“No, it’s not.” The ensign could hear the triumphant shouts of the insurgents, who increased their fire. He was wild with exasperation. “It’s not!” he repeated, and seized the wheel in his own hands and turned it hard alee. The bow veered sharply. For an instant the boat flew forward, then grounded. As if they had been waiting on this for a signal, a fire broke out from some bushes which rose above the level of the grassy bank on the left side. “Both sides!” gasped the ensign. He sprang overboard, as much to avoid the fire as anything. “Push her off!” Everybody leaped into the water. When the insurgents on the left bank saw the predicament of the Americans, they broke out of their cover with a yell, and came running toward them. Meanwhile, the _Marietta_ was still in range of the fire from the other side. It was a question only of minutes, yes, of seconds, before they would be prisoners. The current swung the _Marietta_ partially round and drove her fast into the soft mud, and the misdirected efforts of her crew to free her were as unavailing as if she were a battle-ship. “Can’t somebody fire that gun? Can’t somebody fire?” the congressman called, putting the strength of his sixty years against the hull, and feeling his shoes sinking in the soft ooze beneath them. At this juncture, in face of the fire, Franklin sprang on deck, and ran aft to the jammed instrument of their hope. He felt as cool as his father’s son ought to feel under such circumstances. The parts of the mechanism were not a jumble to him as they were to the excited cadet, and he saw the difficulty and how simple it was. His study, his questions, had not been in vain. “Man the one-pounder! Get the rifles, everybody!” he called, with the instinct of command. As they tumbled aboard the crew heard the rat-tat-tat of the gun under Franklin’s hand, sweeping the field of white-shirted figures pressing forward, and soon a little shell from the one-pounder threw up dirt at their feet. The insurgents were too near their prize to be stopped yet. “Keep cool, everybody, keep cool!” said the congressman, himself firing with the nice calculation of a man at a range. The Americans did not realize that shots were still coming from the rear. They knew that the insurgents on the other side of the stream could not cross it, and that was enough. If the gun should jam again, all would be lost. But it did not jam; and soon the insurgents, no longer able to stand the persistent accuracy of the machine, began to fall back, and finally ran in pell-mell flight, leaving their wounded behind. Promptly Franklin whirled his gun round and began firing upon the first attacking party, which withdrew when it saw that it was unsupported by the other side. When excitement no longer made their efforts futile, and one was not pushing against another, and with the screw properly directed to their assistance, the crew was very soon able to force the stranded _Marietta_ back into the stream.