But the
savage army and navy had been beaten off, and the core of his fleet was
saved. He could still go on to Pittsburgh with his precious cargo.
The trumpet was sounded again, and the boats, drawing together, began to
count their losses. It was a long sad count, but those who survived were
elated over their great victory.
It was then that Adam Colfax discovered the loss of the five who had
helped him so much. Some one had seen them spring ashore to protect the
escape of the skirmishers, and he ordered the fleet at once toward the
land to save them, or, if too late, to bring their bodies to the boat.
A dozen boats swung in toward the bank and that of Adam Colfax was
foremost. He was not conscious of the gentle rain, save that it felt
cooling and pleasant on his face after the heat and smoke of the battle.
Yet the brain of the stern New Hampshire man was still fevered, too. The
battle had ceased, but the roar of the cannon-shots and the crash of the
rifles yet echoed in his ears. The black forest that came down to the
water's edge, was full of mystery and terror, and his was no timid heart.
Smoke of the battle drifted among the trees or over the river, and the
rain did not drive it all away. In the far distance low thunder muttered,
and now and then flashes of heat lightning drew a belt of coppery red
along the dark horizon.
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