THE SIEGE OF THE HOUSE.
They had started from the woods the moment the explosion occurred, and they would have arrived earlier but for the fresh snow that lay on the frozen crust.
“Stand firm!” cried Menzies. “Give them a raking volley at close quarters.”
“And be ready to retire in good order,” I shouted. “We can’t afford to lose a man.”
With that the living tide was upon us. Screeching and veiling like demons, the horde of savages struck the weakened northeast angle of the fort. There was no checking them, though our muskets poured a leaden rain. Some entered by the breach, dashing over the debris of wood and stone; others clambered to the top of the palisades and dropped down inside.
At the first we had to retire a little, so overwhelming was the rush. Then we made a brief stand and tried to stem the torrent. Bang, bang, bang! bullets flew thickly, from both sides and hissing tomahawks fell among us. I saw two men drop near me, and heard cries of agony mingling with the infernal din. We held our ground until the foremost of the savages were at arm’s length, striking and hacking at us through the snow and powder smoke. Two or three score were already within the fort, and when a section of the stockade fell with a crash—borne down by sheer weight—I believed for a terrible moment that all was lost.
“Back, back!” I cried hoarsely. “Back for your lives, men! We can’t do anything more here!”
“Ay, the inclosure is taken!” shouted Captain Rudstone. “Back to the house! Keep your faces to the foe, and make every shot tell!”
Menzies called out a similar order, seeing that any delay would imperil our last chance, and those of us who were left slowly began the retreat. We drew off into the narrow passage, with high banks of snow on either side, that led to the factor’s house. The yelling redskins pressed after us, and for several moments, by a cool and steady fire, we prevented them from coming to close quarters again.
We kept firing and loading while we moved backward, and as it was next to impossible to miss, the Indians seemed disheartened by the heavy damage we inflicted on them. For ourselves, we lost three men in a brief time, and we would have lost more but for the shelter of the outbuildings, round some of which the path turned.
When we were halfway to the house, and had passed the quarters, we were joined by the sentries from the southwest tower. But now the savages plucked up courage, and made a rush that brought them within six yards of us. We stood at bay, and delivered a straggling fire. The Indians returned it as they pushed on doggedly. A voyageur fell at my side, and another dropped in front of me. There was a sudden cry that the priest was shot, and glancing to the right, I saw Father Cleary reel down in the snow and lie motionless.
“We must run for it!” shouted Captain Rudstone. “Make a dash for the house, men!”
“For God’s sake, no!” I yelled hoarsely. “If we turn now we will be overtaken and butchered! Hold firm!”
Just then, when the situation was most critical, an unexpected thing gave us the opportunity we so sorely needed. In the retreat we had dragged one of the howitzers along with us, and we had forgotten until now that it was loaded. In a trice we put it in position and touched it off.
Crash! The heavy charge ploughed into the huddled mass of savages. To judge from the agonized shrieks that followed the loss of life must have been terrible, but we could see nothing for the dense cloud of smoke that hung between us.
“To the house!” cried Menzies.
“Quick—for your lives!” I shouted.
With that we turned our backs and made off, dashing along in some disorder and leaving the howitzer behind. We half expected to be overtaken, but by the time the Indians had recovered from their check and pushed on, the house was before us.
We staggered inside by twos and threes, and closed and barred the massive door. A respite for rest and breathing was badly needed, but we did not dare to take it. Half of our men went to the front loopholes, and as fast as they could load and fire they picked off the yelling wretches who were now swarming thickly before the house. In their frenzied rage they exposed themselves recklessly, sending volley after volley of lead against the stout beams and even hurling tomahawks.
I took no part in this scrimmage myself. With Menzies and several others I went over the lower floor of the house, and made sure that all was in right condition for a protracted siege. We placed lighted candles in the hall, and opened the doors communicating with it, so that some light could shine into the various rooms.
Meanwhile the firing had dwindled and ceased, and when we returned to the front we found that the Indians had abandoned the attack and melted away; none were in sight from the loopholes, but we could hear them making a great clamor in the direction of the trading house and other outbuildings.
This relief gave us a chance to consult regarding our future plans, and to count up our little force. Alas! but sixteen of us had entered the house. That was our whole number; the rest of the forty odd had perished during the fighting of the past two days; and not the least mourned among that night’s casualties was brave Father Cleary. Fortunately, none of us were disabled, though Christopher Burley had been grazed by a bullet, and Captain Rudstone and several others had been gashed slightly by tomahawks. The wounded transferred from the hospital, who were in a small room at the rear, were now reduced to five; two had died that morning, as Dr. Knapp predicted.
But there was no time for useless grief or idleness. We had no sooner served out rations, loaded all the guns and posted the men on the four sides of the house than the Indians showed a determination to crown their triumph by taking our stronghold. At first they kept to the shelter of the surrounding outbuildings, and blazed steadily away at the house, on the chance of sending a bullet through the loopholes or the chinks of the logs. Twice a little squad of savages rushed forward carrying a beam, with which they hoped to batter down the door. But we poured a hot fire into them—it was light enough outside for us to take aim—and each time they wavered and fell back, leaving the snow dotted with dead bodies.
After that came a lull, except for intermittent shots, and Captain Rudstone predicted that an unpleasant surprise was being prepared for us by the Northwest men whom we believed to be among the redskins.
“It may be all that,” I answered him stoutly, “but the house is not to be taken.”
A little later I took advantage of the inaction to go upstairs, whither Menzies had already preceded me. He was with his wife and Miss Hatherton in a back room with one small window, and that protected by a heavy shutter.
I drew Flora aside and explained to her, as hopefully as possible, the plan by which we expected ultimately to escape to Fort York. What else I said to her, or what sweet and thrilling words she whispered into my ear, I do not purpose to set down here; but when I returned to the lower floor my heart was throbbing with happiness, and I felt strengthened and braced to meet whatever fate might hold in store. I was strangely confident at the time that we should outwit our bloodthirsty foes.
Menzies followed me below, and almost at once the Indians renewed the attack, mainly on the front of the house and on the north side. They exposed themselves on the verge of the outbuildings, blazing away steadily, and drawing a constant return fire from our men. At the end of a quarter of an hour they were still wasting ammunition. They must have suffered heavily, and yet not one of their bullets had done us any harm. I wandered from room to room, taking an occasional shot, and finally I stopped in the hall, where Captain Rudstone and three others were posted at the loopholes right and left of the door.
“The Indians will run out of powder presently; if they keep up at this rate,” said I. “They can’t have much of a leader.”
“Too clever a one for us,” the captain answered, as he loaded his musket. “This is only a ruse, a diversion, Carew. There is something to follow.”
“I hope it will come soon,” I replied. “Then the savages will likely draw off and give us a chance to put a force of men to work at the tunnel. We should finish it by noon to-morrow, and escape through it at nightfall. If the snow keeps up—as it gives promise of doing—our tracks will be covered before we have gone a mile.”
“I like the plan,” said old Carteret, the voyageur. “It sounds well, and it’s possible to be carried out under certain conditions. But if you’ll not mind my saying—”
He paused an instant to aim and fire.
“One redskin the less,” he added, peering out the loophole; “he sprang three feet in the air when I plugged him. As for your plan, Mr. Carew, I think the odds are about evenly divided. There’s the chance that the varmints will suspect something of the sort, and watch the stockade on all sides.”
“Likely enough,” assented Captain Rudstone; “but it’s not to that quarter I look for the danger. The Indians can take the house by assault in an hour if they choose to sacrifice a lot of lives.”
“It would cost fifty or a hundred,” said I. “They won’t pay such a price.”
“There is no telling how far they will go,” the captain answered gravely, “with Northwest Company men to egg them on.”
As he spoke there was a sudden and noisy alarm from the room on the right of the hall, which commanded the south side of the house. Half a dozen muskets cracked in rapid succession, the reports blending with a din of voices. Then Menzies yelled hoarsely: “This way, men! Come, for God’s sake! Quick, or we are lost!”
The summons was promptly responded to. I was the first to dash into the room, followed by Rudstone and Carteret. I put my eyes to a vacant loophole and what I saw fairly froze the blood in my veins.