|                        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. |