By this time fully one-third of the men who had landed having been killed, and a great number wounded, the order was given to retire, which was done steadily, the ground being contested inch by inch. At this time Company Sergeant-Major Scanlan, of the 3rd West India Regiment, and six men who were covering the retreat, fell, the former mortally wounded; and some of the bolder of the natives, rushing out of their concealment, seized Deputy-Assistant-Commissary Frith, and dragged him away into the bush, where he was barbarously murdered in cold blood. Scanlan was lying in the narrow path, his chest riddled with bullets, when the chief fetish priest of the place, to encourage the natives to make further efforts, sprang upon a ruined wall in front of him, and began dancing an uncouth dance, accompanying it with savage yells and significant gestures to the dying man. He paid dearly for his rashness, however, for Scanlan, collecting his strength for a last supreme effort, seized his loaded rifle, which was fortunately lying within reach, and discharged it at the gesticulating savage, who threw up his arms and fell dead. The next moment Scanlan was surrounded by a horde of infuriated barbarians, and his body hacked into an undistinguishable mass. The troops, sadly diminished in number, at last reached that portion of the mangrove creek where they had left the boats. Of these there had been originally but two, and one having at the commencement of the action been used to convey Lieutenant-Commander Nicolas and Mr. Dillet, under the charge of Surgeon Bradshaw, to the ship, one only remained for the men to embark in. The tide having fallen, this was lying out near the entrance of the creek, separated by an expanse of reeking mud from the shore. The men, seeing their last chance of safety cut off, threw themselves into the mud, in which many sank and were no more seen. Some few, however, succeeded in floundering along, half wading and half swimming, until they reached her, and climbed in. She was, however, so riddled with bullets, that she filled and sank almost immediately. Captain Fletcher, Lieutenant Wylie, Lieutenant Strachan, and Lieutenant Vincent, with some thirty men, endeavoured to make a last stand upon a small islet of mud and sand, near the left bank of the creek; but Lieutenant Wylie was shot dead almost at once, and Lieutenant Vincent, being shot through the body, jumped into the water, to endeavour to swim to the ship. In a few seconds seventeen men had fallen out of this devoted band, and the survivors, plunging into the creek, swam down towards the river. The natives lined the banks in crowds, keeping up a heavy fire upon the men in the water; and Captain Fletcher and Lieutenant Strachan, who were the last to leave the shore, only reached the _Teazer_ by a miracle, they having to swim more than half a mile to reach her.