In truth help was urgently needed at the little fort; but had its defenders been compelled to wait for that which the steamer would afford, every one would have been either butchered or taken off into a terrible captivity.
Captain Smithers when he looked round had seen the enemy coming on in such strength; and with a demonstration so full of clever plan, backed up by determination, that he could not help feeling that the critical moment had come, and that they must either surrender or meet death like men.
If he surrendered, the probabilities were that they would all be massacred, save the women; and as he thought of them he raised his eyes, and found those of Private Gray fixed upon him, as if reading his very soul.
“You know what I was thinking, Gray,” he said, resentfully.
“Yes, sir,” said Gray, sharply; “you were debating within yourself whether you should strike the Union Jack in token of surrender.”
“I was,” said Captain Smithers, angry with himself at being as it were obliged to speak as he did to this simple private of his regiment. “And you advise it?”
“Advise it, sir? For heaven’s sake—for the sake of the ladies whom we have to defend, let us fight till the last gasp, and then send a few shots into the magazine. Better death than the mercy of a set of cut-throat pirates.”
Captain Smithers was silent for a few moments, and then he said quietly,—
“I should not have surrendered, Gray. You are quite right.” He hesitated for a moment or two, and then said hoarsely,—
“Gray, we hate each other.”