The patriots rushed into the room, and were met by those who now were fighting for life. The contest was therefore one of desperation. Notwithstanding the patriots were in the majority, victory was by no means an easy thing to obtain.
The American’s torches had been dropped, and the conflict was waged by the light of the four lanterns which hung from the roof of the vault. Graham watched the conduct of his men with a critical eye, even while he was crossing blades with a furious “rebel.” The man was ignorant of the science, while Ben was a master of it; consequently, the tory gave his antagonist a severe wound in the arm. The smoke of a score of pistols wrapped the greater part of the scene in obscurity, but the groans of the wounded told that the contest had not been bloodless. One of the lamps had been extinguished by a chance shot; two others hung close together and gave just enough light for Ben to perceive that his men were being slowly but surely driven back.
With all his power the tory captain hurled a heavy horse-pistol which he held in his hand. The weapon struck the lanterns, and effectually extinguished their light. “Retreat, boys!” he shouted. “Retreat!” and he dashed away, followed by his men.
A huge oaken door was at the end of the room. Beyond this a passage led to a spring-house eight or ten yards from the barn. Along this passage, with swift steps, part of the tories flew; while some dozen or so, unable to shake off their assailants, still sought to make good their resistance.
The door of the spring-house was burst open, and Graham rushed out, followed by fifteen or sixteen of his fellows; without pausing to see if they were pursued, they made the best of their way to the woods, but fifty rods away.
Nat Ernshaw had dispersed the tories. At a loss of but three men killed, and several severely wounded, he had disposed of thirty desperate plotters against society and the liberties of his country.
CHAPTER VIII.
TIMOTHY TURNER AFTER HIS GAME.
Turner, anxious to get matters in train for securing the reward promised him by Captain Preston, did not suffer grass to grow under the feet of his horse while he journeyed to Charleston.
Although he was not one of those who are desirous of having a partner in their wicked deeds, yet this abduction was a business which he could not well accomplish without help. For this reason he was well satisfied to follow Preston’s advice, and search out Tom Blanchard.
Jim Fagan’s tavern, was a building well known to Timothy, who had, more than once, passed through its portals. Though frequented by a “pretty hard crowd,” the peace was but seldom broken in the building—Fagan, a tall, broad-shouldered Irishman, having made up his mind that he alone was privileged to do all the fighting which took place upon his premises. More than once had Turner passed the portals of Fagan’s dwelling, and he had, also, often noted the very Tom Blanchard whom Preston had recommended as an assistant. They were “drinking acquaintances,” for, though the traitor was not a man to indulge in drinking to excess, he nevertheless was fond of an occasional glass; “it sharpened his wits and braced his nerves amazingly,” he averred.