The two midshipmen seized bayonets from the guns of those fallen and began to hack away at the barbed wire fence in their rear. Others now joined them, while the most part of the sailors threw themselves upon the ground and continued their fire at the flitting figures, only seldom and then dimly visible within the impenetrable bush, on their front and flank. Lieutenant Tupper was already severely wounded, but he saw that to save his men a retreat was urgently necessary. To remain there in the open was useless and would prove costly if not destructive. The sailors retreated slowly through the places in the fence, cut laboriously with the bayonets. “The gun must be abandoned, Childers,” Lieutenant Morrison exclaimed in despair, after they had dragged it through the torn fence and Childers had made a last heroic effort to disassemble the breech mechanism in order to locate and repair the defect. The rebel natives perceiving the retreat threw caution to the winds and now showed themselves in a savage swarm. The sailors made a desperate stand, and at such close range the execution among their delirious enemies was great; but nothing could stop their mad rush. Phil clung to his wounded lieutenant on one side, while Patterson supported him on the other. Cries for mercy could be heard behind them, where a wounded sailor was discovered by the eager savages. Then triumphant yells and a scream of terror told the horrible story of the poor fellow’s end. “Leave me,” Lieutenant Morrison begged them. “Save yourselves.” The natives were almost within reach when Lieutenant Morrison’s body suddenly sank to the ground. A second bullet had reached a vital spot. Phil stopped. Patterson was behind him. He had emptied his revolver with telling effect in holding the enemy at bay in an endeavor to cover the retreat of his stricken friend. Phil now sprang to the ensign’s aid and as he did so he could have cried out for joy, for there was O’Neil at his side, cool and collected, among the terrible dangers, firing his rifle from its magazine. Each shot carried a message of death. “Run, both of you,” the sailor cried out to them. Phil saw Patterson reel, and caught him in his arms. The lad turned the ensign toward him and a great sob of anguish escaped his lips as he saw the death pallor already on the stricken officer’s face. The next moment the lifeless body fell at his feet, and almost touching the lifeless body of the friend for whom he had heroically but fruitlessly given his young life. Turning upon the enemy, who had now hesitated in their advance in face of such unexpected resistance, Phil fired his revolver until empty. Then a crash and a mighty explosion almost threw him to the ground.