A large body of Indians had collected on an island to the west of the channel near to which the boat must pass, and as it reached this point was rapidly drifting toward the bar on the island’s edge. Suddenly the trees and rocks reverberated with blood-curdling war-whoops and a volley of bullets rained upon the deck, wounding a negro named Peter so desperately that he afterward died. The crew instantly sought shelter by lying flat below the water line, because the bullets penetrated the bulwarks. The second volley resulted in the instant death of an American named Stewart, who had risen to return the first fire through a loophole. The exposure causing a target to be made of his head, he fell back dead, his finger still upon the trigger of his undischarged gun. No further attempt was made to return the Indians’ second volley, and they, encouraged by this non-resistance, rushed to their canoes with intent to board. The men who had remained flat recovered in a measure from their panic and the boarders were received with a disastrous fire and repulsed. One canoe in particular was severely received, two of its crew being killed, and in the death struggle overturned, compelling the others to swim for their lives. Presently a voice in the Sac tongue hailed the boat, demanding to know if the crew were English. Beauchamp, who was a half-breed Sac, answered in the affirmative. “Then,” replied the querist, “come on shore and we will do you no harm, for we are your brethren, the Sacs.” “Dog,” retorted Beauchamp, “no Sac would attack us thus cowardly. If you want us on shore, you must come and fetch us.”