The other boats swarmed in to shore and the soldiers started jumping out, holding their rifles high and dry. Sergeant Fitch and the other boys lay close to Tim, their faces streaming and their chests heaving. Tim fingered his pistol. “A couple more seconds, then we go.” He raised his hand. “Three yards apart. Keep me in sight. Move in low and give them a lively target.” He moved fast to the crest of the nearest dune. The first line of rifle pits had been deserted. The enemy camp was deserted too. It was strewn with boots, canteens and other odds and ends. A cooking fire smoldered on the sand. Tim and his boys moved past the tents. The Rebel garrison must have been small. A cannon on the right was standing alone. Red and a squad of his men moved in to swing it around. Tim ran forward to the second dune and crouched to see what lay beyond. There was a line of rifle pits a hundred yards or so away. Men peered anxiously over the sides. Tim signaled to his men. Rising up in full view of the pits, he gave a yell and ran a zigzag course, with Sergeant Fitch and Steele by his side. The other men yelled and followed close on their heels. Neither Yankees nor Rebels stopped to fire. The Rebels, outnumbered as they were, just jumped the pits and scurried for the rear. One of the Rebels was very young. With youthful awkwardness he was trying all at once to put on his shirt, hold his blouse and rifle, and run for his life. As he ran his shirt streamed out behind. He dropped his rifle and when he stopped to pick it up he dropped his blouse. When the boy’s face turned toward his pursuers Tim raised his pistol as if to shoot. The boy deliberately picked up his blouse and his rifle and turned his back; he moved a few steps closer to the shelter of a dune. Tim signaled for his men to hold their fire. He lowered his pistol. They watched the lad as he cut loose and sprinted like a rabbit for the safety of the dune, his shirt still clinging to one of his arms and streaming out behind. Tim looked back. The Federal force was moving forward in a solid line. He scrambled up a knob of sand. Beyond him, over a waste of dunes, a Rebel battery was just about to be deserted. Behind the cannon the ground was dotted with soldiers in full retreat. The attackers paused to catch their breaths. Off to the right Red had taken prisoners. He was giving orders to three of his men who were acting as guards. He gestured and pointed toward the rear, then turned his back on his prisoners, looking over the ground ahead.