“Man the one-pounder! Get the rifles, everybody!” he called, with the instinct of command.
As they tumbled aboard the crew heard the rat-tat-tat of the gun under Franklin’s hand, sweeping the field of white-shirted figures pressing forward, and soon a little shell from the one-pounder threw up dirt at their feet. The insurgents were too near their prize to be stopped yet.
“Keep cool, everybody, keep cool!” said the congressman, himself firing with the nice calculation of a man at a range.
The Americans did not realize that shots were still coming from the rear. They knew that the insurgents on the other side of the stream could not cross it, and that was enough. If the gun should jam again, all would be lost.
But it did not jam; and soon the insurgents, no longer able to stand the persistent accuracy of the machine, began to fall back, and finally ran in pell-mell flight, leaving their wounded behind.
Promptly Franklin whirled his gun round and began firing upon the first attacking party, which withdrew when it saw that it was unsupported by the other side.
When excitement no longer made their efforts futile, and one was not pushing against another, and with the screw properly directed to their assistance, the crew was very soon able to force the stranded Marietta back into the stream.
After the congressman had emptied the water out of his shoes and was once more seated, with nothing to do but to enjoy the scenery, he said to Franklin, in beaming gratitude:
“Well, young man, you’re quite a general!”
Franklin blushed. The remark did not make him think of his ambition. It gave him speech for another cause.