When the crew of the _Enterprise_ heard the orders for this work passed, a distinct Yankee growl swept along the deck. Burrows had been on board but three days and they did not know him--they thought he meant to run instead of fight--and a midshipman was requested by the men on the forecastle to go aft and say to the captain that the men wanted to fight. The middie yielded so far as to tell the executive officer, Lieutenant Edward Rutley McCall, what the men were growling about, and he, knowing the men well, promptly quieted them by explaining why the _Enterprise_ was apparently running away. At 3 o’clock the desired offing was obtained, and then ensigns were set on the _Enterprise_, the topmen ran aloft to furl the lighter sails; came down again; manned the braces, and, tacking around, headed with free sheets for the enemy that with her brave show of bunting was coming on confident of victory. For twenty minutes thereafter the two ships approached steadily, each holding her fire until within half pistol-shot, when both cut loose almost at the same instant with a broadside. It was a deadly fire on both sides, for men were struck on the _Enterprise_ as well as on the enemy, and as it happened, those cut down on the _Enterprise_ were working one of the quarter-deck guns. The men had cheered on both ships as they fired and on both sides they cheered as they began to reload their guns, Burrows joining in with encouraging words. As the short-handed crew just under his eye grasped the tackles to haul out the gun for the next round he ran to their aid, grasped the tackle-fall with both hands, braced his foot against the port-sill and threw his weight on the tackle with the men. And then came a canister-shot from the enemy through the port, striking the Yankee commander in the upper part of the leg by which he was braced, and, glancing along the bone of the thigh, it buried itself in his abdomen. [Illustration: The _Enterprise_ and _Boxer_. _From a wood-cut in the “Naval Monument.”_] It was “a fearful wound,” but Burrows, despite his mortal agony, refused to be carried below, “crying out that the colors must never be struck.” However, Lieutenant McCall was obliged to take command, and this was one of the few instances in history where a subordinate who succeeded to the command of a ship because his superior was shot out of it has done as well as his chief could have done. The fire on the _Enterprise_ continued as vigorous and effective as before. Her sailing proved, bad as it was, superior to that of the enemy, and on forging ahead McCall eased her sheets, hauled down his foresail, ran down across her bows, raked her with his port battery, and then luffing up and backing his head-yards, he raked her again and again with the fresh battery on the starboard side. [Illustration: Diagram of the ENTERPRISE-BOXER BATTLE. The wind was from the southwest.]