t proved, as my father had trusted, but a matter of very few minutes
before four men were running to the counting-house to receive the
weapons ready for them, and for eight to follow, while the women and
children were being hurried from the cottages and away inland.

The foreman and I were in front of the six men we were bringing, and as
we ran and neared the dim grey-looking building that was to be our fort,
we could hear the coming of what seemed to be quite a large body of men,
who were talking together in a low voice, while from time to time a
sharp command was uttered.

Then, all at once, and just as we reached the counting-house, there was
a fresh order, and the sounds ceased, not a voice to be heard, and the
tramp completely hushed.

"What did it mean?" I asked myself, as a curious sensation of
excitement came over me, for it seemed that the strangers, whoever they
were, perhaps the French, as Bigley had said, had halted to fire at us
as we rushed to the counting-house door, and I fully expected to see the
flashes of their muskets, and hear the reports and the whistling of the
bullets.

But no, all remained still, and we paused at the door to let the others
pass in first, and then, with a wonderful sense of relief, I leaped in,
and heard the door closed behind quickly, but with hardly a sound.

It was a curious sensation. The moment before I felt in terrible
danger. Now I felt quite safe, for I was behind strong walls, though in
reality I was in greater danger than before.

There was no confusion, no hurry. The drilling had been so perfect, and
my father had been for so long prepared for just such an emergency as
this, that everything was done with a matter-of-fact ease.

Already as we reached the door the four first comers had been armed; now
as the men entered they crossed over to the other side, and cutlass,
pistols, and a well-filled cartouche-box were handed to each, and he
took them, strapped on his belt, and then fell in, standing at ease.

"All armed?" said my father then, as we stood in the dark.

There was no answer--a good sign that everyone was supplied.

"The women and children gone?" said my father then.

No answer again.

"Load!" said my father.

Then there was a rustling noise, the clicking of ramrods, a dull
thudding, more clicking, and silence.

"Now," said my father, "no man to fire until I give the word. Trust to
your cutlasses, and I daresay we can beat them off. Ready?"