I was in an awful funk, though not for myself, I think, but more because of Sally. When one isn't in a funk for oneself it is easier to keep one's head. I don't think that Miller or myself cared a scrap what happened to us, so long as we could keep Sally safe. The Scotchman told us to bring any heavy things we could find to block up the door at the back, and then ran off and brought some rifles and bandoliers.
We bolted the door and piled everything we could find against it, and then ran round, barring the shutters. We didn't need any lamp, because the red glare streamed through the cracks and lighted up the whole place. The old woman had disappeared. Then we picked up the rifles and bandoliers, and he led us to the ladder, Sally crying out and lowering it. We all swarmed up and drew it after us.
The room was a small square place, with stone walls and narrow openings—you could hardly call them windows—in each wall. They were closed with iron shutters, and the one looking over the front was open, and the whole place was lighted up. The Scotchman and I looked out, and it was a most awesome sight.
Down below, about twenty yards from the foot of the house, was the wall and the big gateway, and behind it were the Englishman's men, stooping down to load and then popping up and firing. They seemed to be standing on some kind of platform or ledge, and were not taking the trouble to aim.
Out beyond there were flames pouring up from half a dozen huts, and we could hardly hear their noise because of the fearful shouts and yells from a dense crowd of people in between us and them.
They must have seen our faces in the light of the fires, for they yelled more loudly than ever, and we could see them bending down and then throwing stones at us. Stones began clattering against the outside wall all round us, and one came flying into the room, and I heard Sally sob with fright. We drew in our heads and closed the shutter, but before I drew in mine I am certain that I saw one of the Chinamen inside the wall point his rifle at us and fire. The room was almost dark now, except for one streak of light which came through a gap at one edge of the shutter, and just made light enough for us to see each other. Mr. Hobbs was lying full length on the floor near a wall, and Sally was lying down too, with her head on his chest, and moaning. I did wish she would leave off, because it made us all so much more frightened.
Directly we had closed the shutter, stones began clattering against it—and, I'm certain, some bullets too—and we heard a rush, and the mob charged the big gateway.
We could still hear the ships firing. "My God, I wish they'd come!" I heard Miller mutter; and that was what I had been praying all the time.
The noise at the back of the garden seemed to have stopped; but the firing from the wall was easing down too, and the Scotchman groaned out, "They're going to leave us;" and Sally, who seemed almost "off her head", kept on moaning, "Why doesn't Captain Evans come?"
I felt that I should go mad in a minute if I didn't do something. Miller must have thought the same. "It's no use sitting 'ere to get killed, sir. Can't we do something? Can't we fire at them? We've got three rifles." But the Scotchman wouldn't let us open the shutter.