It took but a moment for him to find the shell, for he had seen it roll from the other's hand.
"That's it," he exclaimed, as he picked it up. "I'd know it in a minute by its shape and weight. Rather light for a cannon ball."
But he did not wait to examine it there. There would be time enough for that when he reached the flagship.
With a parting look at his unconscious antagonist he started away.
"I'm sorry, my dear sir," he exclaimed, sarcastically, as he looked back on reaching the top of the rampart. "You seemed so attached to this shell, I'd like to take you along with it. But as I can only take one at a time, I'll content myself with this."
Then he turned his back upon the scene of his contest, and started for his boat as expeditiously as due caution would allow.
He met with no obstacle in the way, and found the boat just as he had left it. He threw the shell in the stern, and with a feeling of exultation sprang in after it and seized the oars.
A few steady strokes and he was on the way toward the flagship. But there had been a change in those quiet waters while he was on the land.
He had not gone many boat lengths from shore before he discovered looming up before him a slowly moving steamer. It was apparently hugging the coast and proceeding with as little noise as possible.
"A boat trying to run the blockade!" exclaimed Clif, as he backed water and rested upon his oars. "She'll succeed, too, unless one of our ships should happen to discover her with its searchlight."