But all were looking at the schooner with an intense, fascinated, yet
horrified gaze.
Nobody was left on the deck of the vessel but the dead. The huge,
intertwining coil of fiery ribbons seemed suddenly to unite in one great
glowing mass, out of which flames shot high, sputtering and crackling.
Then came an awful moment of silence, the vessel trembled, leaped from the
water, turned into a volcano of fire and with a tremendous crash blew up.
The report was so great that it came rolling back in echo after echo, but
for a few moments there was no other sound save the echo. Then followed a
rain of burning wood, many pieces falling in the supply fleet, burning and
scorching, while others fell hissing in the forest on either shore.
Darkness, too, came over land and water. All the firing had ceased as if
by preconcerted signal, though the combatants on either side were awed by
the fate of the vessel. The smoke bank came back, too, thicker and heavier
than before, and the air was filled with the strong, pungent odor of
burnt gunpowder.
But the schooner that had blocked the mouth of the bayou was gone forever
and the way lay open before them. Adam Colfax recovered from the shock of
the explosion.
"On, men! On!" he roared, and the whole fleet, animated by a single
impulse, sprang forward toward the mouth of the bayou, the cannon blazing
anew the path, the gunners loading and firing, as fast as they could.
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