PART FOUR: The Stockade
Chapter 21: The Attack
(continued)
The iron fire-basket was carried bodily out by Mr.
Trelawney, and the embers smothered among sand.
"Hawkins hasn't had his breakfast. Hawkins, help
yourself, and back to your post to eat it," continued
Captain Smollett. "Lively, now, my lad; you'll want it
before you've done. Hunter, serve out a round of
brandy to all hands."
And while this was going on, the captain completed, in
his own mind, the plan of the defence.
"Doctor, you will take the door," he resumed. "See,
and don't expose yourself; keep within, and fire
through the porch. Hunter, take the east side, there.
Joyce, you stand by the west, my man. Mr. Trelawney,
you are the best shot--you and Gray will take this long
north side, with the five loopholes; it's there the
danger is. If they can get up to it and fire in upon
us through our own ports, things would begin to look
dirty. Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account at
the shooting; we'll stand by to load and bear a hand."
As the captain had said, the chill was past. As soon as
the sun had climbed above our girdle of trees, it fell
with all its force upon the clearing and drank up the
vapours at a draught. Soon the sane was baking and the
resin melting in the logs of the block house. Jackets
and coats were flung aside, shirts thrown open at the
neck and rolled up to the shoulders; and we stood there,
each at his post, in a fever of heat and anxiety.
An hour passed away.
"Hang them!" said the captain. "This is as dull as the
doldrums. Gray, whistle for a wind."
And just at that moment came the first news of the attack.
"If you please, sir," said Joyce, "if I see anyone, am
I to fire?"
"I told you so!" cried the captain.
"Thank you, sir," returned Joyce with the same quiet civility.
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