Burnside paced the deck of the Spaulding, keeping an eye on the fort, watching the enemy's shots, and looking impatiently for the arrival of the transports. At length they came crowding through the inlet, dropping their anchors in the sound just out of range of the fort. Seen from the gunboats, they were a sight not less astonishing than that which they themselves were coming to witness. Troops, eagerly watching the conflict, crowded the decks and hung upon the rigging like swarms of bees. Ropes, masts, and yards were festooned with the heavy, clinging clusters, which seemed ready to part and fall with their own weight. The effect of the picture was enhanced by the mellow brilliancy of the afternoon sky, against which the dark masses were clearly defined, and by the perfect tranquility of the water, like a sea of glass mirroring the ships and their loaded spars. The gunboats sent to the ships the roar of their artillery, and the ships sent back the chorus of thousands of cheering voices for every well-aimed shot. Frank was in the rigging of the schooner, watching the fight, making drawings to send to his mother, and talking with his comrades, among whom Sinjin's glass passed from hand to hand. "I tell ye, boys!" remarks Seth Tucket, "this is a leetle ahead of any game of bluff ever I took a hand in! The battery is about used up. S'pose you look at your--my--our watch, Frank, and see how often the darned rebels fire." "Once in about ten minutes now," Frank informs him. "O! did you see that shell burst? Right over one of our gunboats!" "She's aground," says Gray, with the glass. "She can neither use her guns nor get off! A little tug is going to help her." "Bully for the tug!" says Jack Winch. "Hurrah! hurrah!" ring the deafening plaudits from the ships. "What is it?" is eagerly asked. "The battery's flag-staff is shot away!" shouts Frank at the top of his voice. "Hooray!" "Some think the flag has been hauled down, to surrender the fort, but it's a mistake," declares Gray. "See! up it goes again on a piece of the pole! And the guns are at it again." "Where's Burnside?" asks some one. And Tucket quotes,-- "'O, where was Roderick then? One blast upon his bugle horn were worth a thousand men!'" "He is sending off a boat to the shore yonder, to look for a landing-place. We'll be going in there soon, boys!" The boat approaches a cove called Ashby's Harbor, taking soundings as it nears the land. On board of her is one of the negro lads, who fearlessly pilots her towards scenes familiar to his days of bondage. "They'd better keep their eyes skinned!" says Tucket. "There's rebels in the mash there, I bet ye a dollar!" The officers of the boat land safely, and reconnoitre. As they are reembarking, however, up spring from the tall grass a company of rebels, and flash, flash, goes a volley of musketry. "I wish somebody had took me up on my bet," says Tucket; "'twould have been a dollar in my pocket."