# Metipom's Hostage/Chapter 22
### CHAPTER XXII THE ATTACK ON THE GARRISON

By a miracle, as it seemed, they reached the edge of the woods undetected, and from there, pausing a moment, had their first view of the distressed village. The firing had diminished somewhat, though from the garrison house, which stood, readily distinguished in the light of the burning buildings, near the center of the settlement, a flash now and then told of a musket shot. Between the rescue party and the beleaguered garrison many buildings had been burned, but the ruins, some still glowing and smouldering, afforded protection and served to hide their approach to some extent. Skulking forms flitted about in the lurid gloom, and under the lee of a still standing granary many Indians were to be seen gathered at some task not apparent from such distance.
Major Willard spoke softly and the company crept from the concealment of the forest, keeping as best they might under cover of the blackened ruins. A dozen yards were ​traversed without alarm. Then a cry went up from the darkness at their left and an arrow sped past them. A dragoon at David’s side stopped and fired, and simultaneously there was a groan from one farther in advance and he sank into the arms of a comrade. The Indians were firing at them now from the direction of the granary with muskets, while a number of arrows came from other points. Carrying the wounded man, they dashed across the intervening ground toward the garrison. From the loopholes of that building flashes told that they had been seen and that those within were seeking to protect them with their fire. From the moment of the alarm until they had reached the portal of the garrison was but a scant space of time, and so sudden had been their appearance that the enemy, surprised, confused, and, doubtless, uncertain as to their strength of numbers, presented small opposition. It was not until they were crowding through the door that the Indians began to fire upon them in earnest. Then, since they were well shadowed, the bullets and arrows did them no hurt save that one man received a trifling wound in his hand.
Their appearance was the signal for great ​rejoicing amongst the inhabitants of the garrison, who, as it was proved, numbered about eighty all told. Captain Wheeler was in command. Captain Hutchinson, who had been sorely wounded the day before, lay on a pallet in the upper story. So far but one of the garrison had been killed and one wounded since they had taken refuge there. The Indians had attacked ferociously last night and again early in the afternoon, exposing themselves far more than was usual to the fire of the defenders, so that it was reckoned more than half a hundred had been killed. Of the relief from Hadley nothing had been seen or heard. Many of the garrison from constant fighting were wearied almost beyond endurance, and with the arrival of the reënforcements, these were sent to rest themselves while the dragoons took their places at the firing-holes. Food and ammunition were plentiful, though with fifty more on hand the water supply might soon give out unless all partook sparingly.
David took his place beside his father where a view of the village to the right of the garrison house was presented. It was from that direction that the next attack was expected, they learned. For nearly half an ​hour the Indians had been quieter and it was believed that they were preparing a new attempt to set fire to the house. Many times they had tried it, since they had found that bullets and arrows profited them little. Last night they had dipped bundles of rags in oil and tied them to long poles and with those attempted to creep near enough to attain their fiendish object. But each time the fire from the garrison had defeated them. They had likewise tried fire-arrows, but with even poorer success. What new device they were considering remained to be seen.
It now seemed that the enemy was angered by the arrival of the relief, or, perhaps, at their own outwitting, for they fell to the attack with redoubled fury, firing from all sides. Seldom were the besiegers visible to those within the garrison, or, if visible, they were seen so uncertainly that accurate shooting was difficult. Yet muskets were discharged whenever opportunity afforded and quickly loaded again. The stench of powder became well-nigh intolerable within the house.
While the firing was heaviest an exclamation from his father caused David to blink his smarting eyes and peer more closely into the outer gloom. From around a corner of ​the granary came some dark object that puzzled all who gazed. But in another moment, when the flickering light from a nearby conflagration fell upon it, it was revealed as a cart piled high with hemp and flax and such like combustibles. Already fire was licking it with red tongues. In what manner it was propelled was a mystery at first. Then, as it came nearer, it was seen that the Indians had spliced many long poles together, and so, from the shelter of the darkness and shadows beyond, were pushing it backwards toward the building.
“An that thing reaches us we be doomed,” muttered Nathan Lindall, resting his cheek to his musket as he peered forth.
“I see none to aim at, father,” said David.
“Nor I, forsooth! The villains have found them a pretty strategy!”
“There’s naught for it save to charge forth and upset the cart ere it touches the house!” cried one. “Else we shall be roasted alive here!”
At that instant a great clap of thunder burst overhead that shook the earth and for the instant silenced the uneasy clatter of tongues. Then silence once more, a silence ​in which no musket shot broke, in which the besiegers themselves seemed stricken to inaction and fear. The burning cart had stopped at a short distance, its contents now flaming prodigiously and, as it happened, lending aid to those in the house, for by its light the Indians who pushed from the end of the long pole appeared dimly in the background. A dozen shots burst together from the garrison and some of the Indians dropped or staggered away. But others took their places and again the cart came forward. At his loophole David could now feel the warmth of the flames. Suddenly what had escaped him before became apparent, which was that back of the cart, so close it was a marvel that their naked bodies were not scorched by the heat, three savages pushed, trusting to the bulk of the cart to escape detection. But now the flames had revealed them, and with a sudden fierce exultation David drew down the muzzle of his gun until it covered the breast of one who, not without a courage worthy a better use, plodded in fair sight behind the cart. The boy’s finger pressed upon the trigger, and then a leaping flame threw its ruddy light full on the Indian’s countenance and David’s finger relaxed. For ​the face was the face of Sequanawah, captain of the Wachoosetts!
Many thoughts rushed through the boy’s mind in that tiny instant of time. He recalled Sequanawah’s numerous kindnesses, his declaration of friendship, his sorrow at parting. He had but to press that trigger a shade more and the Indian’s soul would go back to his Maker, for the naked breast lay a fair target below him.
“Shoot!”
It was his father’s voice, almost drowned by the concussion of his own gun as he strove to send a bullet into the brain of one of Sequanawah’s companions. David’s heart contracted and the finger on the trigger again pressed tauter. But that instant of hesitation had made the difference between life and death to the Wachoosett. With a final thrust, the burning cart crashed against the house and the flames licked the boards and flared as high as the upper windows. And in the self-same moment a great flash of lightning blazed over the world, paling the ruddy flames in its white intensity. So unforeseen and alarming was it that those at the firing-holes fell back with gasps of fright. A terrific blast of thunder followed it, and the house ​shook in every timber. When David sprang again to his post Sequanawah and those who had dared with him were gone. Close to the granary some forms emerged swiftly into the shadows and disappeared from his sight. From below came cries of alarm and consternation, for the flames from the cart were already eating at the building.
“Look!” exclaimed Nathan Lindall. “The granary is on fire! A lightning bolt has struck it!”
So it was, and David, peering forth, saw not only the flames bursting from the high-peaked roof, but the forms of many Indians swiftly fleeing from its shelter. One shot he sped, and then a second time the heavens opened with appalling radiance, again the thunder crashed, and, ere its last rumble had died away, from the sundered sky descended a torrent of rain such as none there had ever witnessed!
Straight down it came, a veritable cataract, and the noise of its falling on the shingled roof close above their heads was well-nigh deafening. Gazing into it was like looking through a solid sheet of water. For an instant only the flames of the burning houses showed through the hissing deluge. Then ​only blackness was left on every side. The burning cart resisted longer, but that, too, was soon out, and through the house heartfelt expressions of joy and thanksgiving arose.
“Now has the Lord by a miracle delivered us from our enemies!” cried Nathan Lindall. “Blessed be the name of Our Lord!”
“Amen!” answered all who heard.