There was no answer—a good sign that everyone was supplied.
“The women and children gone?” said my father then.
No answer again.
“Load!” said my father.
Then there was a rustling noise, the clicking of ramrods, a dull thudding, more clicking, and silence.
“Now,” said my father, “no man to fire until I give the word. Trust to your cutlasses, and I daresay we can beat them off. Ready?”
There was a dead silence.
“I would light the candles,” said my father in a low firm voice, “but it would be helping the enemy, if enemy they are. Who’s that?”
“It is I, sir, Bigley,” said a familiar voice.
“I had forgotten you. What is it?”