But the end was fast approaching. The thinning Union forces were assailed by four times their number. From every side death stormed upon their unsheltered bodies. Half their line officers were wounded or killed. The undaunted leaders were also falling. Ward, Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fifteenth, had received a frightful wound; Coggswell was shot through the wrist; Lee, Devens, Harvey and Stewart were still fighting sadly and in vain; a ball shattered Wistar’s sword arm—he dropped the weapon, picked it up with his left hand, and General Baker himself restored it to the scabbard. The shouting enemy began to break from the wood and through the smoke upon the confused lines. The crisis had come. There was some hand-to-hand fighting; a few of the gray-coats got entangled with the Federal forces, who took a prisoner and passed him to the rear; the enemy took a dozen, and made charge after charge. Just then a body of men appeared, pressing down from the left. The General ordered the troops around him to stand firm, and cried, “Who are those men?” “Confederate troops!” was the reply; and they rushed almost within bayonet distance. One of them drew a revolver, came close to Baker, and fired four balls at the General, every one of which took effect, and a glorious soul fled through their ghastly openings. Captain Beiral seized the slayer by the throat, and blew out his brains—the hero and the traitor falling within the same minute, and face to face. In a second the enemy swarmed over the spot. “For God’s sake, boys,” cried Adjutant Harvey, in his hot English way, “are you going to let them have the General’s body!” An angry howl was the answer, and a dozen charged, with set teeth and bayonets fixed, upon the rebels, who recoiled from the shock, and surrendered their priceless trophy. The body of this thrice heroic man was passed down the bluff, and safely conveyed to the island. But now the Union lines were hopelessly disordered. The rebels came through both the field and woods in final force. Coggswell saw that the day was lost, and that the desperate, impossible retreat had come. So he ordered his scattered men to retire for embarkation, and the field was given up to the foe. Large numbers of the Union troops had anticipated the order to retreat; for an hour the shore had been lined with stragglers and wearied men. Still, the reinforcing business had not ceased from the island, and during the fiercest of the action the two boats, which were bringing away the dead and wounded, returned from each trip laden with the residue of the Tammany and Massachusetts regiments. The life-boat proved a death-boat, for it swamped, from some cause, while conveying to the battle-field the last of the Tammany companies. [Illustration: DEATH OF COLONEL BAKER. ]