fterward that any such order had been given.

All being ready, we started for the shore. Before landing, I had a long
rope attached to the bow of our boat and fastened to the stern of the
second cutter. When we got on shore, the second cutter towed our boat
just clear of the surf, ready for us to get into in a hurry, with the
bow headed towards the sea. George Brinsmaid had the keg to carry, and
was placed in the centre of the party. Then we started for the sand
dunes, intending to carry desolation and dismay into the Southern
Confederacy.

When we got to the sand dunes, indications pointed strongly to the fact
that we had got into a bad scrape. The sand was covered with a large
number of horse tracks, as if a whole regiment of horses had been
tramping around. I had not much time to take in the situation, as the
enemy made a charge between us and the boats. They came in double file;
the left file came for us, the right going for the boats. I looked at
the brig, expecting to see the guns shelling the rebs on the open, but,
much to my surprise, the captain had allowed the brig to swing around
stern to shore, and not a gun could be brought to bear on the enemy.

I told the men to get behind the dunes and fire only at the enemy
nearest to them. We were scattered a few feet apart so as not to be in a
compact body. The first man came into view just in front of me. He was
riding to the top of the dune. Knowing that the rifle would carry high
at such a short distance, I aimed low at his breast. The bullet struck
him square in the forehead and the horse gave a jump and threw him off,
the body rolling down the steep dune to our feet. That checked the enemy
for a few seconds, as they saw that it would be safer to attack us
dismounted. For about five minutes that was a warm place. Buckshot,
bullets, and sand were flying in all directions. The party attacking the
boat were unsuccessful, so they circled around and got in our rear. Then
we were completely surrounded and had to surrender. Two of the
Confederates were killed and several wounded, and besides, they lost
three horses. On our side two were killed, and nearly every one of us
wounded. After we had surrendered, James Pinkham was lying face down on
the ground, a bullet having passed through both of his hips, and,
because he could not get up when ordered to do so, a rebel lieutenant
shot him in the back with his revolver. A young Irishman by the name of
Tobin, belonging to our