CHAPTER FIFTY.
"Morgan," I whispered, and he started and looked at me wildly, themorning dawn showing his face smeared with blood, and blackened with thegrime of powder.
"Yes, my lad," he said, sadly; "I thought it was all over, and as soonas they were well at their work I meant to fire it."
I could not speak, and I knew it would be useless, so I shrank away, andcrept back past scores of despairing faces, to where my father layeagerly waiting for news.
As I went I saw that the officers were giving orders for restoringportions of our torn down defences, and that the day had given the menfresh energy, for they were working eagerly with their loaded pieceslaid ready, while food and drink were being rapidly passed along thefront.
"Only a temporary check, I'm afraid," said my father, as I describedeverything. "Brave fellows! What a defence! But you have waited toolong," he said. "Where is that man?"
"Hannibal?" I exclaimed; "I had forgotten him." For he had evidentlyglided away in the dark; but almost as I spoke he came up.
"Boat ready, Mass' George," he said. "Pomp swam out and got him.Waiting to take Mass' George and capen."
A warning cry just then rang out, and my father caught my arm. "Go andsee," he whispered; "don't keep me waiting so long."
I hurried to the front again, seeing Morgan and another man in earnestconversation, but they separated before I reached them, and as Morganwent in the direction from whence he would pass out from our piled-updefence to get to the powder, I followed him, seeing now clearly enoughhe had his gun in his hand.
I forgot about my own escape--the coming on of the Indians, of whom Ihad a glimpse outside the palisades--everything, in my intense desire tostop this man from carrying out his terrible plan. I was very near himnow, and should have caught him up had I not stumbled over a poor fellowlying in my way, and nearly fallen. As I recovered I could hear afearful yelling, and saw Morgan's hard-set face as he climbed backwarddown from the boxes, one of the men, whom I recognised as hisconfederate, helping him by holding his gun.
In a wild fit of despair, as I saw Morgan's hard-set face, I shouted tohim to stop, but my voice was drowned by the yelling of the Indians nowcoming on again with a rush, brandishing their axes, and evidently benton carrying all before them.
As I reached the edge, Morgan was half-way to the powder, crawling onhis chest, the Indians to our left, and the men I was trying to passfiring over Morgan's head.
They shouted to me, but I glided between two of them; and as they triedto pull me back, Han pressed them apart, and the next moment I wascreeping after Morgan.
The firing went on over us, and the Indians dashed forward on our left,yelling more loudly than ever. Then I heard a volley, and just caught aglimpse of the half-naked figures passing through the smoke. It was buta glance, for my attention was fixed upon Morgan, who had now reachedthe tarpaulin and canvas, thrown it partly aside, examined the primingof his gun, and I thought he was about to fire right into the midst ofthe powder-kegs, but he turned first to see whether the fight had yetreached the most desperate stage.
That was my time, and I leaped upon him, and tried to wrench the gunaway, as his wildly desperate face looked into mine.
"No, no, Morgan," I cried. "You must not; you shall not do that."
"Let go!" he cried, roughly; and the eyes that glared at mine seemedalmost those of a madman.
"No," I cried, "I will not."
"Don't you hear, Master George? Hark at them; the wretches have beguntheir work."
I still clung to the gun, and turned my head as a wild burst of shrieksrose from behind--the firing had ceased, but the shouting and yellingwere blood-curdling, as in that horrible moment I felt sure that our menwere beaten, and a massacre had begun.
But my father was there, and it seemed too horrible for such a deed asthis to be done. If we were to die by the Indians' hands, I felt thatwe must. But quietly stand by and let Morgan do this thing I would not,and I clung to the gun.
"Let go before it's too late, boy," panted Morgan, tugging fiercely nowto get the gun from me.
"No," I panted; "you shall not."
"I must, boy. There: hark at them. I shall be too late. Look, boy;run for your life. I'll wait till I see you over the big fence first."
"No," I panted again; "you shall not."
"Will you run for your life?"
"No!" I cried, as I seemed to see my helpless father stretching out hishands to me.
"Then I must have it," cried Morgan, fiercely, and as we knelt together,he twisted the gun in one direction, then in the other; and, boy as Iwas in strength, in another moment he would have torn it from my grasp,when a great black hand darted from just behind me, caught Morgan by thethroat, forced him back, and with a cry of triumph I dragged away thepiece, and fired it right away from the powder.
"Hold him, Han," I panted; "he is mad."
As if my shot had been the signal, a tremendous volley rang out frombeyond the palisade; then another, and another; and the Indians, who themoment before were battling desperately, and surmounting our defences asa wild hand-to-hand fight went on, began to give way; then they turnedand fled for the gap they had made, while, led by Colonel Preston, ourmen dashed after them.
"Look," I cried. "Morgan, we've won!" We all gazed wonderingly as theIndians disappeared through the gap in the great fence, when anothersharp volley rang out, but the smoke rose from outside.
"Help has come!" I shouted, and feeling no fear now of Morgan puttinghis desperate plan into action, I ran to join our men and learn what itmeant, closely followed by Hannibal, Morgan coming last.