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
brave commander was no more. A shot from one of the batteries had struck
and killed him, when on the very verge of gaining the highest honor that
man could attain,--that of saving his native town from the horrors of
starvation or massacre.
While this was going on, the state of feeling of the lean and hungry
multitude within the town was indescribable.
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