ike a draught of wine that gave fresh spirit to the most
despairing soul.

And now other tidings came. There was a busy stir in the camp of the
besiegers. They were crowding to the river-banks. As far as the eye
could see, the stream was lined. The daring ships had a gauntlet of fire
to run. Their attempt seemed hopeless, indeed. The river was low. The
channel which they would have to follow ran near the left bank, where
numerous batteries had been planted. They surely would never succeed.
Yet still they came, and still the lookout heralded their movements to
the excited multitude below.

The leading ship was the Mountjoy, a merchant-vessel laden heavily with
provisions. Its captain was Micaiah Browning, a native of Londonderry.
He had long advised such an attempt, but the general in command had
delayed until positive orders came from England that something must be
done.

On hearing of this, Browning immediately volunteered. He was eager to
succor his fellow-townsmen. Andrew Douglas, captain of the Phoenix, a
vessel laden with meal from Scotland, was willing and anxious to join in
the enterprise. As an escort to these two merchantmen came the
Dartmouth, a thirty-six-gun frigate, its commander John Leake,
afterwards an admiral of renown.

Up the stream they came, the Dartmouth in the lead, returning the fire
of the forts with effect, pushing steadily onward, with the merchantmen
closely in the rear. At length the point of peril was reached. The boom
extended across the stream, seemingly closing all further passage. But
that remained to be seen. The Mountjoy took the lead, all its sails
spread, a fresh breeze distending the canvas, and rushed head on at the
boom.

A few minutes of exciting suspense followed, then the great barricade
was struck, strained to its utmost, and, with a rending sound, gave way.
So great was the shock that the Mountjoy rebounded and stuck in the mud.
A yell of triumph came from the Irish who crowded the banks. They rushed
to their boats, eager to board the disabled vessel; but a broadside from
the Dartmouth sent them back in disordered flight.

In a minute more the Phoenix, which had followed close, sailed through
the breach which the Mountjoy had made, and was past the boom.
Immediately afterwards the Mountjoy began to move in her bed of mud. The
tide was rising. In a few minutes she was afloat and under way again,
safely passing through the barrier of broken stakes and spars. But her
br