But he got no farther. M. de Radisson was upon him with a cudgel like a flail on wheat.
"An you think it risk to go, I'll make it greater risk to stay! An you fear to obey, I'll make you fear more to disobey! An you shirk the pain of toeing the scratch, I'll make it a deal more painful to lag behind!"
"But at night—at night," roared Godefroy between blows.
"The night—knave," hissed out Radisson, "the night is lighter than morning with the north light. The night"—this with a last drive—"the night is same as day to man of spirit! 'Tis the sort of encouragement half the world needs to succeed," said M. Radisson, throwing down the cudgel.
And Godefroy, the skulker, was glad to run for the marsh. The rest of us waited no urgings, but were to our posts on the run.
I saw M. Radisson passing fife, piccolo, trumpet, and drum to the two tatterdemalion lads of our army.
"Now blow like fiends when I give the word," said he.
Across the courtyard, single file, marched the New Englanders from barracks to boat. La Chesnaye leading with drawn sword, the marquis following with pointed musket.
Forêt and La Chesnaye then mounted guard at the gate. The sailor of our company was heaping cannon-balls ready for use. Jack Battle scoured the fort for odd headgear. M. de Radisson was everywhere, seizing papers, burying ammunition, making fast loose stockades, putting extra rivets in hinges, and issuing quick orders that sent Jack Battle skipping to the word. Then Jack was set to planting double rows of sticks inside on a level with the wall. The purpose of these I could not guess till M. Radisson ordered hat, helmet, or cap clapped atop of each pole.
Oh, we were a formidable army, I warrant you, seen by any one mounting the drift to spy across our walls!