As he turned to go he heard the congressman say sarcastically that he did not think “that boy was so very anxious to go to Annapolis.” Franklin was the only one of the ship’s company who did not brighten when they received the electric thrill of an order, which broke their weary vigil in the famous bay by sending the cruiser to patrol duty among the southern islands. But when they were under way Franklin found that the congressman was still aboard, and his hopes revived a little. For a week of coasting from port to port he looked in vain for some event which would set him right. Then came an order transferring him. He was assigned to the _Marietta_, a tiny gunboat no bigger than a harbor tugboat and with but half the draft. He had only time to get his belongings together, which does not take a sailor long. He found that his cousin had also been transferred, and was to be commander of the cockle-shell. The _Marietta’s_ first assignment was to take none other than the congressman up a river to the capital of a province where he had a son, an officer of the army, in command of the garrison. There Franklin would definitely see the last of him. They had no thought of meeting with any delay on their run of the five miles of winding stream, but it is when they are least expected that guerrillas appear. The congressman was sitting in the bow admiring the scenery, the little engine was “chugging” earnestly, the screw was whirling vigorously through the muddy water, when out of the soft green foliage of the right bank cracked a volley. The congressman, a veteran himself, dropped on the deck and looked about him for a rifle, his old eyes flashing. The cadet had never been under fire before. He dodged and fell on the deck with the others. Franklin was at the wheel and remained erect, frightened but not forgetting his duty. There had not been a tremor of the rudder. “Steer for that bank, sharp, sharp!” Edward called, and Franklin obeyed. “I don’t want to—to endanger your life,” he panted to the congressman, his sentence broken by the ring of a bullet against the hull, and whistle of other bullets over their heads. “Seems to me I’d put a few shots back at ’em in the meanwhile,” said the congressman. “What’s that for?” He nodded toward a rapid-fire gun in the bow. “And that?” toward a one-pounder in the stern. Edward could not fail to take the hint. He sprang up with trembling limbs and ran to the rapid-fire gun, calling for the other to be manned. A bullet struck its support before he could put it in action. That made him forget all his training. He aimed wildly, and jammed the delicate machine almost instantly. Then, in his desperation, he ran toward the wheel. “Steer in closer, closer!” “It’s too shallow, sir,” Franklin replied.