ost viewless flight. Your watch ticks
fifteen seconds before you hear from it. You see a puff of smoke, a
cloud of sand thrown up in the fort, and then hear the explosion. The
commanders of the other boats remember the instructions,--"Do just as I
do!"--and from each vessel a shell is thrown. All fall within the fort,
or in the encampment beyond, which is in sight. You can see the tents,
the log-huts, the tall flagstaff. The fort accepts the challenge, and
instantly the twelve guns which are in position to sweep the river open
upon the advancing boats. The shot and shell plough furrows in the
stream, and throw columns of water high in air.

Another round from the fleet. Another from the fort. The air is calm,
and the thunder of the cannonade rolls along the valley, reverberating
from hill to hill. Louder and deeper and heavier is the booming, till it
becomes almost an unbroken peal.

There is a commotion in the Rebel encampment. Men run to and fro. They
curl down behind the stumps and the fallen trees, to avoid the shot.
Their huts are blown to pieces by the shells. You see the logs tossed
like straws into the air. Their tents are torn into paper-rags. The
hissing shells sink deep into the earth, and then there are sudden
upheavals of sand, with smoke and flames, as if volcanoes were bursting
forth. The parapet is cut through. Sand-bags are knocked about. The air
is full of strange, hideous, mysterious, terrifying noises.

There are seven or eight thousand Rebel soldiers in the rifle-pits
and behind the breastworks of the encampment in line of battle. They
are terror-stricken. Officers and men alike lose all self-control.
They run to escape the fearful storm. They leave arms, ammunition,
tents, blankets, trunks, clothes, books, letters, papers,
pictures,--everything. They pour out of the intrenchments into the road
leading to Dover, a motley rabble. A small steamboat lies in the creek
above the fort. Some rush on board and steam up river with the utmost
speed. Others, in their haste and fear, plunge into the creek and sink
to rise no more. All fly except a brave little band in the fort.

The gunboats move straight on, slowly and steadily. Their fire is
regular and deliberate. Every shot goes into the fort. The gunners are
blinded and smothered by clouds of sand. The gun-carriages are crushed,
splintered, and overturned. Men are cut to pieces. Something unseen
tears them like a thunderbolt. The fort is full of explosi