"No, sir; I can't send any one out there to be shot at. It is certain death, sir."
Frank, who thought that the captain had suddenly grown very careful of his men, made no reply, but hastened back to the spot where he had left his battery. To his joy and surprise he found one of the howitzers safe in the hands of his men; and, as he came up, a shell went crashing toward the rebel line, followed by a triumphant shout from the sailors. The boatswain's mate, who had managed to secure the gun, by throwing a rope around the trail-wheel, was endeavoring, in the same manner, to obtain possession of the other. After a few ineffectual attempts, he succeeded, and the gun was pulled back safely into the bushes. When they had secured the remainder of the ammunition, the men caught up the trail-ropes, and, without delay, Frank took his old position in the center of the retreating line. The rebels followed them so closely that the sailors were frequently compelled to halt and drive them back. During one of these halts, the captain of the expedition was killed. As if by magic, Mr. Howe appeared on the scene, and, without waiting to recover the body of his officer, gave the command to fall back more rapidly. At length, just before they reached the bank where they had disembarked, the ammunition for the howitzers being exhausted, Frank requested permission to retreat still more rapidly, and get his guns on board the nearest vessel.
"That request is in perfect keeping with your conduct during the fight," returned Mr. Howe, sneeringly. "The plea of saving your battery is a very handy one; but if you are afraid to remain here with us, you may run as fast as you wish. I'd be ashamed to hold up my head after this, if I were in your place."
"I am not afraid to remain here, sir," answered Frank, with a good deal of spirit; "and if you say that I have acted the part of a coward during this fight, I defy you to prove the charge. The idea that I am afraid, because I wish to retreat in order to save my battery, is absurd. Run those guns along lively, lads."
Frank succeeded in getting his howitzers on board one of the tin-clads, which still lay alongside of the bank, without the loss of another man. A moment afterward the sailors came pouring down the bank. As soon as they were all on board, the vessels moved out into the stream, and commenced shelling the woods. While thus engaged, the Ticonderoga came down the river, and, after dropping her anchor, signaled for the officer in command of the expedition to repair on board. Mr. Howe at once put off in a boat to obey the order, while the vessel in which Frank had taken refuge ran alongside of the Ticonderoga, and as soon as the battery had been taken off, the men, covered with dust and blood, and their faces begrimed with powder, stood silently around the guns, while the remainder of the crew gathered on the opposite side of the deck, and regarded their comrades with sorrow depicted in every feature of their sun-burnt faces. Frank knew that the fight had been a most desperate one, and that he had lost many of his men; but he could scarcely believe his eyes, when he found that out of the forty brave fellows who had started out with him in the morning, but fifteen remained—more than half had been left dead on the field, or prisoners in the hands of the rebels.
In a scarcely audible voice he called the roll, and his emotion increased when, at almost every third name, some one answered:
"Not here, sir."
In a few moments the captain appeared on deck. The report of the commander of the expedition had, of course, been unfavorable, and the captain's face wore a look of trouble. Hastily running his eye over the line of dusty, bleeding men that stood before him, he said, in a low voice, as if talking to himself:
"Only fifteen left. I could ill afford to lose so many men. You may go below, lads. Doctor, see that the very best care is taken of the wounded."