They found the post already occupied by half a dozen
interested villagers, who paid no attention to the new arrivals.
By this time the English boats had reached the water's edge. On this
occasion Major Lawrence had nearly eight hundred men at his command,
and was resolved to carry his enterprise to a successful issue.
The troops did not wait to form, under the now galling fire from the
breastwork, but swarmed up the red slope in loose skirmishing order,
pouring in a hot dropping fire as they ran. As they reached the dike
a ringing cheer broke out, and they dashed at the awkward and slippery
steep.
A few reached the top, and for a moment the English colors crowned the
embankment. But at the same time the painted defenders rose with a yell,
and beat back their assailants with gunstock and hatchet. The red flag
was seized by a tall savage, and Pierre gave a little cry of excitement
as he thought the enemies' colors were captured. But his enthusiasm was
premature. The stripling who carried the colors, finding no chance
to use his sword, grasped the Indian about the waist and dragged him
off the dike, when he was promptly made captive.
Now the English withdrew a few paces, held back with difficulty by
their officers, and one, whom the watchers on the knoll took for Lawrence
himself was seen giving orders, standing with his back half turned to
the breastwork, as undisturbed as if the shower of Micmac bullets were
a snowstorm. Presently the redcoats charged again, this time slowly
and silently, in long, regular lines.
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