Short stories; United States -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
“What? Zounds!” howled the easily excited Frenchman. “Your Commandant
may think this good jesting, but I do not share his opinions. Tell him
to look to his defences. The flag of France shall once more wave above
them. We will attack at once, and for every poor fellow I lose in this
worthless assault, two of your survivors shall be strung up to die.
Give way, my boys!” he cried, addressing his oarsmen.
The boat sped off to the vessel. The drummer and his little party
returned within the fort, and prepared as best they could for what was
to follow.
Almost immediately after the arrival of the privateer Captain on board
his ship, three great pinnaces were lowered to the water and filled with
men. The glitter from naked cutlasses, inlaid pistols, and carefully
held muskets could easily be distinguished among them. This flotilla was
soon ready, and at once started for the fort landing. Luckily for the
trivial band of defenders the wind was increasing to such an extent that
Captain Rabentine did not consider it wise to attempt manœuvring his
ship in an unbuoyed and dangerous harbor. Therefore the flotilla was
without any aid from the guns of _La Belle Cerise_. Moreover, the waves
were commencing to run high, and the overloaded boats labored heavily.
It was necessary to keep them headed to the seas as much as possible,
and, in consequence, their progress towards the shore was rendered
extremely slow.
Rupert Haydon and his improvised garrison were all ready. The loaded
cannon were trained as nearly as could be upon the approaching boats.
The women soldiers had kissed their children a fond good-bye, and shut
them up in the bomb-proof magazine, away from danger of flying
projectiles.
When the flotilla had arrived within easy range, the young drummer
commenced discharging the battery as fast as he could pull the lanyards.
After him hurried the women, reloading the heated cannon. The roar of
the discharge came re-echoing back from the rocky cliffs repeated over
and over again, and the smoke-clouds temporarily hid the fort from view.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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