“I would willingly have told you more, sir,” he added; “but I have some pride left in my misfortunes, and your commander’s attitude makes it impossible for me to mention that which was the chief part of our terms.”
By Captain Troubridge’s leave, Will, who had no fear, accompanied him alone, it being undesirable to draw attention; nor was he in any great danger so long as he was with the officer who had borne the flag of truce, or afterwards, but from a chance musket-shot fired by some rebel too insubordinate to obey his officers.
Even in the short while that Will was away the occupying party had been formed, headed by Captain Troubridge himself, who had divined from the brave officer’s manner that there was an affair of grave importance in the air. The garrison kept their word about doing nothing to draw our fire. Presently Will returned, and led the party to the appointed place, where they were sheltered from observation of the sentries by a little grove of orange trees, and could yet see the flagstaff. As soon as the white flag ran up, they dashed through one of the ornamental gardens which the Italians fashion so quaintly out of the sides of rocks, paying little heed, you may be sure, to shrubs or statues, but with their eyes bent on the breastwork at the top of the zigzag paths they had to climb, from which they as good as expected a sharp fusillade or a volley of boulders. But the officer had kept his word, and they gained the breastwork uninjured, finding its gate open. It was a very few yards from this to the fort, where likewise they found the gate open and no guards; but from which they could hear the sounds of an angry tumult and one or two shots. Drawing pistols, and gripping swords and cutlasses, they were led at a rush up the steep slippery stone incline from the gate into the interior of the fort; and there they came upon a mob of Jacobins of the lower class who were battering at a door and firing from time to time at a little window, fortunately high up, from which was waving a handkerchief. In an instant Captain Troubridge and Vassall and Will, who were leading our column, were slashing among them, driving straight for such as were armed with muskets or pistols.
The white flag, it will be remembered, was not in sign of surrender, but in sign that the fort had been abandoned; Captain Troubridge having refused to make any kind of terms beyond the announcement that for such a space of time he should not be firing in that direction; and the officer having hinted plainly that he should not be able to enforce the withdrawal of certain of his men.
In a very short space these men were all slain or had laid down their arms; and then the sailors commenced battering in the doors with a light brass gun which they took off its carriage and slung in cords—an expedient which had fortunately not occurred to the rebels, who, disarmed and under guard, watched the operations sullenly.
No sooner had they delivered a batter or two, and a third would have done the business, than they heard an English voice from within—a gruff voice, which called—
“Hi there! An English storming party?”
“Yes,” shouted a dozen voices.
“Heads, then! the key is coming out of the window;” and out came a great rusty key above a foot long, which looked as if it had been made for centuries; but the lock was too battered for the key to turn, and the cry went back—
“Stand clear while we stove the door in!”