He didn't say any more, for he was, like me, taken up with the movement
in the square--a lot of the mutineers running the two guns forward in
front of the gate, and then closing round them, so that we could not see
what was going on; but we knew well enough that they were charging them,
and there seemed nothing for it but to let them fire, unless by a bold
sally we could get out and spike them.
Just then Lieutenant Leigh looked at me, and I at him; when, touching my
cap in salute, I said, "Two good nails, sir, and a tap on each, would do
it."
"Yes, Smith," he said grimly; "but who is to drive those two nails
home?"
I didn't answer him for a minute, I should say, for I was thinking over
matters about life, and about Lizzy; and now that Harry Lant was gone,
it seemed to me that there might be a chance for me; but still duty was
duty, and if men could not in such a desperate time as this risk
something, what was the good of soldiers?
"I'll drive 'em home, sir," I says then quietly, "or they shall drive me
home!"
He looked at me for an instant, and then nodded.
"I'll get the men ready," he says; "it's our only chance, and with a
bold dash we may do it. I'll send to the armourer's chest for hammers
and spikes. I'll spike one, Smith, and you the other; but mind, if I
fail, help me, as I will you if you fail; and God help us! Keep a sharp
look-out till I come back."
He left the room, and I heard a little movement below, as of the men
getting ready for the sally; and all the while I stood watching the
crowd in front, which now began hurrahing and cheering; and there was a
motion which showed that the guns were being run in nearer, till they
stopped about fifty yards from the gate.
"What makes him so long?" I thought, trembling with excitement;
"another minute, perhaps, and the gate will be battered down, and that
mob rushing in."
Then I thought that we ought, all who escaped from the sortie, in case
of failure, to be ready to take to the rooms adjoining where I was,
which would be our last hope; and then I almost dropped my piece, my
mouth grew dry, and I seemed choked; for with a loud howl the crowd
opened out, and I saw a sight that made my blood run cold: those two
nine-pounders standing with a man by each breech, smoking linstock in
hand; while bound with their backs against the muzzles, and their white
faces towards us, were Captain Dyer and Harry Lant!
One spark--one touch of the linstock on the breech--and those two brave
fellows would be blown to atoms; and as I expected that every moment
such would be the case, my knees knocked together; but the next moment I
was down on those shaking knees, my piece made ready, and a good aim
taken, so that I could have dropped one of the gunners before he was
able to fire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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