United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Blockades -- Fiction
"Pull for your lives, my men!" cried James Playfair, urging on the
sailors, "those gun-shots cleared my route. The _Dolphin_ is eight
hundred yards ahead of us. Stop! I hear the bell on board. Hurrah,
there it is again! Twenty pounds for you if we are back in five
minutes!"
The boat skimmed over the waves under the sailors' powerful oars. A
cannon boomed in the direction of the town. Crockston heard a ball whiz
past them.
The bell on the _Dolphin_ was ringing loudly. A few more strokes and
the boat was alongside. A few more seconds and Jenny fell into her
father's arms.
The gig was immediately raised, and James Playfair sprang on to the
poop.
"Is the steam up, Mr. Mathew?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Have the moorings cut at once."
A few minutes later the two screws carried the steamer towards the
principal channel, away from Fort Sumter.
"Mr. Mathew," said James, "we must not think of taking the Sullivan
Island channel; we should run directly under the Confederate guns. Let
us go as near as possible to the right side of the harbour out of range
of the Federal batteries. Have you a safe man at the helm?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Have the lanterns and the fires on deck extinguished; there is a great
deal too much light, but we cannot help the reflection from the
engine-rooms."
During this conversation the _Dolphin_ was going at a great speed; but
in altering her course to keep to the right side of the Charleston
Harbour she was obliged to enter a channel which took her for a moment
near Fort Sumter; and when scarcely half a mile off all the guns
bearing on her were discharged at the same time, and a shower of shot
and shell passed in front of the _Dolphin_ with a thundering report.
"Too soon, stupids," cried James Playfair, with a burst of laughter.
"Make haste, make haste, Mr. Engineer! We shall get between two fires."
The stokers fed the furnaces, and the _Dolphin_ trembled all over with
the effort of the engine as if she was on the point of exploding.
At this moment a second report was heard, and another shower of balls
whizzed behind the _Dolphin_.
"Too late, stupids," cried the young Captain, with a regular roar.
Then Crockston, who was standing on the poop, cried, "That's one
passed. A few minutes more, and we shall have done with the Rebs."
"Then do you think we have nothing more to fear from Fort Sumter?"
asked James.
"Nothing at all, but everything from Fort Moultrie, at the end of
Sullivan Island; but they will only get a chance at us for half a
minute, and then they must choose their time well, and shoot straight
if they want to reach us. We are getting near."
"Right; the position of Fort Moultrie will allow us to go straight for
the principal channel. Fire away then, fire away!"
At the same moment, and as if in obedience to James Playfair, the fort
was illuminated by a triple line of lightning. A frightful crash was
heard; then a crackling sound on board the steamer.
"Touched this time!" exclaimed Crockston.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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