He burst away, like fire going before the
wind over dry reeds. He roused up the
seven men who were off duty, and had them
bursting away with him, before they knew
they were not asleep. I reported orders to
Charker, and ran to the Fort, as I have never
run at any other time in all my life: no, not
even in a dream.

The gate was not fast, and had no good
fastening: only a double wooden bar, a poor
chain, and a bad lock. Those, I secured as
well as they could be secured in a few
seconds by one pair of hands, and so ran to
that part of the building where Miss Maryon
lived. I called to her loudly by her name
until she answered. I then called loudly all
the names I knew—Mrs. Macey (Miss
Maryon's married sister), Mr. Macey, Mrs.
Venning, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, even Mr.
and Mrs. Pordage. Then I called out, "All
you gentlemen here, get up and defend the
place! We are caught in a trap. Pirates
have landed. We are attacked!"

At the terrible word "Pirates!"—for, those
villains had done such deeds in those seas as
never can be told in writing, and can scarcely
be so much as thought of—cries and screams
rose up from every part of the place. Quickly,
lights moved about from window to window,
and the cries moved about with them, and
men, women and children came flying down
into the square. I remarked to myself, even
then, what a number of things I seemed to
see at once. I noticed Mrs. Macey coming
towards me, carrying all her three children
together. I noticed Mr. Pordage, in the
greatest terror, in vain trying to get on his
Diplomatic coat; and Mr. Kitten respectfully
tying his pocket-handkerchief over Mrs.
Pordage's nightcap. I noticed Mrs. Belltott
run out screaming, and shrink upon the
ground near me, and cover her face in her
hands, and lie, all of a bundle, shivering.
But, what I noticed with the greatest pleasure
was, the determined eyes with which those
men of the Mine that I had thought fine
gentlemen, came round me with what arms
they had: to the full as cool and resolute as I
could be, for my life—aye, and for my soul,
too, into the bargain!

The chief person being Mr. Macey, I told
him how the three men of the guard would
be at the gate directly, if they were not
already there, and how Serjeant Drooce and
the other seven were gone to bring in the
outlying part of the people of Silver-store.
I next urged him, for the love all who were
dear to him, to trust no Sambo, and, above
all, if he could get any good chance at
Christian George King, not to lose it, but to
put him out of the world. "I will follow
your advice to the letter, Davis," says he;
"what next?" My answer was, "I think,
sir, I would recommend you next, to order
down such heavy furniture and lumber as can
be moved, and make a barricade within the
gate." "That's good again," saya he; "will
you see it done?" "I'll willingly help to do
it," says I, "unless or until my superior,
Serjeant Drooce, gives me other orders." He
shook me by the hand, and having told
off some of his companions to help me,
bestirred himself to look to the arms and
ammunition. A proper quick, brave, steady,
ready gentleman!

One of their three little children was deaf
and dumb. Miss Maryon had been from the
first with all the children, soothing them, and
dressing them (poor little things, they had
been brought out of their beds), and making
them believe that it was a game of play, so
that some of them were now even laughing.
I had been working hard with the others
at the barricade, and had got up a pretty
good breastwork within the gate. Drooce
and the seven had come back, bringing in
the people from the Signal Hill, and had
worked along with us: but, I had not so
much as spoken a word to Drooce, nor had
Drooce so much as spoken a word to me, for
we were both too busy. The breastwork
was now finished, and I found Miss Maryon
at my side, with a child in her arms. Her
dark hair was fastened round her head with
a band. She had a quantity of it, and it
looked even richer and more precious, put
up hastily out of her way, than I had seen
it look when it was carefully arranged. She
was very pale, but extraordinarily quiet and
still.

"Dear good Davis," said she, "I have been
waiting to speak one word to you."

I turned to her directly. If I had received
a musket-ball in the heart, and she had stood
there, I almost believe I should have turned
to her before I dropped.

"This pretty little creature," said she,
kissing the child in her arms, who was
playing with her hair and trying to pull it
down, "cannot hear what we say—can hear
nothing. I trust you so much, and have
such great confidence in you, that I want you
to make me a promise."

"What is it, Miss?"

"That if we are defeated, and you are
absolutely sure of my being taken, you will
kill me."

"I shall not be alive to do it, Miss. I shall
have died in your defence before it comes to
that. They must step across my body, to lay
a hand on you."

"But, if you are alive, you brave soldier."
How she looked at me! "And if you cannot
save me from the Pirates, living, you will
save me, dead. Tell me so."

Well! I told her I would do that, at the
last, if all else failed. She took my hand
—my rough, coarse hand—and put it to her
lips. She put it to the child's lips, and the
child kissed it. I believe I had the strength
of half a dozen men in me, from that moment,
until the fight was over.

All this time, Mr. Commissioner Pordage
had been wanting to make a Proclamation to