We tumbled into our men as they settled their plan of defence.  We were twenty-one all told.  Ten were to go along the Hog’s Back cliff towards Pointe Chateau, where they would overlook the point of landing, if the enemy made straight for the valley.  They were to begin firing the moment the boats touched shore, and then to draw back into the valley.  The other ten were to lie in the bracken on the slope of the opposite hill, just where it gives on to the bay, and to pour in their fire before the enemy had recovered from his first dose.  Then, if he came on, the two bands would meet him with volleys from both hillsides as he came into the valley, and again retiring along the hillsides, would continue to harass him till, at the head of the valley, if he got that far, the united bands would meet him hand to hand.  We judged he might be about thirty strong, but hoped our first volleys might bring us about even.

Uncle George asked me to go with himself and the nine along Hog’s Back.  As I had no gun, and only one arm in full working order, I might be useful in carrying any change of orders to the other party.

There was no sound of their coming yet, but the pull round Derrible Pointe would account for that.  So we stole silently along to our appointed places.

The night was very dark and squally, but on this side of the Island we were sheltered.  On the other side the white waves would be roaring and gnashing up the black cliffs, but here in Dixcart they fell sadly on the shingle and drew back into the depths with long-drawn growls and hisses.

“V’la!” said Uncle George, as we lay on the cliff; and we heard the oars below in the bay, and all stood up ready.

They came in as close under the cliff as they dared, so close that we heard their voices clearly between the falling of the waves.  And then, dimly, we saw the black bulks of their boats in the streaming surf as it ran back to the sea, and I started, for I could only see three, but could not be certain.

“Now!” said Uncle George, and our volley caught them full.

They roared curses, and began snapping back at us as each man found his musket.  But a step back took us under cover, for a black cliff two hundred and fifty feet high, and hidden in the night, offered no mark for them, and from the face of the opposite hill our other volley crashed into the marks their own fire offered.

“Again!” said Uncle George, as soon as our men were ready, and our ten guns spoke once more.

They were sadly discomfited, and furiously angry down below there.  But those who were not wounded had tumbled ashore, and they replied to our second volley with a more concerted fire.  And in the flash Of their guns I, craning over the scarp of the hill, saw clearly but three boats.

“Only three boats,” I whispered in George Hamon’s ear.  “I’m off to look for the other,” and before he could stop me I was gone.  For he needed all his men, and I believed I could manage alone.