I stood there, feeling like a deserter from the ranks, yet bound to
keep the door of Laurel Creek, and I had a pistol in either hand and
so had Sir Humphrey Hyde, but for a minute nobody seemed to heed us.
Then as I stood there, I felt the door behind me yield a bit and a
hand was thrust out, and a voice whispered, "Harry, Harry, come in
hither; we can hold the house against an army."
My heart leapt, for it was Mary, and, quicker than a flash, I had my
mind made up. I turned upon Sir Humphrey and thrust him in before he
knew it, through the opening of the door, and called out to him to
bar and bolt as best he could inside, while I held the door. He,
whether he would or not, was in the house, and seeing some of the
soldiers riding our way with Captain Waller at their head, was
forced to clap to the door, and shoot the bolts, but as he did so I
heard a woman's shrill cry of agony ring out.
I stood there, and Captain Waller rode up with his soldiers, and
flashing his sword before my face like a streak of fire, bade me
surrender in the name of his Majesty, and stand aside. But I stood
still with my two pistols levelled, and had him full within range.
Captain Waller was a young man, and a brave one, and never to my
dying day shall I forget that face which I had the power to still
with death. He looked into the muzzles of my two pistols, and his
rosy colour never wavered, and he shouted out again to me his
command to surrender and stand aside in the name of the King, and I
stood still and made no reply. I knew that I could take two lives
and then struggle unarmed for perhaps a moment's space, and that all
the time saved might be precious for those in the house. At all
events, it was all that I could do for Mary Cavendish.
I held my pistols and watched his eyes, knowing well that all action
through having its source in the brain of man, gives first evidence
in the eyes. Then the time came when I saw his impulse to charge
start in his eyes, and I fired, and he fell. Then I fired again, but
wildly, for everything was in motion, and I know not whom I hit, if
any one, then I felt my own right leg sink under me and I knew that
I was hit. Then down on my knees I sank and put one arm through the
great latch of the door, and thrust out with my knife with the free
hand, and stout arms were at my shoulders striving to drag me away,
but they might as well for a time have tried to drag a bar of steel
from its fastenings. I thrust out here and there, and I trow my
steel drew blood, and I suppose my own flowed, for presently I was
kneeling in a widening circle of red. I cut those forcing hands from
my arm, and others came. It was one against a multitude, for the
rabble after hitting wild blows as often at their friends as at
their enemies had broken and fled, except those who were taken
prisoners. But the women stayed until the last and fought like wild
cats, with the exception of Madam Tabitha Story, who quietly got
upon her old horse, and ambled away, and cut down her own tobacco
until daybreak, pressing her slaves into service.