“But shall we have to give up to them?” I said.
“In our helpless state I am afraid so, unless the General and Preston hold that we are Englishmen still. Oh, if I could only get to their side, and join in the council!”
“Hannibal carry capen,” said the great black, who in strict obedience to his orders was at my back.
“Can you?” cried my father, eagerly.
Hannibal smiled and took my father up as easily as if he had been a child, starting to carry him just as Morgan came up.
“Stop!” said my father; “let me go in a more dignified way if I can. Here, Morgan, pick up one of these fire-locks. Hannibal, my man, set me down again;” and, after giving his orders, Morgan and the black each took hold of one end of the firelock, holding it across him, and my father sat upon it, supporting himself by passing his arms through those of his bearers, and in this fashion he reached the group at the gap in the fence. Here an earnest conversation was going on, while the Spaniards were still in full pursuit of the Indians, chasing them right into the forest, and their shots growing more and more distant.
“Ah,” cried the General, as my father reached the group, “I am glad you have come, Bruton. I feel bound in our present strait to take the opinion of all. We are terribly shaken in our position; there are many wounded, and the question we debate is, whether now we surrender quietly to the Spaniards, or make one more bold stand.”
“What does Colonel Preston say?” said my father, quietly.
“Fight, sir,” cried the colonel, fiercely, “as long as we can fire shot or lift an arm; but the majority are for giving up. What does Captain Bruton say?”
My father was so weak that he could not stand alone, but his eyes were bright still, and he drew back his head as he looked round.