“How many guns have you?” O’Neil asked suddenly. The boatswain’s mate had in silence steered after the launch ahead, urging Emmons time and again to encourage his men to speed the gasoline engine up to its limit. “We can’t be no use to them gunboats,” he added in explanation; “our job is to catch the fellows that set this here island on fire.” Phil withdrew his attention with difficulty from the terrible one-sided battle raging astern of them, to answer the sailor’s question. “There are two stacks[3] and a thousand rounds of ammunition. Can we catch them?” he questioned eagerly. “If we can’t, we can stop ’em with twelve rifles,” O’Neil replied grimly. “I don’t dare fire on the launch,” Phil cried. “If we can overhaul them, that’s another matter.” The spectacle now revealed to those on the launch was awe inspiring. The forts had developed into a blaze of fire, while all about the advancing gunboats shells struck incessantly. The sides of the small vessels had burst into flame as they fired their small guns at the distant enemy. The high vegetation on the island near them burned with ever-increasing rapidity, the flames mounting high in the air and lighting the surroundings as bright as dawn. The “Phœnix” now had entered the channel, and with her battery silent cut swiftly through the brightly lighted water. The air was shaken by the noise of shell and the shock of explosions. The flame of fire from the burning island formed a fiery veil, through which the eye could not penetrate, but by the increased roar of explosions and discharges, the lads felt confident that the monitors were now engaging the forts. Another and even greater danger suddenly confronted the allies. The breeze, which had been light, now had increased and was blowing the suffocating smoke toward the channel. In a short while as the fire gained headway the channel would be enshrouded in thick smoke through which it would be well-nigh impossible to see. If by a fatal chance a gunboat mistook the channel it would remain hard and fast aground and in the morning would be destroyed by the forts. The “Phœnix” was now close aboard, a wave under her forefoot showing her burst of speed. The air every minute became hotter and more stifling and those on the launch without protection would soon suffer from the scorching heat of the flames. A line whistled over the launch, while Commander Hughes’ cool voice directed: “Make it fast, and keep under our lee. We’ll protect you from the heat.” Quickly the tow-line was secured in the bow of the launch and those on board the smaller vessel were almost thrown from their feet as the launch was dragged forward by the tautening of the tow-rope. Thicker and thicker, and more stifling, became the smoke. The Americans wet their handkerchiefs, putting them over their mouths to enable them to breathe.