One shell exploded near the embrasure
of one of the smaller guns killing one and wounding four. As yet, they
had not touched one of the enemy, and the young commandant was
chagrined, anxious and annoyed. He lost his temper and raved at the
gunners, who were doing their best. They lacked science.
His brave riflemen stood under the earthworks, grasping their guns which
were useless now, while they lamented that the Britons were not
in range.
Officers, citizens and even privates implored Fernando to come down. A
shell exploded in the air, and a piece grazed his shoulder, yet he kept
his place on the rampart. Terrence Malone, who could see no reason for
courting death, had sought shelter behind a gun carriage. Fernando's
anxiety and mortification increased as he witnessed the repeated
failures of his gunners to hull the _Xenophon_. Amid smoke, dust and
whizzing missiles, he kept his post. The thunder of guns, the whizzing
balls, and shrieking shells were unheard in his great anxiety to defeat
the British.
Suddenly a hand clutched his arm, and a silvery voice, which he
recognized in an instant, cried:
"This is folly! Come down--come down from this certain death!"
"Morgianna, you here!" he cried. "For Heaven's sake, go to the
bomb-proof shelter. You must not expose yourself here."
"I will not go a step until you come from the rampart.
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