“They’re firing all the cottages,” cried another of the men, and now the growl that rose from our little force was furious and fierce, and full of menace against the enemy, who had done this to give them ample light as I suppose.
“Never mind, my lads, they have forgotten that it will make it easier for us,” said my father. “But hold your fire. It will be wanted here.”
We could see each other plainly now, and it became necessary to look out cautiously, for fear of offering ourselves as targets for the Frenchmen’s shots.
We could see that about a dozen well-armed men were in front, and another group of as many at the back of the house; but they were paying little heed to us for the moment, being engaged in watching their companions, who were running from cottage to cottage, firing them by thrusting torches under the thatch, and shouting and chattering to each other, as if these acts of wanton destruction were so much amusement in which they had delight.
Over and over again men made their pistols click, and were ready in their rage to send bullets flying amongst the wreckers of their homes; but my father uttered a low warning.
“Stand fast. Not till I say fire. Never mind your homes, my lads, we’ll soon raise better ones, and your wives and children are all safe. Wait.”
There was a low growl as if so many bull-dogs were being held back from their prey, and once more all was silent within.
Then there was a good deal of chattering and rushing, and the firing parties came back to where their companions were waiting, and we knew by the next order given that our time had come.