"We must end this thing," said Somers, as a shot from the fort whizzed over his head.
"Yes, sir," replied the first lieutenant. "We can hardly pass that battery."
"Try the hundred pounder."
When the pivot gun was ready, the Firefly swung round, and the heavy piece roared out its salutation to the blockade runner. It was aimed by Tom Longstone, and the bolt struck the Ben Ledi square in the stern, breaking in her counter, and leaving her helpless on the water. The Firefly stopped her wheels. A shot from the fort crushed through her smoke-stack.
The chase, completely disabled, drifted on the beach and grounded, under the guns of the battery. The Firefly now poured shell into her from every gun that could be brought to bear. In a few moments a sheet of flame rose from her, and lighted up the channel for miles around, clearly revealing to the gunners in the fort the exact position of Somers's vessel.
The work had been accomplished, the Ben Ledi had been destroyed, and the Firefly hastened to escape from her dangerous locality. In coming about she poured a parting broadside into the burning steamer. As she swung round, a hail from the water was heard, and a boat containing several men was discovered. It had been carried by the tide away from the beach. The occupants were taken on board, though one of them was wounded and utterly helpless. They had no oars, and were in danger of being carried out to sea.
"Here's the cap'n; he was hit by a piece of a shell," said one of the men.
"Who is he?" asked Somers.
"Cap'n Pillgrim."
The sufferer was taken down into the ward-room, and the surgeon began to examine him as the Firefly steamed down the channel under a shower of shot and shell from the battery.