r the mouth of Tom's River, they were there
joined by a detachment of Monmouth County refugees under Richard
Davenport. Securing a guide, the party had made a wide detour through
the woods, coming upon the blockhouse from the Court House Road
instead of the river road, which was the logical one to use. The small
force of the garrison was outnumbered several times over by their
assailants, but of this fact both sides were ignorant for the time
being. All these particulars Peggy, of course, did not know. She only
knew that the fort was being stormed; that the numbers of the enemy
seemed multitudinous, and that the noise was deafening.

By this time the women were up; either out on the verandah, or at the
windows of the upper floors of the dwelling straining their eyes
eagerly toward the blockhouse. Firelocks and muskets were banging, and
the surrounding woods swam in smoke. Volley after volley swept the
pines, then came the thundering report of the cannon. The smoke came
driving toward the town into their faces, blinding and choking them.
Again and again the cannon flashed and thundered. Again and again came
the dense black pall of smoke. But so long as the fort stood the
village was safe, and breathlessly the anxious women waited the issue,
striving, when the smoke lifted, to catch glimpses of what was
occurring.

[Illustration: A CRY OF ANGUISH WENT UP.]

For a considerable time the report of musketry and the cannonading
was incessant. The assault on the part of the enemy was furious, and
was met by the defenders with great firmness and gallantry. Suddenly
the sound of the cannon ceased. The women gazed at each other in
alarm. What did it mean? Had the garrison repulsed the foe, or was the
ammunition exhausted? For a little longer the volleys from the muskets
continued unabated, then these became fewer, until presently only a
few scattering reports sounded. Soon the firing stopped altogether.
The countenances of the women blanched. What was taking place behind
those clouds of smoke?

As if in answer to the question, the smoke cleared. Through the
whirling rifts they caught glimpses of the sky, the tree tops, and
finally of the blockhouse itself. An awful cry arose from the women.
The walls were partly down, and a terrific hand-to-hand struggle was
taking place between friend and foe. There followed a few moments in
which attackers and attacked were indistinguishable. Then, high above
the clash of pike and bayonet,