Christy went forward to set the officers at work in picking up the two
prizes, and as he stopped to look down into the engine room, he felt
his cap knocked off his head, and heard the whizzing of a bullet
unpleasantly near his ears. He picked up his cap, and found a bullet
hole through the top of it. If it had gone an inch or two lower, Mr.
Flint would have succeeded to the command of the expedition without any
ceremonies. Though there was no reason for it, this incident seemed to
provoke him, for it assured him that he could not pick up his prizes
without exposing his men to this nasty firing for some time longer.
It was now light enough for him to make out the situation of the
breastwork of cotton, and he saw that it was a long and narrow pile,
probably near a siding of the railroad where the bales had been unloaded
from the cars. Another glance at the surroundings in regard to the point
enabled him to make up his mind what to do, and he did not lose a moment
in putting his plan into execution. The firing of shot and shrapnel at
the cotton pile seemed to produce no adequate effect, and he ordered
Flint to cease his operations.
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