"
As soon as the steward had taken him to the steerage, Mr. Pennant
made his report in full, even to the number and calibre of the guns at
the fort, and including the cure he had wrought upon the Confederate
soldier. Christy was amused at this last part of the narrative; but he
had no time to waste in conversation.
The screw of the Bronx was started again. Though the Russian was a pilot
over the bar, his services were not needed as such. The first cutter had
kept the range of the buildings on the island, and Mr. Flint had already
picked it up. The steamer proceeded at less than half speed, but the
tide was at its highest. By this time it was seven o'clock in the
morning, for a great deal of the time had been used up in moving the
cutter and the steamer. Breakfast had been served to all hands, and
Christy had fortified his stomach for a busy forenoon. As the Bronx
proceeded on her course, the lead going all the time, making not more
than two knots an hour, the report of a gun was heard from the fort.
"They are awake there," said Christy with a smile to the first
lieutenant, and both of them watched for the fall of the shot, which
struck the water at least a quarter of a mile ahead of the vessel. "Beat
to quarters, Mr. Flint.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275