Murray was thankful when he could at length examine poor Archy's wound. The lad had fainted from loss of blood; the bullet, it appeared, had lodged in his side. McTavish, the assistant-surgeon, was fortunately in the pinnace, and when she came up he took the midshipman under his charge, as well as several other poor fellows severely wounded. Tom held him in his arms while the doctor probed his wound, and at length succeeded in extracting the bullet. "He'll not die, I hope," said Tom, feeling very sick and sad. "Not this time, I trust. He has a good constitution, and that's everything in his favour," answered McTavish. There was no time, however, for sorrow or sentiment. Most of the boats had now got up, and Captain Hemming not waiting for the rearmost ones, which he calculated would arrive in time to land the men after the first part had gained a footing on the banks, gave the order to attack. With true British cheers the crews gave way, and the stream now being in their favour, the boats, still exposed to a warm fire, rapidly approached the landing-place. In front of them was the principal stockade, guarding the landing-place, a gun on which opened fire. As the boats kept in line it did no damage, for missing one it missed all. Pulling quickly on, the leading boats of the flotilla soon reached the landing-place, when the captain, with Jack and Terence, were the first to leap on shore. Tom and Gerald, with Needham, came close behind them. The marines, led by their tall commander, followed, and formed quickly up. The bluejackets and soldiers immediately afterwards landed, and the captain, with his companions, again giving forth hearty cheers, rushed towards the stockade in which the gun was posted. The Nicaraguans, dark, stalwart fellows, stood their ground bravely, till they saw the cutlasses of the seamen waving about their heads, and the bayonets of the soldiers pointed at their breasts, when a well-directed volley of musketry laid many low, and as the seamen climbed over the stockade, the survivors abandoning their gun, fled for shelter within the fort. Here, rallied by their officers, they made another stand, but the English sailors, rushing forward, were soon climbing over the defences in spite of the showers of bullets which were flying past them. The bluejackets and redcoats vied with each other as to who should be first over, and as they sprang down into the fort, the former began slashing and hewing away with their cutlasses, while the latter, forming as they got over, brought their weapons to the charge, and dashed forward against the main body of the enemy, who stood their ground.