The tide was going out, and the river low: that, with the heavy laden
boat, made their progress lingering; a fact which distressed them all,
as they knew the night to be almost spent, and that the shores were so
lined with batteries, open and masked, and the country about so scoured
by rebels, as to make it almost sure death to them if they were not
beyond the lines before the morning broke.
The water was steadily and perceptibly ebbing,--the rowing growing more
and more insecure,--the danger becoming imminent.
"Ease her off, there! ease her off!" cried the Captain,--as a harsh,
gravelly sound smote on his ear, and at the same moment a shot whizzed
past them, showing that they were discovered,--"ease her off, there! or
we're stuck!"
The warning came too late,--indeed, could not have been obeyed, had it
come earlier. The boat struck; her bottom grating hard on the wet sand.
"Great God! she's on a bar," cried Coolidge, "and the tide's running
out, fast."
"Yes, and them damned rebs are safe enough from _our_ fire," said one of
the men.
A few scattering shot fell about them.
"They're going to make their mark on us, anyway," put in another.
"And we can't send 'em anything in return, blast 'em!" growled a third.
"That's the worst of it," broke out a fourth, "to be shot at like a rat
in a hole."
All said in a breath, and the balls by this time falling thick and
fast,--a fiery, awful rain of death.
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