"They only went in to find out who was there," began Comly, "the
_Wilmington_, _Hudson_, and _Winslow_. The last, being of least
draught, ran ahead, and got within range of some hidden batteries
before she discovered them. She was turning to go out when they opened
fire. In a minute the little ship was riddled by shot and shell. Her
commander was wounded, her steering-gear had gone wrong, her engines
were crippled, and she lay helpless. The _Hudson_ ran up to tow her
out of range, and poor old Bagley had just sung out for them to heave
him a line, as the situation was getting rather too warm for comfort,
when a bursting shell instantly killed him, together with four of the
crew. In spite of the hot fire, the _Hudson_ ran a line and brought
out what was left of the _Winslow_ and her company; but you'd better
believe the little craft was a mighty sad-looking wreck. Hello!
What's that?"

A string of colored signal-lights had flashed out for a moment directly
ahead of the _Speedy_, and then disappeared. The strangest thing about
them was that they had been shown just above the surface of the water,
instead of from a masthead, as would usually be the case on a war-ship.
The _Speedy_ had been slipping quietly along, showing her regular side
lights, which, as she was of low freeboard, must also have appeared
close to the water from a short distance, and might have been mistaken
for a signal. Now she quickly displayed the night-signal of the
American blockading fleet, as well as her own private number, but no
answer came to either. By the time the _Speedy's_ crew were at
quarters it was evident, from muffled sounds borne down the wind, that
the stranger was a steamer in full retreat.

"Give her a blank shot," ordered Captain Boldwood, and the words had
barely left his mouth before the forward six-pounder gun had roared out