The chief engineer had
been directed to be ready to proceed, and the steam was hissing with a
merry music. The midship gun was of no service now, and Mr. Flint had
been directed to keep up a steady fire with the broadside guns at the
embrasures of the fort as soon as the Bronx was in range.
Again the steamer darted ahead at a speed which would soon carry her
beyond the reach of the musket ball of the soldiers. Christy still
remained upon the bridge, observing the fort and all that was done on
the deck of the Bronx. He directed his glass frequently at the barbette
of the fort; but the prudent commander of the garrison had evidently
concluded to confine his efforts to the casemates. At least one-fourth
of his men had been disabled.
"Open with the broadside guns, Mr. Flint!" called Christy, as the Bronx
came abreast of the works.
As he spoke, Boxie dropped in his place at the wheel, and Vincent
grasped the spokes. The blood was streaming down the face of the old
man, and he did not move after he fell. Two sailors bore him below; but
the surgeon promptly declared that he was dead.
The rattle of musketry became quite sharp, and the bullets were
penetrating the bulwarks. Two had been wounded at one of the guns, and
carried below.
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