Ronald Morton; or, the Fire Ships: A Story of the Last Naval War

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The effects of the volley did not appear to have much availed the defenders of the castle, for, almost before it had ceased, the thundering blows on the gate were renewed with greater violence than before, and the crashing noise which followed showed that it was yielding to them. There were, as Bertha well knew, two small gates, one within the other. The first had, as she suspected, given way to the attack the assailants had first made, the crushing sound of which had awakened her as it had Hilda. The second gate was the one against which they were now directing their efforts. Lawrence had not been aware of this, and he fancied that it was the outer gate alone which had to be defended. On reaching the first storey of the tower, and on looking from the window which commanded the space before this outer gate, he saw a large group of armed men, apparently prepared for attacking it.

“There are the enemy! Have no parley with them! Fire, boys!” he exclaimed, setting the example by discharging his musket. The rest fired likewise, and apparently several of the enemy were hit; but, instead of taking to flight, they fired in return, and several of the Lunnasting party might have been hit had they not speedily retired from the window. In the chamber below, however, there were several loopholes, and in these they forthwith assembled, and commenced firing away as before. Hilda had not used her musket; but she in no way felt inclined to shrink from the contest, and her presence wonderfully animated the rest. They soon, however, discovered that the first of their defences had been taken, and that they were not in the slightest degree impeding the progress of the attacking party, who, in spite of the repeated volleys with which their comrades were saluted, continued to batter away at the door with an evident determination to succeed. At the same time the door was a very solid one, and resisted all their efforts. Several of those outside had been wounded. One or two had been seen to fall. This encouraged Lawrence and his followers.

“Could you not make a sally and drive them off?” at length exclaimed Hilda, as the blows on the door became louder and more reiterated. “If you rushed out suddenly they would not know how many men were following, and might take to flight.”

“They know well enough how many men are inside these walls, or they would not have dared to attack us, my lady,” observed Davie Cheyne. “With your permission, my lady, we’ll fight on till the powder is gone, with the thick stone between us, but there is no use in venturing our lives against six times our number without some such aid.”

The firing on both sides now became very warm till two of the servants were hit, and a bullet passed through the sleeve of Lawrence’s coat. On discovering this Hilda despatched one of the girls for bandages, while she endeavoured to staunch the blood of the man who was most hurt with her handkerchief.

“Thank ye, ma’am—thank ye, my lady,” said the poor fellow, looking up at her with an expression of gratitude in his countenance; “it will not be much harm done, and if ye will let me I’ll be at them again.”

The girl was absent nearly a minute, and, as she appeared, in a voice of terror she exclaimed, “the gate is giving way, and they will be into the castle in a moment!”

The courage of Hilda and her two attendants formed a great contrast to the behaviour of the women who had taken refuge with Bertha. The more constant the firing the louder they shrieked; and, as the sound of the blows on the gate reached them they clung to her gown, entreating her to tell them what to do. At last there came a crash louder than any that had preceded it, followed immediately by shouts and cries, and the report of fire-arms, evidently inside the castle, and the cries and shrieks increased, and then there was the heavy tramp of men’s feet, some hurrying along the passages, others ascending the stairs.

“Oh, they are coming here—they are coming here!” cried one of the servant girls. “We shall all be murdered, and the castle will be burnt. Oh, Mistress Bertha, where shall we run to?—where shall we hide?”

“Close the doors, girls,” said Bertha, calmly. “Perhaps they will not come here.”