“I shall never turn my back upon them,” he exclaimed. “A judge is answerable only to God. I have done my duty by my conscience.”
Argument was of no avail. Lieutenant Morrison was in a quandary.
A sudden shout of savage triumph broke from the rebels outside the compound. “Tonga-fiti, tonga-fiti,” brought the argument to an abrupt end. The judge’s house was on fire. While the Americans had been attempting to persuade the judge to leave, a small party of rebels had stolen into the house from the rear. That end of the house was now ablaze.
The judge and his wife were dumbfounded.
“All that we own in the world is in that house,” the judge exclaimed, a dry sob in his voice. Phil and Sydney turned to the lieutenant inquiringly. Much could yet be saved. That officer understood the unspoken question. He flung a glance at the jeering savages.
“Yes,” he said, “half of us go in and save all we can.”
Within a half hour the beautiful home was a heap of ruins, but on the lawn was piled nearly all the judge’s possessions. His entire library, his most cherished possession, was saved.
“Lieutenant,” the judge said as he and his wife gazed mournfully at the ruin of their home, “I’m afraid I must now change my decision and go with you. It should be rare for a judge to have to reverse his decision except on the occasion of new evidence, and in this case the evidence is only too evident.”
The midshipmen, O’Neil and some of the sailors had dragged from the stable the judge’s carriage; the horses were gone, stolen by the rebels during the night.
“We’ll load it up and come back for a second load,” Lieutenant Morrison decided as he saw the carriage was too small to carry everything. “I’ll remain behind with half the men.”