hip
to keep the line of retreat open; and Fred's neglect had deprived them of
all means of retiring from the scene of action. The only alternative was
to fight their way through, and find safety in success.

To Tom's reply, that the party were Massachusetts soldiers, the rebel who
had acted as spokesman for the crew, uttered a volley of oaths, expressive
of his indignation and disgust at the sudden check which had been given to
their prosperous voyage.

"Surrender!" repeated Tom, in energetic tones.

Two of the rebels at the stern discharged their pistols in answer to the
summons--a piece of impudence which our Massachusetts soldiers could not
tolerate; and they returned the fire. The secessionists evidently carried
revolvers; and a turn of the barrel enabled them to fire a second volley,
which the soldiers were unable to do, for they had no time to load their
guns.

"O!" groaned Fred, as he sunk down upon the half-deck. "I'm hit."

"We can't stand this, Hapgood," said Tom, fiercely, as he leaped into the
midst of the party in the standing room. "Let's give them the bayonet."

"Give it to 'em, Tom!" replied the veteran, as he placed himself by the
side of his young companion.

"Will you surrender?" demanded Tom, as he thrust vigorously with his
bayonet.

"We surrender," replied one of the men; but it was not the one who had
spoken before, for he had dropped off his seat upon the bottom of the
boat.

"Give up your pistols, then," added Hapgood. "You look out for the boat,
Tom, and I will take care of these fellows."

Tom sprang to the position which had been occupied by the spokesman of the
party, and grasping the foresheet and the tiller of the boat, he soon
brought her up to the wind. Seating himself in the stern, he assumed the
management of the schooner, while Hapgood busied himself in taking the
pistols from the hands of the rebels, and exploring their pockets, in
search of other dangerous weapons.

"How are you, Fred?" shouted Tom, when the pressing business of the moment
had been disposed of. "Are you much hurt?"

"I'm afraid my time's most up," replied he, faintly.

"Where are you hit?"

"In the face; the ball went through my head, I suppose," he added, in
tones that were hardly audible, in the warring of the December blast.

"Keep up a good heart, Fred, and we will soon be ashore. Have you got an
easy place?"

"No, the water dashes over me."

"Can't you move him aft, Hapgood?"

"Pretty so