United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
When my stomach was fairly well filled, then did there come back to me
that courage under which I should never have lost hope.
There was no token that the storm might be losing its force; in fact it
seemed to me as if it increased momentarily, if indeed such could be the
case when the wind was raging, the rain falling and the thunder pealing
as I had never heard or seen it before.
It was almost as if we were in a ship at sea, so violently did old
Mary's cabin rock to and fro under that mighty blast, and there were
many times before the coming of morning when I really believed the hovel
would be rent asunder by the wind, and we deprived of this seemingly our
last opportunity to sell our lives at somewhat of a fair price.
When we had made ready our defense so far as was possible, and had
satisfied our hunger, Uncle 'Rasmus would have it that we lads should
lie down to sleep, trusting him to stand guard over us; but never one
among our company was willing to act upon the suggestion, for what
fellow could have slept with the elements raging and roaring without,
while he knew full well what must be before him when the sun rose again.
It was not even possible for us to seek repose; but all three paced to
and fro from one end of the small room to the other, as if by thus
remaining in motion we could the better hold in check our fears and our
forebodings.
Before we were aware that the new day was breaking, it was possible to
hear dimly as though far away in the distance, the roar of the American
cannon, drowned at times by the howling of the hurricane, and Pierre
cried as if those detonations were promises of safety for us:
"Could anything be working more to our advantage, lad? It must be that
our people understand somewhat of that which was done last night, for
they are sending their iron messengers into this village with more of
fury and determination than since the siege began."
I failed to understand how it could advantage us greatly even though our
people made a direct assault, as I said to Pierre; but the lad could not
well answer me, and I understood when he held his peace that he had
simply cried out in the hope of heartening us.
Then I listened intently for noises from the outside, and, unable to
distinguish between the roar of the cannon and the pealing of the
thunder, proposed that I be the first to go on watch in the loft above,
for I was burning to be able to see something other than the four walls
of that miserable hovel.
No one said me nay, and with two of the loaded muskets so that I might
be able to shoot twice in rapid succession if need arose, I clambered up
the ladder into the attic where Abel Hunt and Horry Sims had spent so
many, and such painful hours.
It was not yet sunrise, but the light of the coming day was sufficient
to enable me to see surrounding objects, and yet I could perceive no
change in the disposition of the British troops.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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