“Right you are, Martin!” cried one. “Keep him quiet. We won’t go home till morning.”
The major turned to the window. It was a moonlight night, and as I looked with him I saw the courtyard full of soldiers. Who was in command? The answer to that meant much to me.
This sight somewhat sobered the major.
“A mutiny!” he cried. “The soldiers have risen!”
“Go to bed,” said the junior ensign.
“Look out of window!” he cried.
They all staggered to the window. As the soldiers saw them, they raised a shout. I could not distinguish whether it was a greeting or a threat. They took it as the latter, and turned to the door.
“Stop!” I cried; “I shoot the first man who opens the door.”
In wonder they turned on me. I stood facing them, revolver in hand. They waited huddled together for an instant, then made a rush at me; I fired, but missed. I had a vision of a poised decanter; a second later, the missile caught me in the chest and hurled me back against the wall. As I fell I dropped my weapon, and they were upon me. I thought it was all over; but as they surged round, in the madness of drink and anger, I, looking through their ranks, saw the door open and a crowd of men rush in. Who was at their head? Thank God! it was the colonel, and his voice rose high above the tumult:
“Order, gentlemen, order!” Then to his men he added: