The weather continued calm, and
by nightfall the _Gladwyn_ was still nine miles below
the fort. As darkness fell on that moonless night the
captain, alarmed at the flight of the Iroquois, posted
a careful guard and had his cannon at bow and stern made
ready to resist attack. So dark was the night that it
was impossible to discern objects at any distance. Along
the black shore Indians were gathering, and soon a fleet
of canoes containing over three hundred warriors was
slowly and silently moving towards the becalmed _Gladwyn_.
So noiseless was their approach that they were within a
few yards of the vessel before a watchful sentry, the
boatswain, discerned them. At his warning cry the crew
leapt to their quarters. The bow gun thundered out, and
its flash gave the little band on the boat a momentary
glimpse of a horde of painted enemies. There was no time
to reload the gun. The canoes were all about the schooner,
and yelling warriors were clambering over the stern and
bow and swarming on the deck. The crew discharged their
muskets into the savages, and then seized spears and
hatchets and rushed madly at them, striking and stabbing
--determined at least to sell their lives dearly. For
a moment the Indians in the black darkness shrank back
from the fierce attack.
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