"Yes, the wind must be from the north. But how soft, and sweet, and gentle it is! What is that?"

"What?" I replied listening, for I had not detected a sound.

"That noise of trampling feet. Don't you hear?"

I listened.

"Yes, it is as if some people were coming along from the beach."

"What people should be coming along from the beach?" exclaimed my father in an excited manner.

"Or is it the murmur of the waves, father?" I said.

"No," he whispered after listening; "there are people coming, and that was a sharp quick order. Run down to the cottages and warn the foreman.

Follow out the regular orders. You know. If it is a false alarm it will not matter, for it will be exercise for getting the men together against real trouble."

"Right, father," I said, and I was just about to run off to give the alarm to the foreman, who would alarm another man while I went to a fresh house. Then there would be four of us to alarm four more, who would run up to the rendezvous while we alarmed four more, and so the gathering would be complete, and the men at the counting-house and armed in a very few minutes.

I say I was just about to rush off, when a dark figure made a rush at us, and caught hold of my father's arm.

"Quick, captain!" he whispered. "The French. Landed from a big sloop.

Coming up the Gap."

"Are you sure?" said my father in a low voice.

The answer came upon the soft breeze, and I stopped for no more, but ran down the slope as hard as I could go, dashed into the foreman's cottage, gave the alarm, and he leaped up, his wife catching up her child and following to go along the Gap, as already arranged, the woman knowing that the others would follow her so as to get to a place of safety in case of the enemy getting the upper hand.

It 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 pa.s.s 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 cutla.s.s, 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 cutla.s.ses, and I daresay we can beat them off. Ready?"

There was a dead silence.

"I would light the candles," said my father in a low firm voice, "but it would be helping the enemy, if enemy they are. Who's that?"

"It is I, sir, Bigley," said a familiar voice.

"I had forgotten you. What is it?"

"I have no weapons, sir."

"No, of course not. Boy, you cannot fight."

"Why not, sir?"

"Because--because--" I was close to them, and they were speaking in a low tone; "because--" said my father again.

"Because you think I should be fighting against my father," said Bigley sharply; "but I'm sure, sir, that it is not so."

"How do I know that?" said my father.

_Rap, rap, rap_, came now at the door, and a voice with a decided French accent, a voice that sounded familiar to me, said:

"Ees any boady here?"

"There, sir, it is the French."

"I don't know that," said my father. Then: "Stand fast, my lads."

"Ees any boady here?" said the same voice.

"Yes. Who's there?" said my father.

"Aha, it is good," came from outside. "My friends and bruders have make great meestakes and lose our vays. Can you show us to ze Ripplemouts towns?"

"Straight down to the sea and along by the cliff path east," said my father shortly.

"Open ze doors; I cannot make myselfs to hear."

My father repeated his instructions; there was a low murmur outside; and then there was a sharp beating on the door, as if from the hilt of a sword.

"What now?" cried my father.