Without any orders from the Captain, Tom Longstone and Raymond depressed the muzzles of the guns till they pointed into the midst of the two groups in the passageways. “Those who wish to surrender, come aft!” said Captain Bankhead in a loud tone, so that all the rebels could hear him. Before Dunnett could counteract the effects of this invitation upon his party, the miserable rebels began to crawl aft; for it was not in the nature of man to face the muzzles of those terrible guns, which at any instant might tear them in pieces. It was folly and madness to stand up or lie down in range of such savage persecutors. The movement soon became general; and, as the rebels came aft, they were disarmed and secured by the seamen. “Cowards!” yelled Dunnett. “Will you desert me? Will you put your necks into a halter?” The words hissed from his mouth in the fearful rage he exhibited when he saw himself deserted by nearly all his party. He was a desperate man, and evidently had no regard for his own life or the lives of his men. He had risen from his recumbent posture when the stampede of his forces became general. Finding his words had no effect upon his frightened followers, he began to flourish his bowie-knife, and threatened to take the life of anyone who accepted the captain’s offer. The force of example was potent; and apparently there were not more than half a dozen who were willing to stand by him in his reckless measures. The battle among the rebels themselves had actually commenced; and the desperado had stabbed two or three of his miserable crew, when Captain Bankhead considered it time for him to interfere. He ordered six marines to advance with bayonets, under the direction of Mr. Dickey, to be supported by half the crew with cutlasses and pistols. Mr. Dickey, with his sword drawn, advanced valiantly to the charge. Dunnett, and the half-dozen rebels who still adhered to his failing fortunes, retreated to the bow of the steamer, passing over the wounded and frightened ones who had been vainly striving to escape the fury of their own leader. “Come on, my men!” shouted Mr. Dickey, who led the way ten feet ahead of the marines, when the rebels fled from the heavy force sent to capture them.