The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I do not think we need fear them,” said Lieutenant Belt. “We must watch narrowly where they are placed, and shoot down the people from the windows immediately they attempt to mount.”

The blacks, as before, carried off their dead and wounded, and it was difficult to ascertain how much they had suffered. Already a good many had retreated, but others were seen coming up with more faggots, which they attempted to throw amid the already burning mass. By this time the whole house was surrounded by a hedge of flames, and Mr Twigg, who had exerted himself as much as any one, made his way up to the lieutenant, and advised that they should retreat into the house while the enemy were unable to follow them.

“Let us make another attempt to drive them off,” was the answer. “They are afraid themselves of the flames they have kindled, and will not venture through them. Now, my lads, give them one more volley,” he shouted, “and if I mistake not they will turn tail.”

As he shouted “Fire!” at the top of his voice, the order was heard by the blacks, and away they went scampering down the hill, hoping to avoid the bullets which they expected would follow.

The greater number got under cover, or escaped by falling flat on their faces. Ignorant savages as they were, they were unable to take advantage of the success their bravery and hardihood had accomplished. On this the ultimate safety of the hard-pressed garrison depended. Had they pressed on through the opening which the fire had produced, they might have forced their way, not only within the stockade, but into the house itself. Hopes were entertained that the enemy had had fighting enough for the night, and intended to allow the fire to do its work before making another assault. Fresh efforts were made by the garrison to extinguish the fire, which had got hold of the stockades. They had been composed chiefly of dry timber, which easily ignited and burned furiously. At length the lieutenant saw that all attempts to save them would be futile, and that the utmost that could be done would be to prevent the doors and windows of the house itself from catching fire. This, by constant watchfulness and great exertion, was done; and he then, complying with Mr Twigg’s earnest appeals, summoned the people to come within the house, when the door was barricaded, and they prepared to hold out, in what they had from the first called their citadel, till the moment for the intended sortie had arrived.

It was a night of terror to many and anxiety to all. Their ammunition was running terribly short; but a few rounds only remained, and there was barely food sufficient to afford a breakfast for the weary garrison. The water also was almost exhausted.

Daylight came, and the lieutenant went himself to the roof of the house to look out, but could see no friendly band coming to their relief. The young ladies’ dresses were flying in the morning breeze, sadly rent by the bullets which had passed through them. The lieutenant then turned his glance into the valley, where he saw the black besiegers still apparently as numerous as ever. The hedge of fire had now burned itself out; large gaps existed in the stockades, but portions still remained standing, and would afford some protection to his men in case a sortie had to be made. His chief object was to examine the ground which they would have to traverse, should Mr Pemberton carry out his intention of coming to their relief. He at last descended, and went round to each of the windows, where he had posted a sentry to keep a look-out on the movements of the rebels; then, feeling that he had done his duty, he threw himself down on a cane sofa, to snatch for a short time the rest he so much required.

The other inmates of the house, who had been kept awake all the night, were dozing in their chairs or on their sofas; the men not on guard were lying down on the ground; the children were in their cribs, watched over by Martha. She had reserved some food for them, and they were in that respect better off than any one else. The young ladies and Mrs Twigg had positively refused to take more than their share. They were happily also forgetting their troubles in sleep.

Weary as he was, Mr Ferris felt the dangerous position in which they were placed too much to rest, and continued going from room to room, looking out at each window, and occasionally mounting to the roof. He was standing there, when he saw a single black advancing up the hill from among the savages. He was unarmed, and carried in his hand a pole with a large white flag waving from it. He evidently understood the use of a flag of truce, and trusted to its being respected. He advanced till he got within hearing distance of the house. He was a tall, strongly built man, his features unusually hideous even for a negro. On seeing Mr Ferris, he shouted at the top of his voice, “Will you gib in? You see what we can do. We ask you to make friends.”

“We shall be ready to do so on condition that you lay down your arms and return to your duty,” answered Mr Ferris.