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Young Gillam gave one scornful glance at the French faces and laughed. "If you had a hundred men instead of twenty," he jeered. "How many have you, Ben?" "Nine; and they'll kill you before you reach the palisades." Radisson was not talking of killing. "Gillam," he returned imperturbably, "pick out nine of my men, and I have your fort within forty-eight hours."
One blow of his pole and the foolish youth fell senseless to the bottom of the canoe. "Look, sir, look!" screamed La Chesnaye, "the canoe's getting ice-logged! She's sunk to the gun'ales!" But at the moment when M. Radisson turned to save young Gillam, the unguided canoe had darted between two rolling seas. Walls of ice rose on either side.
Then superior weight told, and it moved forward again, reenforced by quarter and right end; but simultaneously the Erskine quarter and left half made themselves felt back of Mason and Gillam, and then chaos reigned.
That hastened M. Radisson's departure, though sun-dogs and the long, shrill whistling of contrary winds foretold what was brewing. "Sink me, after such kindness, I'll see you part way home! By the Lord Harry, I will!" swore Ben. M. Radisson screwed his eyes nigh shut and protested he could not permit young Captain Gillam to take such trouble.
As if to defy the powers of that deathly realm, M. de Radisson had the more logs heaped on our hearth and doubled the men's rations. On Christmas morning he had us all out to fire a salute, Ben Gillam and Jack and the two Fur Company spies disguised as usual, and the rest of us muffled to our eyes. Jackets and tompions were torn from the cannon. Unfrosted priming was distributed.
We'll not waste a pound o' powder in capturing that prize!" He turned suddenly to me "As I live by bread, 'tis that bragging young dandy-prat hop-o'-my-thumb Ben Gillam of Boston Town!" "Ben Gillam!" I was thinking of my assailant in the woods. "Ben was tall. The pirate, who came carving at me, was small."
We drew up before the front garden and entered by a turnstile with flying arms. Many a ride have little Rebecca Stocking, of the court-house, and Ben Gillam, the captain's son, and Jack Battle, the sailor lad, had, perched on that turnstile, while I ran pushing and jumping on, as the arms flew creaking round. The home-coming was not auspicious. Yet I thought no resentment against my uncle.
In it were Captain Gillam, Radisson's personal enemy, John Bridgar, the new governor of the Hudson's Bay Company for Nelson River, and six sailors. All were heavily armed, yet Radisson stood alone to receive them, with his three companions posted on the outskirts of the woods as if in command of ambushed forces.
It looked as if the contraband might be a venture of the father as well as the son. Radisson and young Gillam recognized each other with a show of friendliness, Gillam inviting Radisson to inspect the ship with much the same motive that the fabled spider invited the fly.
Down ran Ben Gillam and a second officer, armed cap-a-pie, with swaggering insolence that they took no pains to conceal. "Congratulate you on coming in the nick of time," cried Ben. "Now what in the Old Nick does he mean by that?" said Radisson. "Does the cub think to cower me with his threats?" "I trust your welcome includes my four officers," he responded.
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