Down the hill they came, in every direction and without order, hotly followed by the rebels to the very edge of the descent. Then the pursuers paused, too cautious to meet the chance of volleys from Harrison’s Island, but throwing a plunging fire upon the retiring loyalists, and aiming ruthlessly at the hundreds trying to swim the rapid river channel. The tumult and agony of that headlong descent, the clamor and crowd along the shore, the rush into one wretched skiff, already over-laden with wounded men, which forced it beneath the surface and brought the horror of death by water upon men who had already so fairly faced the battle-field are beyond description. Who can depict the wild struggle with those turbid waters, and the desperate calmness with which each wretched soldier went down at last? Who can tell of those who, struck down by the fire from above, slipped in their own blood upon the clayey river bank; of those who wasted too feeble strength in swimming half way across the cruel stream; of the shouts for help where no help came. A few, more fiercely courageous than the rest, dragged the cannon to the edge of the hill and plunged them over, thus rendering them useless to the enemy. The colonels who had fought so steadily still refused to surrender, but guarded the retreat, so far as desperate courage could do it, to the end. Led by Coggswell and Lee, several organized companies charged up at their tormentors, once and again returning dangerous volleys. They kept the enemy at bay till long after nightfall closed upon the scene. All who could pass over to the island had escaped, and midnight was close upon them before the two colonels and the other field officers still on the shore saw that their duty was accomplished, and surrendered themselves and the remnant of their commands to the enemy.