It was a dark night. The rain beat down in blinding torrents, and, exposed to the fury of the elements, our sentinels on the battlements had a down-hearted task. Firestone, having had a very heavy day, was fast asleep, but Granville and I determined to keep watch all night, visiting the men at their posts at frequent intervals to prevent a possible surprise.
We had discarded our defensive armour, and drawing our cloaks tightly around our bodies, we ascended the battlements for the third time that night.
At length we came to the lowest part of the walls, which here were not more than thirty feet above the level of the moat, the inner edge of which was not more than twenty feet from the base of the stonework.
The sentinel was at his post, and reported nothing amiss, but just as we were midway between his post and the next we heard a grating sound against the coping. It was barely audible above the hiss of the beating rain, but fortunately we stopped to discover the meaning of it.
Through the darkness loomed the top rungs of a scaling-ladder and the steel cap of a rebel pikeman.
Without a moment's hesitation Granville leant over the wall and gripped the intruder by the throat, calling out to me to push away the ladder.
Seizing a ramrod and giving the alarm, I put my whole might into the thrust.
The ladder was heavy with armed men, yet my strength prevailed, and I felt the mass of men and timber tremble as it slowly rose to a vertical position. Then, to the accompaniment of cries of terror, the ladder fell backwards, and, to my horror, I found that Granville and the pikeman were locked in an unyielding embrace, and ere I could prevent the catastrophe, Ralph was dragged through the embrasure and had disappeared.
There was an appalling crash of broken wood and falling steel, a heavy splash, and another outburst of shouts and cries.
Meanwhile the guard had arrived, and the rest of the garrison were soon under arms, yet we were loth to open fire for fear of hitting Granville, and also we dared not show a light.