“He told me we hadn’t seen the end of it yet,” replied Jack. “What are we going to do?” “Dunno, my darling.” “Shall we fight, or surrender?” “Jest look at the leftenant afore you say surrender.” “They are three to our one.” “No matter, my boy, if they were ten to our one. Never say die!” Jack couldn’t exactly see how they were to proceed, with a company of fifty or sixty men in the very act of charging upon them; but he had unlimited confidence in his commander, and he was resolved to take things as they came. “Halt!” shouted the captain of the rebel company. Mr. Granger declined to obey, and ordered the men to move on towards the boat. The muskets of the soldiers were raised to their shoulders. “Fall flat on the ground!” said the commander suddenly. “Fire!” shouted the rebel officer at the moment, when all the seamen dropped as though they had been shot. The bullets whistled over their heads; but not a man was injured. They jumped, and ran again with all their might towards the place where they had landed, closely pursued by the rebels. Old Tom Longstone and some others of the party were more accustomed to fighting than they were to running; and the consequence was, that the rebels gained rapidly upon them. But, in the midst of the race, Jack Somers, agile and fleet as he was, happened to be tripped by one of his companions, who was looking over his shoulder to see the pursuers. Before he could pick himself up, his party had left him, and the rebels were upon him. CHAPTER XVII. RETURN OF THE EXPEDITION. Precisely what Jack’s feeling were when he saw his friends pass on without him, and the rebels drawing near, it would be difficult to say. They were not pleasant; and it may have occurred to him that all the dismal forebodings of old Grummet were to be realized. “Stand by that man!” said the rebel captain as he passed him. The soldier to whom this order was given, was, no doubt, very glad to obey it; for Jack looked like a puny opponent, and there was a prospect of a sharp fight with the blue-jackets when they reached their boat. But the soldier made a slight mistake; for Jack had no intention of being made a prisoner by any single rebel in the Confederacy. He had a cutlass and a pistol; and he knew that his enemy’s gun was not loaded. Jack jumped up, and confronted the soldier as soon as he reached the spot; the main body still pursuing the sailors. He was a tall, stout fellow, and looked as ugly as a human being could look. “Drop that cutlass!” said the rebel soldier as he placed himself in the attitude of “charge bayonets.” “Drop that gun!” replied Jack, elevating his large naval revolver. “That’s your game, is it, Yank?” added the rebel, retreating a few paces, evidently not pleased with the situation. “That’s my game, reb. I say, drop that gun, or there’ll be a dead man round here somewhere.” “That’s rather sharp, Yank!” replied the crest-fallen soldier, too proud to obey the order.