About three hundred of these vessels now lay, all crowded together, in one dense mob, at Whitehaven. The tide was out. They lay completely helpless, clear of water, and grounded. They were sooty in hue. Their black yards were deeply canted, like spears, to avoid collision. The three hundred grimy hulls lay wallowing in the mud, like a herd of hippopotami asleep in the alluvium of the Nile. Their sailless, raking masts, and canted yards, resembled a forest of fish-spears thrust into those same hippopotamus hides. Partly flanking one side of the grounded fleet was a fort, whose batteries were raised from the beach. On a little strip of this beach, at the base of the fort, lay a number of small rusty guns, dismounted, heaped together in disorder, as a litter of dogs. Above them projected the mounted cannon. Paul landed in his own boat at the foot of this fort. He dispatched the other boat to the north side of the haven, with orders to fire the shipping there. Leaving two men at the beach, he then proceeded to get possession of the fort. “Hold on to the bucket, and give me your shoulder,” said he to Israel. Using Israel for a ladder, in a trice he scaled the wall. The bucket and the men followed. He led the way softly to the guard-house, burst in, and bound the sentinels in their sleep. Then arranging his force, ordered four men to spike the cannon there. “Now, Israel, your bucket, and follow me to the other fort.” The two went alone about a quarter of a mile. “Captain Paul,” said Israel, on the way, “can we two manage the sentinels?” “There are none in the fort we go to.” “You know all about the place, Captain?” “Pretty well informed on that subject, I believe. Come along. Yes, lad, I am tolerably well acquainted with Whitehaven. And this morning intend that Whitehaven shall have a slight inkling of _me_. Come on. Here we are.” Scaling the walls, the two involuntarily stood for an instant gazing upon the scene. The gray light of the dawn showed the crowded houses and thronged ships with a haggard distinctness. “Spike and hammer, lad;—so,—now follow me along, as I go, and give me a spike for every cannon. I’ll tongue-tie the thunderers. Speak no more!” and he spiked the first gun. “Be a mute,” and he spiked the second. “Dumbfounder thee,” and he spiked the third. And so, on, and on, and on, Israel following him with the bucket, like a footman, or some charitable gentleman with a basket of alms. “There, it is done. D’ye see the fire yet, lad, from the south? I don’t.” “Not a spark, Captain. But day-sparks come on in the east.” “Forked flames into the hounds! What are they about? Quick, let us back to the first fort; perhaps something has happened, and they are there.”