Devon Boys Part 64

"Le Capitaine Dooncane," cried a sharp fierce voice.

"Well?" said my father. "I am Captain Duncan."

"Open this door," said the same voice, speaking in French.

"What if I refuse?" said my father in the same tongue.

"If you refuse it will be broken down--directly."

"Is it the war?" said my father mockingly.

"It is the war," was the reply. "Open, and no harm will be done to you.

Resist, and there will be no quarter. Is it surrender?"

"Monsieur forgets that he is talking to an English officer," said my father. "Stand back, sir; we are well-armed and prepared."

There was a low murmur of voices outside, and my father exclaimed:

"Sep, Bigley, upstairs with you and six men. Two of you to each window, and beat down with your cutla.s.ses all who try to board. Well keep the doors here. Now, my lads, tables and chairs against the doors. You'll find the wickets handy. I thought so; they're at the back door already."

He darted to the back room, helped place a table against the door, mounted upon it, and as the blows of a crowbar were heard, he placed a pistol to the little wicket in the panel high up, and fired a shot to alarm the attacking party.

The blows of the crowbar ceased, and a low suppressed yell from many voices broke out from all round the little stone-built place.

"That has quieted them for the moment," said my father; and, applying his eye to an aperture made for the purpose, he inspected the attacking force.

"French marines," he said quietly. "Well, my lads, they're outside and we are in. If they leave us alone we will not injure them, if they attack they must take the consequences. It is war time; they have landed, and we are fighting for our homes and all belonging to us. Will you fight?"

There was a low dull growl at this, uttered it seemed by every man present, and as my father's words had been distinctly heard upstairs, the men with Bigley and me joined in.

"That's good," said my father. "I thought so. Now once more trust to your strong aims and cutla.s.ses. A couple of shots and then swords.

They don't want loading again. If they break in we must retreat upstairs. If they prove too much for us and force their way up, we must hold out as long as we can, and then retreat by the north window and back up the west side of the valley among the big stones; but no retreat till I give the word. Now, my lads, do you want anything to make you fight?"

"Only the orders, captain," said the foreman, "or the French beggars to come on."

"All in good time. What are they doing?" said my father. "One shot can't have scared them off. Ah, the cowards! I expected as much."

For just then a dull light shone in through the window, and made every bar clear. The dull light became brighter, and the Frenchmen set up a cheer.

"They've fired the big shed roof, sir," said the foreman.

"Father," I cried down the stairs, "they have fired Sanders's cottage."

"Curse 'em," growled the foreman. "I'll make pork crackling of somebody's skin for that."

"Now they've gone on to the next cottage," cried Bigley.

"They're firing all the cottages," cried another of the men, and now the growl that rose from our little force was furious and fierce, and full of menace against the enemy, who had done this to give them ample light as I suppose.

"Never mind, my lads, they have forgotten that it will make it easier for us," said my father. "But hold your fire. It will be wanted here."

We could see each other plainly now, and it became necessary to look out cautiously, for fear of offering ourselves as targets for the Frenchmen's shots.

We could see that about a dozen well-armed men were in front, and another group of as many at the back of the house; but they were paying little heed to us for the moment, being engaged in watching their companions, who were running from cottage to cottage, firing them by thrusting torches under the thatch, and shouting and chattering to each other, as if these acts of wanton destruction were so much amus.e.m.e.nt in which they had delight.

Over and over again men made their pistols click, and were ready in their rage to send bullets flying amongst the wreckers of their homes; but my father uttered a low warning.

"Stand fast. Not till I say _fire_. Never mind your homes, my lads, we'll soon raise better ones, and your wives and children are all safe.

Wait."

There was a low growl as if so many bull-dogs were being held back from their prey, and once more all was silent within.

Then there was a good deal of chattering and rus.h.i.+ng, and the firing parties came back to where their companions were waiting, and we knew by the next order given that our time had come.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

DESPERATE TIMES.

In my heat and excitement I wondered that my father did not order his little company of men to begin firing at a time when every shot would tell, for there was a feeling of rage within me, roused by the wanton destruction of the cottages and every portion of the works that would burn; but I had not learned all my lessons then, and how a just and brave man, whether soldier or sailor, shrinks from destroying life until absolutely obliged.

My father came upstairs for a minute about the time when I was thinking this the most, and I could see a peculiarly hard stern look in his eyes as the fire flashed through the window upon his face.

"Mind: no firing," he said, "until they attack, and I give the word."

I felt afterwards how right he was, but then it seemed almost cowardly.

I soon altered my opinion, for all at once the French leader came up to the door and struck it with the hilt of his sword, as he exclaimed in French:

"Now, Captain Duncan, surrender!"

No reply was given.

"Open this door and pa.s.s out the whole of the silver bars you have there," was the next command, and this time my father answered:

"Come and take them if you can--_si vous osez_," he added in French.

There was no more delay. A couple of men were ordered to the front with iron bars, and they began to batter the door heavily, but without any further effect than to chip off splinters and make dints.

The men were called off, the rest standing ready to fire at anyone who should show a face at the windows, but we gave them no opportunity, for my father whispered:

"They are sixty. We are only just over a dozen. Wait, men, wait."

"What are they doing, Big?" I whispered to my companion, for he was in a better post for observations than myself.

"I can't quite see," he whispered back. "They've got a bag of something, and they're bringing it to the door."

I looked out quickly.