PART FOUR: The Stockade
Chapter 21: The Attack
(continued)
Nothing followed for a time, but the remark had set us
all on the alert, straining ears and eyes--the
musketeers with their pieces balanced in their hands,
the captain out in the middle of the block house with
his mouth very tight and a frown on his face.
So some seconds passed, till suddenly Joyce whipped up
his musket and fired. The report had scarcely died
away ere it was repeated and repeated from without in a
scattering volley, shot behind shot, like a string of
geese, from every side of the enclosure. Several
bullets struck the log-house, but not one entered; and
as the smoke cleared away and vanished, the stockade
and the woods around it looked as quiet and empty as
before. Not a bough waved, not the gleam of a musket-barrel
betrayed the presence of our foes.
"Did you hit your man?" asked the captain.
"No, sir," replied Joyce. "I believe not, sir."
"Next best thing to tell the truth," muttered Captain
Smollett. "Load his gun, Hawkins. How many should say
there were on your side, doctor?"
"I know precisely," said Dr. Livesey. "Three shots
were fired on this side. I saw the three flashes--two
close together--one farther to the west."
"Three!" repeated the captain. "And how many on yours,
Mr. Trelawney?"
But this was not so easily answered. There had come
many from the north--seven by the squire's computation,
eight or nine according to Gray. From the east and
west only a single shot had been fired. It was plain,
therefore, that the attack would be developed from the
north and that on the other three sides we were only to
be annoyed by a show of hostilities. But Captain
Smollett made no change in his arrangements. If the
mutineers succeeded in crossing the stockade, he argued,
they would take possession of any unprotected loophole
and shoot us down like rats in our own stronghold.
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