Defending the Island: A story of Bar Harbor in 1758Otis, James
History
Defending the Island: A story of Bar Harbor in 1758
Otis, James
Mount Desert Island (Me.) -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Juvenile fiction
The officer was laid in one of the boats, and the soldiers gathered
around him, the able-bodied gesticulating furiously, and the wounded
seated on the sand attending to their injuries. None had been killed
outright, but the majority of those who had been hit would not be
likely to take part in another attack, unless it was delayed for a
considerable time.
It seemed as if the white men gave but little attention to what the
Indians said during this council, for the savages were shouldered
aside with scant ceremony, and after a few moments all the Abenakis,
for none had been wounded, stalked gravely southward, where they
were soon lost to view amid the bushes.
"We're going to have trouble from those fellows, and it won't be
long coming," Mark said, as he leaped down from the platform, and
ran toward that portion of the stockade immediately in the rear of
the dwellings. "Keep a sharp watch over the Frenchmen, and let me
know what they are doing!"
Then he began putting up a platform at that point where he could
overlook the thicket, which last had been allowed to grow
dangerously near the buildings, and had hardly mounted for the
purpose of making a hasty survey, when a bullet imbedded itself in
one of the posts against which he leaned.
"What is the matter?" Susan cried.
"The Abenakis have sneaked around here, where they can shoot while
remaining under cover. Let mother come to load my muskets!"
The report of Mark's weapon followed the words, and from the thicket
two or three muskets were discharged, thus showing that the entire
force of Indians was lurking amid the underbrush.
Susan came running toward her cousin, carrying a weapon in each
hand, and the latter asked, sharply:
"Why have you left your post? The Abenakis won't kick up much of a
row until after dark."
"There is nothing to be done at the other side," Susan replied, as
she set about dragging two or three lobster-pots toward the
palisade. "The Frenchmen are paddling back to the schooner, not
leaving one behind, and Luke is watching to see when they leave the
vessel again."
Another bullet from the Thicket whistled uncomfortably near Mark's
head, and he understood that the most dangerous portion of the
attack was now to be met, for it was impossible to see a single foe.
The swaying of the branches or the tiny curls of smoke, were the
only tokens of an enemy, save when a weapon was discharged.
"Keep down under cover!" Mark cried, when Susan would have mounted
the collection of lobster-pots. "They are shooting close, and if you
should be disabled we would be in even worse trouble than we are
now."
"But you are showing them a target."
"Some one must be here to hold them back."
"Then I have the same right as you," and the courageous girl
clambered up on the shaky platform until it was possible for her to
look over the palisade.
It was a most dangerous position, and, fearing lest she should be
killed, Mark left his station to chop away the ends of the posts to
make loopholes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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