Tim and his boys moved forward again, this time so fast that they caught a gun crew off its guard. Tim dropped behind a crescent-shaped drift of sand, and edging forward, found himself staring straight into the muzzle of a cannon--a parrot rifle not fifty yards beyond. Five of the gun crew made themselves scarce, but two of the braver ones started to empty their powder barrels. One of the men saw Tim and grabbed for a rifle, but Tim brought up his pistol and fired. The Rebel winced and grabbed his shoulder, dropping to the sand as the other man scurried away. The fleeing man paused in the cover of a little valley and brought up his rifle. Corporal Steele lay close to Tim, his rifle cradled easily in his hands. He squeezed the trigger and the man pitched forward and lay still on the sand. Then one of Steele’s hands left his rifle. He reached into a hollow in the sand and brought out a speckled sea-gull egg. Steele slipped the egg into his cartridge box and both men stood up and moved toward the gun. Tim spoke to the man he had shot. “You hurt bad?” Blood had soaked through the man’s gray blouse. There were patience and sadness in his face. “The war is finished for me now,” he said. Tim propped the man against the cannon and took up the chase again. The sun traveled across the hard blue sky as the Yankees moved along the shore, taking gun after gun and turning them on men who had manned them minutes before. About midday Tim paused with his men to drink from his canteen and eat some hardtack and a ration of pork. As the Yankees closed on Wagner there was token resistance, but it was clear that the Rebels would make their stand inside the fort. By late afternoon the attackers had traversed the ridge and the last of the coastal guns was theirs. Tim watched Kautz as Red and his men swung a big seacoast howitzer around and discharged a shell that burst above the heads of the retreating cannoneers. The advance was halted and Tim settled down for a rest. Captain Kautz sat down close by. From where they rested, part of the fort could be seen--a great sculptured mound of earth and sand. Kautz pointed to a bastion close to the sea, then motioned to the left. “The other salient is just out of sight behind those little trees. We’re told the fort holds three hundred men. The parapets are bristling with artillery.” As if to accent what he had said, a shell from the fort arched high across the sky and exploded short of its mark. The fire from the fort was fitful now. The enemy was saving its fury for the Yankee assault. Kautz spoke again. “We’ll launch our attack at low tide. Just now the tide is high. The strip of sand between the tidal creek and the sea wouldn’t hold a company, much less a regiment.” Ships of the Federal Navy lay in a flat calm, just out of range of the Confederate shore batteries. The masts of the ships of the coastal blockade could be seen in the distance. “Looks as if we’ll have Naval support,” Tim said.