He didn’t say any more, for he was, like me, taken up with the movement in the square—a lot of the mutineers running the two guns forward in front of the gate, and then closing round them, so that we could not see what was going on; but we knew well enough that they were charging them, and there seemed nothing for it but to let them fire, unless by a bold sally we could get out and spike them.
Just then Lieutenant Leigh looked at me, and I at him; when, touching my cap in salute, I said, “Two good nails, sir, and a tap on each, would do it.”
“Yes, Smith,” he said grimly; “but who is to drive those two nails home?”
I didn’t answer him for a minute, I should say, for I was thinking over matters about life, and about Lizzy; and now that Harry Lant was gone, it seemed to me that there might be a chance for me; but still duty was duty, and if men could not in such a desperate time as this risk something, what was the good of soldiers?
“I’ll drive ’em home, sir,” I says then quietly, “or they shall drive me home!”
He looked at me for an instant, and then nodded.
“I’ll get the men ready,” he says; “it’s our only chance, and with a bold dash we may do it. I’ll send to the armourer’s chest for hammers and spikes. I’ll spike one, Smith, and you the other; but mind, if I fail, help me, as I will you if you fail; and God help us! Keep a sharp look-out till I come back.”
He left the room, and I heard a little movement below, as of the men getting ready for the sally; and all the while I stood watching the crowd in front, which now began hurrahing and cheering; and there was a motion which showed that the guns were being run in nearer, till they stopped about fifty yards from the gate.
“What makes him so long?” I thought, trembling with excitement; “another minute, perhaps, and the gate will be battered down, and that mob rushing in.”
Then I thought that we ought, all who escaped from the sortie, in case of failure, to be ready to take to the rooms adjoining where I was, which would be our last hope; and then I almost dropped my piece, my mouth grew dry, and I seemed choked; for with a loud howl the crowd opened out, and I saw a sight that made my blood run cold: those two nine-pounders standing with a man by each breech, smoking linstock in hand; while bound with their backs against the muzzles, and their white faces towards us, were Captain Dyer and Harry Lant!