"No more
sounding; send the man below. We shall have from three to seven fathoms
of water till we have passed the fort."
The Bronx continued to dart ahead at her best speed, and no sound came
from the fort. It was only a question of minutes now before the steamer
reached a point inside of the island where she could accomplish her
mission by the capture of the Sphinx. The officers remained on deck, but
they were protected by the bulwarks, the masts, and especially under the
shelter of the top-gallant forecastle. Christy had earnestly warned the
second and third lieutenants not to expose themselves needlessly to the
musketry of the fort, and Mr. Flint was discreet enough to need no such
warning.
"Soldiers on the fort, sir!" shouted Vincent, when the Bronx was within
less than a quarter of a mile of the works.
Christy and the first lieutenant sprang from the shelter where they had
been waiting the passage of the fort, and rushed up the steps to the
bridge. The commander of the force on shore, with half a dozen men, was
at work on one of the guns on the barbette; but it was impossible to
make out what they were doing. Then there was a flash, a cloud of
smoke went up, and a shot crashed into the deck directly under the
pilot-house, tearing up the planks, and disappearing in the space below.
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