snow and powder smoke. Two or three score were already within the fort, and when a section of the stockade fell with a crash—borne down by sheer weight—I believed for a terrible moment that all was lost.
“Back, back!” I cried hoarsely. “Back for your lives, men! We can’t do anything more here!”
“Ay, the inclosure is taken!” shouted Captain Rudstone. “Back to the house! Keep your faces to the foe, and make every shot tell!”
Menzies called out a similar order, seeing that any delay would imperil our last chance, and those of us who were left slowly began the retreat. We drew off into the narrow passage, with high banks of snow on either side, that led to the factor’s house. The yelling redskins pressed after us, and for several moments, by a cool and steady fire, we prevented them from coming to close quarters again.
We kept firing and loading while we moved backward, and as it was next to impossible to miss, the Indians seemed disheartened by the heavydamage we inflicted on them. For ourselves, we lost three men in a brief time, and we would have lost more but for the shelter of the outbuildings, round some of which the path turned.
When we were halfway to the house, and had passed the quarters, we were joined by the sentries from the southwest tower. But now the savages plucked up courage, and made a rush that brought them within six yards of us. We stood at bay, and delivered a straggling fire. The Indians returned it as they pushed on doggedly. A voyageur fell at my side, and another dropped in front of me. There was a sudden cry that the priest was shot, and glancing to the right, I saw Father Cleary reel down in the snow and lie motionless.
“We must run for it!” shouted Captain Rudstone. “Make a dash for the house, men!”
“For God’s sake, no!” I yelled hoarsely. “If we turn now we will be overtaken and butchered! Hold firm!”
Just then, when the situation was most critical, an unexpected thing gave us the opportunity we so sorely needed. In the retreat we had dragged one of the howitzers along with us, and we had forgotten until now that it was loaded. In a trice we put it in position and touched it off.
Crash! The heavy charge ploughed into the huddled mass of savages. To judge from the agonized shrieks that followed the loss of life must have been terrible, but we could see nothing for the dense cloud of smoke that hung between us.
“To the house!” cried Menzies.
“Quick—for your lives!” I shouted.
With that we turned our backs and made off, dashing along in some disorder and leaving the howitzer behind. We half expected to be overtaken, but by the time the Indians had recovered from their check and pushed on, the house was before us.
We staggered inside by twos and threes, and closed and barred the massive door. A respite for rest and breathing was badly needed, but we did not dare to take it. Half of our men went to the front loopholes,and as fast as they could load and fire they picked off the yelling wretches who were now swarming thickly before the house. In their frenzied rage they exposed themselves recklessly, sending volley after volley of lead against the stout beams and even hurling tomahawks.
I took no part in this scrimmage myself. With Menzies and several others I went over the lower floor of the house, and made sure that all was in right condition for a protracted siege. We placed lighted candles in the hall, and opened the doors communicating with it, so that some light could shine into the various rooms.
Meanwhile the firing had dwindled and ceased, and when we returned to the front we found that the Indians had abandoned the attack and melted away; none were in sight from the loopholes, but we could hear them making a great clamor in the direction of the trading house and other outbuildings.
This relief gave us a chance to consult regarding our future plans, and to count up our little force. Alas! but sixteen of us had entered the house. That was our whole number; the rest of the forty odd had perished during the fighting of the past two days; and not the least mourned among that night’s casualties was brave Father Cleary. Fortunately, none of us were disabled, though Christopher Burley had been grazed by a bullet, and Captain Rudstone and several others had been gashed slightly by tomahawks. The wounded transferred from the hospital, who were in a small room at the rear, were now reduced to five; two had died that morning, as Dr. Knapp predicted.
But there was no time for useless grief or idleness. We had no sooner served out rations, loaded all the guns and posted the men on the four sides of the house than the Indians showed a determination to crown their triumph by taking our stronghold. At first they kept to the shelter of the surrounding outbuildings, and blazed steadily away at the house, on the chance of sending a bullet through the loopholes or the chinks of the logs. Twice a little squad of savages rushed forward carrying a beam, with which they hoped to batter down the door. But we poured a hot fire into them—it was light enough outside for us to take aim—and each time they wavered and fell back, leaving the snow dotted with dead bodies.
After that came a lull, except for intermittent shots, and Captain Rudstone predicted that an unpleasant surprise was being prepared for us by the Northwest men whom we believed to be among the redskins.
“It may be all that,” I answered him stoutly, “but the house is not to be taken.”
A little later I took advantage of the inaction to go upstairs, whither Menzies had already preceded me. He was with his wife and Miss Hatherton in a back room with one small window, and that protected by a heavy shutter.
I drew Flora aside and explained to her, as hopefully as possible, the plan by which we expected ultimately to escape to Fort York. What else I said to her, or what sweet and thrilling words she whispered into my ear, I do not purpose to set down here; but when I returned to the lower floor my heart was throbbing with happiness, and I felt strengthened and braced to meet whatever fate might hold in store. I was strangely confident at the time that we should outwit our bloodthirsty foes.
Menzies followed me below, and almost at once the Indians renewed the attack, mainly on the front of the house and on the north side. They exposed themselves on the verge of the outbuildings, blazing away steadily, and drawing a constant return fire from our men. At the end of a quarter of an hour they were still wasting ammunition. They must have suffered heavily, and yet not one of their bullets had done us any harm. I wandered from room to room, taking an occasional shot, and finally I stopped in the hall, where Captain Rudstone and three others were posted at the loopholes right and left of the door.
“The Indians will run out of powder presently; if they keep up at this rate,” said I. “They can’t have much of a leader.”
“Too clever a one for us,” the captain answered, as he loaded his musket. “This is only a ruse, a diversion, Carew. There is something to follow.”
“I hope it will come soon,” I replied. “Then the savages will likely draw off and give us a chance to put a force of men to work at the tunnel. We should finish it by noon to-morrow, and escape through it at nightfall. If the snow keeps up—as it gives promise of doing—our tracks will be covered before we have gone a mile.”
“I like the plan,” said old Carteret, the voyageur. “It sounds well, and it’s possible to be carried out under certain conditions. But if you’llnot mind my saying—”
He paused an instant to aim and fire.
“One redskin the less,” he added, peering out the loophole; “he sprang three feet in the air when I plugged him. As for your plan, Mr. Carew, I think the odds are about evenly divided. There’s the chance that the varmints will suspect something of the sort, and watch the stockade on all sides.”
“Likely enough,” assented Captain Rudstone; “but it’s not to that quarter I look for the danger. The Indians can take the house by assault in an hour if they choose to sacrifice a lot of lives.”
“It would cost fifty or a hundred,” said I. “They won’t pay such a price.”
“There is no telling how far they will go,” the captain answered gravely, “with Northwest Company men to egg them on.”
As he spoke there was a sudden and noisy alarm from the room on the right of the hall, which commanded the south side of the house. Half a dozen muskets cracked in rapid succession, the reports blending with a din of voices. Then Menzies yelled hoarsely: “This way, men! Come, for God’s sake! Quick, or we are lost!”
The summons was promptly responded to. I was the first to dash into the room, followed by Rudstone and Carteret. I put my eyes to a vacant loophole and what I saw fairly froze the blood in my veins.
CHAPTER XXVIII.THE END OF HOPE.
A body of Indians—nine or ten in number—were advancing at a run straight for the house, and each painted savage carried wrapped in his arms a mass of bedding from the abandoned sleeping quarters. I had no sooner caught a glimpse of the party and divined their alarming purpose,than a straggling volley was fired from the loopholes right and left of me. Crack! crack, crack!
Three Indians fell with their burdens, and one of them began to crawl away, dragging a broken limb after him. A fourth took fright and darted back, but the rest kept on. They were lost to view for an instant as they gained the very wall of the house and stacked the bedding against it. Then back they scurried to the shelter of the outbuildings, a single one falling by my musket, which I thrust quickly out and fired. Unfortunately my companions’ weapons were empty.
“Load up, men, fast!” cried Menzies. “The devils intend to fire the house! They will be coming back with timber next!”
“God help us if they get a blaze started with bedding and dry wood!” said I. “The house will go—we won’t be able to save it! I never counted on anything like this!”
“I was afraid of it from the first,” replied Captain Rudstone, “though I hoped we should have time enough to dig the tunnel. Our only chance is to keep the redskins away from the wall.”
“And that’s a mighty poor one!” muttered Carteret.
“We must do it,” groaned Menzies, “or it’s all up with us. We can’t get at the bedding; the fiends have put it too far off from the window.”
A noisy clamor interrupted our conversation, as the men from other parts of the house poured into the room, drawn thither by Menzies’ summons of a moment before. They were under the impression that a rush had been made and repelled; when they learned the truth they quieted down, and a sort of awed horror was visible on every face.
No time was wasted in words. At any instant the savages might return to complete their devilish task; the chance of beating them back, slight as it was must be made the most of. Our last card was staked on that, and we grimly prepared to play it. Eight men were assigned to the loopholes—there were four on each side of the shuttered windows—and five others, including Christopher Burley, brought powder and ball, and set to work to load spare rifles. The rest were sent back to watch at their posts, lest a counter attack should be made in those directions.
It had all been so sudden, so overwhelming, that I felt dazed as Ilooked from my loophole into the murky, snow-flecked night. Across the crust, dotted with ghastly forms, the outbuildings loomed vaguely. Behind them hundreds of bloodthirsty redskins lay sheltered; but there was scarcely a sound to be heard save the pitiful whining of the husky dogs who were shut up in the canoe house.
“Fate is against us!” I reflected bitterly. “A few moments ago I believed we could hold out for days—I was confident that we should all escape; and now this black cloud of despair, of death, has fallen upon us! Flora, my darling, I pray Heaven to spare you! God help us to beat the savages off—to save the house!”
Just then I detected a movement in the distance, and I knew too well what it meant. My companions saw it also, and they broke out with warning exclamations:
“Here they come!” “Be ready, boys!” “Give the devils a hot reception!” “Keep the spare muskets handy!”
“Take sharp aim and make every shot tell!” Menzies cried hoarsely. “Fire at those nearest your own side. My God, look yonder—”
His voice was drowned by one blood-curdling screech poured from a hundred throats. Through the driving snow a dusky mass rolled forward, and when it was halfway across the space we made out no less than a score of Indians each shouldering three or four planks of short length. With reckless valor they came on, whooping and yelling defiantly.
“They’ve taken the cut timber that was stored in the powder house!” cried Carteret. “It’s as dry as touchwood and will burn like wildfire!”
“We’re lost!” exclaimed Menzies. “There are too many of the fiends; we shall never drive them back!”
“It’s our last chance!” I shouted. “Steady, now. Fire!”
Bang! went my musket. Bang! bang! bang! rang other reports. The volley caught the savages at a range of twenty yards and as the smoke drifted up from the loopholes I saw the foremost, at whom I had aimed, sprawled on the snow. Three or four others were down, and two more dropped quickly. The rest darted on unchecked.
“Again!” I shouted. “Quick, let them have it! All together!”
We snatched spare guns from the men behind us, throwing down our empty weapons, and a second straggling volley of lead and flame blazed from the loopholes. But the smoke partly spoiled our aim, and the interval gave the redskins a terrible advantage. Half of them dashed on, under our very guns, and right up to the wall of the house, and the next instant we heard an ominous sound—the thump and clatter of the dried timbers as they fell against the logs.
“That’s our death knell!” cried Menzies. “Heaven help us now! We are lost!”
Heaven help us indeed! That there was no hope save for the intervention of Providence, every man of us knew. Some cursed their hard fate, and some shrieked threats and imprecations. Others seized the guns as fast as the relief men could load them, and fired at the now retreating savages, who went back with more caution than they came; for they first crept along the base of the wall to the left angle, and then darted over the crust in zigzag fashion toward the outbuildings, where their comrades were howling and whooping with triumph.
“Two down!” cried Captain Rudstone.
“And one for me!” exclaimed Carteret.
I watched for a moment, but no more Indians appeared. The rest had escaped to shelter, and they must have been few in number; for I could count eight bodies lying about in the falling snow, amid scattered strips of planking, and four wounded wretches were trying to crawl away. Their attempt had succeeded, but at a terrible cost of life. With a gesture of despair. I turned round.
“Have they all gone back?” I asked.
“I think so,” Menzies replied huskily. “They will rush us again directly, and fire the bedding and the wood. It’s all up with us!”
Crack! A gun spoke shrilly from a loophole on the right, and Baptiste’s voice shouted with elation:
“Bonne! bonne! another redskin! He ran out from beneath the window! Heis dead now—I shot him in the back!”
“But why did he stay behind the rest?” Menzies asked suspiciously.
“To light the fire!” cried Carteret. “My comrades, it is Heaven’s will that we perish!”
The old voyageur was right. As he spoke he pointed with one band to the loopholes. We saw a red glare spreading farther and farther across the trampled snow crust, and heard a hissing, crackling noise. The dead Indian had ignited the heaped-up material, probably by means of flint and steel.
The flames leaped higher, throwing ruddy reflections yards away. They roared and sang as they devoured the inflammable mattresses, stuffed with straw, and laid hold of the dry timbers piled above. They spat showers of sparks, turned the falling snowflakes to specks of crimson, and drove curls of thick yellow smoke into the room through the chinks of the now burning logs. The house was doomed, and we who were caught there in the meshes of death, fated to perish by agonizing torture, looked at one another with white faces and eyes dilated by horror, with limbs that trembled and lips that could not speak. Outside, across the inclosure, the hordes of savages shrieked and yelled with the voices of malicious demons. From the hall, from the rooms beyond it, the rest of our little band came running in panic to learn the worst and share our misery.
Christopher Burley fell on his knees and clasped his hands in prayer.
“O, God, save us!” he cried. “Let me live to see London again.”
“The fire is just to the left of the window,” exclaimed Captain Rudstone. “If we had water—”
“There’s only one small cask in the house,” interrupted Carteret, “and if we had plenty we could do nothing. Fifty bullets would enter by the window the moment the shutter was opened.”
With terrible rapidity the flames spread, roaring like a passage of a wind storm through treetops. Out in the snow it was as light as day, and one could have counted the streaks of paint on the faces of the dead savages by the awful red glare. The chinks between the logs were flickering lines of fire, and the smoke puffed through so thickly as tomake us cough and choke, and fill our smarting eyes with water. The heat grew intense, and drops of perspiration rolled down our cheeks.
Crack! crack—crack—crack! The Indians suddenly began to fire at the loopholes, which were now distinctly outlined against the flame-lit wall. By twos and threes the guns went off, blending with a din of whooping voices, and the bullets pattered like hail. Menzies spun around and clutched at his right arm, which was bleeding above the elbow. A ball whizzed by my ear and another struck Dr. Knapp just between the eyes; he fell with a crash and lay quite still.
It was clear that the savages had the range of the loopholes, and with one accord we fled from the room, taking the powder canisters with us. In the hall a candle was burning on a shelf, and by the dim glow I saw Mrs. Menzies and Flora coming hurriedly down the stairs.