"Fire!" cried Fernando, without moving from his position. Immediately the thirty-two pounder and four smaller guns belched forth fire and thunder. Fernando watched the effect through the glass. The thirty-two went wild, and the shots from the smaller pieces fell short. He turned and gave some instructions to the gunners, while a shell came screaming over his head and burst a short distance away, killing one of the marines. "Fernando, there ain't no need of you standing up there!" cried Sukey. "You ain't in the game, till we get near enough to use rifles." "Divil a bit will the blackguards iver come near enough for that," cried Terrence, boldly mounting the breastwork. "Captain, lave me have a squint through yer glass," and Terrence, assuming a liberty which he only could, took the glass from his hand. The screaming shell and whistling shot continued to come from the _Xenophon_. "Faith, thim bees buzz nicely round a fellow's ears," added Terrence. Fernando seized his glass, when the thirty-two was again sighted and fixed it on the ship. As the heavy boom shook the earth, he saw a great splash of water twelve feet from the bow. "Let some one else train the gun," he cried. "You miss the mark." All appeals to Fernando to come down from his dangerous position were unavailing. His anxiety to pierce the _Xenophon_ with the thirty-two kept him on the parapet directing the gunners, while balls and shells shrieked about him. Job tried three shots; but only one did any injury, and that was some insignificant damage to the rigging. Fernando saw at once their disadvantage. "Oh, if we only had one experienced gunner, he would drive the ship from the harbor," he thought. Lieutenant Willard tried three or four shots, and one struck the bow. With glass in hand, Fernando remained on the earthworks, watching the effect of their balls and giving orders to the gunners, while balls and shells flew screaming around him. One shell exploded near the embrasure of one of the smaller guns killing one and wounding four. As yet, they had not touched one of the enemy, and the young commandant was chagrined, anxious and annoyed. He lost his temper and raved at the gunners, who were doing their best. They lacked science. His brave riflemen stood under the earthworks, grasping their guns which were useless now, while they lamented that the Britons were not in range. Officers, citizens and even privates implored Fernando to come down. A shell exploded in the air, and a piece grazed his shoulder, yet he kept his place on the rampart. Terrence Malone, who could see no reason for courting death, had sought shelter behind a gun carriage. Fernando's anxiety and mortification increased as he witnessed the repeated failures of his gunners to hull the _Xenophon_. Amid smoke, dust and whizzing missiles, he kept his post. The thunder of guns, the whizzing balls, and shrieking shells were unheard in his great anxiety to defeat the British.