At dark the firing ceased altogether; and after supper—the only cooked meal they had had during the day—the officers assembled on deck to enjoy the cool breeze, for the heat below had been almost intolerable. It was late when they retired, but it is needless to say that those who had rooms on the quarter-deck slept in the mess-rooms.
The next morning, just as every one had expected, the firing was again renewed by the rebels in the battery, and it was at once answered by some of the younger officers of the ship, who cracked away, whether an enemy was in sight or not. Frank had not been able to get the thought of that rebel sharp-shooter out of his mind. The audacity he had displayed in taking up a position so close to the vessel, and the skill with which he handled his rifle, excited his admiration, and he determined that, should he again take up the same position, he would renew his attempt to dislodge him. He, however, took no part in the fight until he came off watch at noon. He then provided himself with a rifle, and, after considerable trouble, succeeded in getting into the wheel-house, the lower part of which, being built of thick timbers, would easily resist a bullet, and here he settled down, determined to fight his enemy as long as he had a charge of powder left.
The rebel was in his old position, concealed as usual, and, as the cabin ports had been closed, he was directing his fire toward the pilot-house. He was, of course, not aware that Frank had changed his base of operations; but he did not long remain ignorant of the fact, for the latter commenced the fight without ceremony.
As nearly every officer on board the vessel was engaged in fighting the rebels, the one in question could not determine whence the shot came. He drew back for a moment, and then thrust his head carefully out, to reconnoiter. Frank, who could fire seven shots without stopping to reload, was ready for him, and another bullet sped toward the mark, but, as usual, with no more effect than throwing up a cloud of dust. This time, however, the rebel saw where it came from, and a moment afterward a ball was buried in the thick timbers, scarcely an inch from the place where Frank was cautiously looking out, watching the motions of his rival.
From his new position, Frank found that the rebel, after he had fired his gun, was obliged to turn over on his back to reload, and he determined that, if he could not dislodge him, he would at least put it out of his power to do any further mischief. So, when the rebel exposed his arm, as he was in the act of ramming down the charge, he fired at him again. The latter, ignorant of the fact that his opponent had a seven-shooter, now redoubled his efforts, and made all haste to reload his gun; but again did a bullet strike in the bank close beside him, and cover him with a shower of dust. This seemed to puzzle the rebel, for he raised his head and gazed intently toward the place where his enemy was concealed. That move was fatal to him. Scarcely three inches of his head was exposed; but the bullet went straight to the mark—the rebel rolled down the bank, and the deadly rifle fell from his hands.