The _Xenophon_ still
hovered near the mouth of the narrow harbor and only waited a favorable
wind to enter the bay, and commence the siege which could have but
one result.
Captain Lane strove hard to be cheerful; but his heart was heavier than
lead. Again night came, with the _Xenophon_ anchored off Mud Island. The
night was dark, and the wind from shore strong, so that Captain Lane
knew she could not enter the harbor.
He was sitting at his fireside, when suddenly from the narrow inlet
south of the peninsula there rang out a volley of musketry followed by
wild cries and cheers. The volley was followed by heavy firing, and
Captain Lane, donning his hat, snatched his sword and ran down to the
works, where the drum was beating, and the Marylanders were seizing
muskets and falling into line.
"What is it? whom have they attacked?" was the general query asked by
all. The pickets were called in and the only sentries were the chain
guards just outside the parapet. Suddenly the sound of footsteps came
from the darkness, and the sentries knew that two or three men were
running toward them. Zeb Cole, a large, powerful Marylander, finding one
of them coming directly at him, dropped his musket and, seizing the
fellow's throat, hurled him to the ground.
"Halt! ye wanderin' Israelite. Stop an' tell me who you are?"
"Oh, let go me, massa, lem me up!" pleaded the captive, struggling to
his feet.
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