The sunset hour of July 28 was reached. Services had been held that
afternoon in the Cathedral,--services in which doubtless the help of God
was despairingly invoked, since that of man seemed in vain. The
heart-sick people left the doors, and were about to disperse to their
foodless homes, when a loud cry of hope and gladness came from the
lookout in the tower above their heads.
"They are coming!" was the stirring cry. "The ships are coming up the
river! I can see their sails plainly! Relief is coming!"
How bounded the hearts of those that heard this gladsome cry! The
listeners dispersed, carrying the glad news to every corner of the town.
Others came in hot haste, eager to hear further reports from the lookout
tower. The town, lately so quiet and depressed, was suddenly filled with
activity. Hope swelled every heart, new life ran in every vein; the
news was like a draught of wine that gave fresh spirit to the most
despairing soul.
And now other tidings came. There was a busy stir in the camp of the
besiegers. They were crowding to the river-banks. As far as the eye
could see, the stream was lined. The daring ships had a gauntlet of fire
to run. Their attempt seemed hopeless, indeed.
Pages:
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337