"Open fire on the wharf, and then load with the shrapnel," added
Christy.
The two guns, which had been placed in proper position for use on the
top-gallant forecastle, were aimed by Flint himself, and discharged. The
report shook the steamer, and Christy, who retained his position on the
quarter deck, heard a scream of terror, coming from a female, issue from
the companion way, at the head of which a seaman had been placed as a
sentinel over the officers below.
"What was that, Neal?" asked the commander of the expedition.
"It was the scream of a lady, sir, and that is all I know about it,"
replied the man. "I haven't seen any lady, sir, and I think she must
have been asleep so far. The captain tried to come on deck a while ago,
but I sent him back, sir."
By this time the two field pieces had been loaded again, and they were
discharged. Christy watched the effect, and he had the pleasure of
seeing the whole troop on the wharf retire behind the great pile of
bales of cotton. A random fire was kept up from this defence, but the
soldiers were safe behind their impenetrable breastwork. Flint continued
to fire into it.
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