Outside I could hear the quick, sharp commands of the captains and the tramp of the garrison preparing for action. In less than ten minutes I was at a loophole in the wall of the fort with a rifle, waiting the order to fire. Not far from me, similarly armed, was Duncan Hale. I noticed a look of triumphant glee upon his face, as he said to a soldier beside him-- 'Now we'll pay them in their own coin for trying to stir up the Indians: then I've a score against these rebels on another account. They'd have hanged me once.' 'Hanged you? Where?' 'Just out of Boston--two days after the war began. They'd a rope round my neck.' The whole scene came back upon me vividly. 'What had you done?' the soldier asked. 'Done! I'd exposed some of their smuggling and treasonable actions. That was all.' At that moment the movements of some on the schooners attracted my attention. 'They are getting their boats in shape,' I heard Colonel Francklin, who was looking through a glass, say to Lieutenant-Governor Hughs, who stood beside him, 'and appear to be preparing to come ashore.' There was a brief consultation among the officers. Then the Major in command said: 'Every man ready to fire at them as they come over the sides.' From that time onward moments seemed hours. Finally the painful strain was broken by the single word-- 'Fire!' There was a thunder of cannon and a sharp crash of musketry. When the smoke blew to one side, we could see the boats pulling back to the vessels. Looking through his glass, Colonel Francklin reported that a number of shots had taken effect. As we reloaded the sound of quick-working anchor windlasses came in over the water and up the hill slope. The rebels who had been playing havoc on the river for so long had this time met a reception quite different from that which they had planned. The fort, well hidden by trees, had been built and garrisoned since their last trip, so their surprise could not have been much more complete. When the ebb began to make they hoisted sail and drew off down the bay. On looking seaward at noon, nothing could be seen but the line of the Nova Scotia coast, pencilled low and irregular on the base of the sky. It is probably not to be wondered at that, during the afternoon, we were somewhat high-spirited. All through the war the St. John settlers had been harassed, plundered, imprisoned or shot, by cruel and unscrupulous marauders from New England, who had never before been resisted, much less repulsed. 'Things are moving finely,' I heard Mr. Simonds tell Duncan Hale that evening. 'With the Indians quiet, and the pirates scared out, we can go on with our trade as usual. Till the war began we did well here. Since that we have had dreadful times--no business possible--but now I'm in hopes we can go on with the fishing, the lime-burning, and "masting" as usual.' 'Masting, Mr. Simonds,' I said. 'What is masting?'