f my brother officers when he fled, had the meanness to
pick my pocket and steal my watch!"

Thus those who begun by stealing public property, forts, and arsenals,
did not hesitate to violate their honor,--fleeing after surrendering,
forsaking their wounded comrade, robbing him of his valuables, and
leaving him to drown!

There is no cessation of the cannonade. The fight goes on. The Benton is
engaged with the General Lovell. They are but a few rods apart, and both
within a stone's-throw of the multitude upon the shore.

Captain Phelps stands by one of the Benton's rifled guns. He waits to
give a raking shot, runs his eye along the sights, and gives the word to
fire. The steel-pointed shot enters the starboard side of the hull, by
the water-line. Timbers, braces, planks, the whole side of the boat
seemingly, are torn out.

The water pours in. The vessel settles to the guards, to the ports, to
the top of the casemate, reels, and with a lurch disappears. It is the
work of three minutes.

The current sets swiftly along the shore. The plummet gives seventy-five
feet of water. The vessel goes down like a lump of lead. Her
terror-stricken crew are thrown into the current. It is an appalling
sight. A man with his left arm torn, broken, bleeding, and dangling by
his side, runs wildly over the deck. There is unspeakable horror in his
face. He beckons now to those on shore, and now to his friends on board
the boats. He looks imploringly to heaven, and calls for help.
Unavailing the cry. He disappears in the eddying whirlpool. A hundred
human beings are struggling for life, buffeting the current, raising
their arms, catching at sticks, straws, planks, and timbers. "Help!
help! help!" they cry. It is a wild wail of agony, mingled with the
cannonade.

There is no help for them on shore. There, within a dozen rods, are
their friends, their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives,
children, they who urged them to join the service, who compelled them to
enlist. All are powerless to aid them!

They who stand upon the shore behold those whom they love defeated,
crushed, drowning, calling for help! It is an hour when heart-strings
are wrung. Tears, cries, prayers, efforts, all are unavailing.

Commodore Davis beholds them. His heart is touched. "Save them, lads,"
he says.

The crews of the Benton and Carondelet rush to their boats. So eager are
they to save the struggling men that one of the boats is swamped in the
launchin