The thought occurred to Roy that his own garrison was composed of extremely raw material, but he said nothing, and Ben went grumbling on:
“I don’t say but what they could be made into decent soldiers in time; but they don’t seem to have anybody much over them.”
Just then a couple of shots were fired by the enemy, one of which struck the tower with a tremendous crash, sending splinters of stone flying, and a tiny cloud of dust rose slowly. The other shot went whizzing overhead.
“I wouldn’t get looking over the edge, Master Roy, sir,” whispered Ben. “Some of those chips of stone might give you an ugly scratch. But that just shows what I say’s right. They haven’t got the right man there or he’d soon change things. You see they’ve brought up their guns with orders to batter down our drawbridge and smash the portcullis, thinking they’ll make you surrender. Don’t seem to come into their thick heads that if they did manage to smash the bridge, they’d be no nearer to us than before, because we should soon pile up a good breastwork, and pitch every man back into the moat who swam across. But, as I was going to say, they’ve got their orders to batter down the bridge, and they keep at it. We’ve been hit up here, but only by accident; they never fired straight at us. Now, if you were in command out there, sir, you’d do something different.”
“I should fire straight up here, Ben, and try to silence these guns.”
“Of course you would, sir; just as you’re going to silence theirs.”
“And the sooner the better, Ben. They’re nearly ready again.”
“Are they, sir? I can’t see. My eyes are not so young as yours. Well, we’re quite ready; and if you orders, we’re going to give it ’em in earnest.”
“Go on, then,” said Roy, “and see if you can’t stop their firing.”
Ben smiled grimly, and bent down to regulate the aim he took, while the same was done with the other gun. The result was that the corporal’s shot went right through the embrasure of the piece to the left, while Ben’s went over.