Jackets and tompions were torn from the cannon.
Unfrosted priming was distributed. Flags were run up on boats and
bastions. Then the word was given to fire and cheer at the top of our
voices.
Ben Gillam was sober enough that morning but in the mood of a ruffian
stale from overnight brawls. Hardly had the rocking echoes of
cannonading died away when the rascal strode boldly forward in front of
us all, up with his musket, took quick aim at the main flagstaff and
fired. The pole splintered off at the top and the French flag fluttered
to the ground.
"There's for you--you Frenchies!" he shouted. "See the old rag tumble!"
'Twas the only time M. Radisson gave vent to wrath.
"Dog!" he ground out, wrenching the gun from Gillam's hands.
"Avast! Avast!" cries Ben. "He who lives in glass-houses needs not to
throw stones! Mind that, ye pirate!"
"Dog!" repeats M. Radisson, "dare to show disrespect to the Most
Christian of Kings!"
"Most Christian of Kings!" flouts Ben. "I'll return to my fort! Then
I'll show you what I'll give the Most Christian of Kings!"
La Chesnaye rushed up with rash threat; but M. de Radisson pushed the
merchant aside and stood very still, looking at Ben.
"Young man," he began, as quietly as if he were wishing Ben the season's
compliments, "I brought you to this fort for the purpose of keeping you
in this fort, and it is for me to say when you may leave this fort!"
Ben rumbled out a string of oaths, and M.
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