“Well, sir, that one as you’re going to start as soon as it’s getting dark. Ground’s pretty soft for working, and we’ve got plenty of timber. I s’pose you’ll reg’larly fill up Jenks’s gate-way, and leave quite a deep ditch behind it on our side.”
“Why not on their side, Ben?” said Roy, sharply.
“Why, of course, sir; I seemed to fancy this side; but t’other’s better, and all the earth we throw out of the ditch goes on the front and top in a slope, eh?”
“Yes, of course; and turns the balls upward.”
“Not many on ’em will go up, sir. Ground’ll be too soft. They’ll just plump in there and stop; and so much the better for Royland Towers.”
As they watched attentively, they found that the horses were halted, and the guns drawn right in front of the castle gate, but at the distance of quite half a mile. There the men seemed to be bivouacking; and the smoke of several fires rose slowly in the air.
No more time was lost: the gunners were summoned, ropes got ready, some heavy beams were hoisted up to the platform of the gate tower, and, under the guidance of Ben and the corporal, a rough kind of crane was fitted up; and after the guns had been dismounted, the carriages were hoisted and placed in position behind the embrasures.
The heavier task was to come; but Ben and the three troopers seemed to master every difficulty, carefully securing the guns with ingenious knots of the ropes; and at last the word was given to hoist.
The hemp stretched and strained, and as the first gun rose a little from the ground, it seemed to Roy as if the strands must give way, and he ordered every one to stand well aside. Ben smiled.
“No fear of that, sir,” he whispered. “Those are the toughest of hemp, those ropes, and as the length gets shorter, the strain grows less. Steady, my lads! a little at a time.”