. Pennant, you will come to my cabin and make your
report. Bring Uncle Job with you."

As soon as he reached the cabin, Christy brought from his stateroom
twenty dollars in gold, which he presented to the old negro, who
accepted the gift with many thanks.

"Dave," called the captain.

"Here, sir," replied the steward, coming into the cabin and gazing with
astonishment at the negro. "This man has done a good work; take care of
him, give him a good breakfast, and see that no one insults him."

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."

The strength of the Bronx was mainly in her heavy midship gun. The
commander had ascertained the range of the twenty-four pounder barbette
guns of the fort, and made his calculations accordingly. He could batter
down the masonry of the works at his leisure, if he chose to waste his
time and ammunition in that way; but the Confederates proposed to
abandon the fort, and it would not pay to destroy it.

"Fourteen and a half feet!" shouted the leadsman.

"That will do, Mr. Flint; stop her, and let go the anchor. Get out a
spring astern and make it fast to that buoy," said the commander.

In ten minutes more the Bronx quivered under the discharge of the great
midship gun, and a cloud of smoke rose above h