It was about 8 P.M., and dinner being over, I was smoking my pipe in the divan, conversing with my wife and Lieutenant Baker upon the situation of affairs, when a sudden bright glare attracted my attention.
An officer immediately reported that the abandoned quarters were in a blaze of fire!
I was of course ready in an instant, and armed, and accompanied by my wife and Mr. Baker, I really enjoyed the beauty of the scene in that moment of anxiety.
Without the slightest noise, or even an audible whisper, the troops were all in position, kneeling on the ground in open order around the fort and the divan, keeping the most vigilant watch for the appearance of an enemy. The flames from the camp rose about seventy feet high. There was not a breath of air; thus the fire danced and leapt up to its extreme height, and illumined the neighbourhood for a great distance.
Not an enemy was to be seen. The soldiers were like statues, and there was no sound except the roaring of flames.
Suddenly loud yells broke out from a distance of about 200 yards from the farthest side of the fort, as though from a considerable body of men. Not a soldier stirred or spoke.
I had cleared the grass around the fort and station, therefore it was impossible to approach us unobserved.
The natives must have crept up stealthily, and fired the abandoned camp in the expectation that the troops would have rushed down to extinguish the flames, and thus the fort and the divan would have been at the mercy of an attack from the dark side.
I immediately sent a strong patrol around the station, but not a soul was visible. The attempt had failed.
Once more the luggage, with beds, boxes, &c., was transported from the divan to the fort.