The light stabbed the night, in and out. It veered to sea with enormous speed. A long, black silhouette with three funnels appeared full in the circle of its artificial day. A funnel vanished, and another. A spout of water lifted alongside from a shell that had fallen short. Another, the next instant, smashed into its side and made it reel. The destroyer turned suddenly and rushed at the land. Its steering gear had been shot away. Almost instantly it straightened out again; but Little Nahant was raving. Little Nahant was flaming without pause. The searchlight held the ship. It staggered, like a stumbling animal, pitched twice, each time a little more wildly, and went down bow first. “Have repulsed attack on search-light station and observers at this point,” went the word [Illustration: “A landing was attempted in greater force, with the assistance of a destroyer division lying close to the beach.”] from Bailey’s Hill on Nahant to the battle commander in Fort Warren. “No losses. Destroyer and five ships’ boats with crews completely eliminated.” _Attacks Made Everywhere_ They did not have time to cheer at Fort Warren. On Nantasket Beach, as far south as Nahant was north, a landing was being attempted in greater force and with the determined assistance of a destroyer division that was lying close to the beach. Here there were three hundred men of Massachusetts Volunteer Militia, Coast Artillery, behind barb-wire and sand-bag defenses with two pieces of field artillery and three machine guns. They were being swept by savage fire from the destroyers. “We can hold the ships’ boats off. Surf high, and landing will be slow,” they reported to the battle commander by field telegraph. “But we must have relief from naval fire, or cannot concentrate efforts on landing parties.” Their officers sent the exact distance from the beach of the destroyers. In the forts the fire commanders studied their charts, plotted with diagrams of the shore in sections. They calculated the range. A dropping shot from a 6-inch gun fell among the enemy vessels one minute later. The next went over. The third struck a destroyer. Before it disappeared, shells were falling among the division too fast to count. Three guns were firing. They were throwing 12 shells in one minute.[98] Two destroyers were towed away, crippled. Another escaped from the fire zone but sank at sea. Undeterred, the boat parties tried to run the surf and rush the defenders. But the sea was heavy, breaking with a sharp over-fall. Unprotected by fire from the sea, unable to work their own machine guns in the rough water, the sailors were pounded in the breakers. The field artillery blew their boats apart. The machine guns slashed them. Rifle fire hammered them. “Attack beaten off,” reported the militiamen. In the surf there were a few drifting pieces of wood, tossing oars and bodies pitching to and fro as the undertow played with them. _The “Hussars of the Sea”_