fire became hotter.

The bowman of the pinnace was seen to relax his efforts, but still he
pulled on, a red stream issuing from his breast showed that he had been
hit; presently the oar slipped from his hands, and he sank down into the
bottom of the boat. A marine immediately took his place. Directly
afterwards another man was hit. Not a groan escaped him. Grasping his
oar he attempted to make another stroke, but his eyes gazed wildly,
blood issued from his mouth, the oar escaped from his hands, and he fell
back on the thwart a lifeless corpse. Another man sprang to his place
and with little ceremony, shoving the body aside, pulled lustily away.
The crews of the other boats were treated in the same manner. Nothing
daunted, other men took the places of those who were wounded; the gigs
offering a smaller mark were less frequently hit, but the white
splinters which flew from their gunwales and oars showed that the
bullets of the enemy had found them out; one of the captain's crew was
hit, and directly afterwards Murray had another man hurt. It was a
severe trial for the courage and patience of all, for eager as they were
to get at the foe, they could do nothing but sit still and be fired at.

Short as the distance was, an hour passed by before they reached the
fort. At length the leading gigs got up to it. As they did so the
river appeared to decrease in width, while the stream, consequently, ran
still faster, and the fire became even hotter than before. The gigs and
pinnace, which kept well up with them, had now got close to the fort,
the stockades rising on the projecting point, high above their heads.
The marines, in the last-mentioned boat, took aim at any of the enemy
who were seen for a moment on the fortifications, while the soldiers in
the other boats did their best to clear the banks of their persevering
foes. Still, however, they were exposed to a galling fire from all
directions; from foes on the starboard hand, and other concealed enemies
on the bows and quarter. Several more men were hit, but as long as they
could pull a stroke they refused to quit their oars. The boats were
almost riddled with shot; the gigs were struck several times between
wind and water, the holes being filled up with handkerchiefs, or
whatever first came to hand. Archy Gordon was employed in stopping one
with his handkerchief, when Murray, to his dismay, saw him fall forward;
steering with one hand he lifted the lad up with