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Updated: May 25, 2025
"A fine, smart, active young fellow." "That's another of your lies," laughed Captain Sullivan. "He was an old, gray-headed weazel and far too smart for you!" Haw-haw-haw! "Laugh while you can," Girty retorted. "We see your wooden cannon-piece mounted on that roof. When you hear our own pieces battering down your walls you'll laugh in a different key. This is the last summons.
Refuse, and every soul of you will fall to bullet and hatchet." "Better to die that way, fighting, than to surrender and be butchered like dogs, the Colonel Crawford way," Silas Zane answered. The attack was launched furiously. In a howling mob the Indians charged gates and loop-holes. They despised the threat of the little French cannon-piece upon the roof of the headquarters cabin.
Simon Girty and the other chiefs white and red rallied them and divided them into parties, with due care for the cannon-piece. From every exposed side they volleyed at the fort and the Zane cabin. They charged and fell back and charged again. In fort and cabin the rifles, deftly loaded by the fast-working women and girls, waxed hot. With darkness the general firing died down.
To take in sail was his first thought; then, with the assistance of the clumsy seamen, he rolled out a small cannon-piece, and for one long hour did he keep up an incessant fire. The coming storm was now plainly discernible; the distant rolling of thunder was heard, the sea was agitated, and occasionally a flaw would shake the rattlings.
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