“I do not think you and the blacks will leave me, Joyce,” he observed, as the serjeant and himself descended, by the common passage, to the court.  “On you I can rely, as I would rely on my noble son, were he with me at this moment.”

“I beg your honour’s pardon—­few words tell best for a man, deeds being his duty—­but, if your honour will have the condescension just to issue your orders, the manner in which they shall be obeyed will tell the whole story.”

“I am satisfied of that, serjeant; we must put shoulder to shoulder, and die in the breach, should it be necessary, before we give up the place.”

By this time the two old soldiers were again in the court, where they found all their remaining force, of the male sex; the men being too uneasy, indeed, to think of going to their pallets, until better assured of their safety.  Captain Willoughby ordered Joyce to draw them up in line again, when he addressed them once more in person.

“My friends,” the captain commenced, “there would be little use in attempting to conceal from you our real situation; nor would it be strictly honest.  You see here every man on whom I can now depend for the defence of my fireside and family.  Mike has gone with the rest, and the Indian has escaped in his company.  You can make up your own opinions of our chances of success, but my resolution is formed.  Before I open a gate to the merciless wretches without, who are worse than the savages of the wilderness, possessing all their bad and none of their redeeming qualities, it is my determination to be buried under the ruins of this dwelling.  But you are not bound to imitate my example; and, if any man among you, black or white, regrets being here at this moment, he shall still have arms and ammunition, and food given him, the gates shall be opened and he may go freely to seek his safety in the forest.  For God’s sake let there be no more desertions; he that wishes to quit me, may now quit me unmolested; but, after this moment, martial law will be, enforced, and I shall give orders to shoot down any man detected in treachery, as I would shoot down a vicious dog.”

This address was heard in profound silence.  No man stirred, nor did any man speak.

“Blodget,” continued the captain, “you have been with me a shorter time than any other person present, and cannot feel the same attachment to me and mine as the rest.  You are the only native American among us, Joyce excepted—­for we count the blacks as nothing in respect to country—­may feel that I am an Englishman born, as I fear has been the case with the rest of your friends.  Perhaps I ought not to ask you to remain.  Take your arms, then, and make the best of your way to the settlements.  Should you reach Albany, you might even serve me essentially by delivering a letter I will confide to you, and which will bring us effectual succour.”

The young man did not answer, though his fingers worked on the barrel of his musket, and he shifted his weight, from leg to leg, like one whose inward feelings were moved.