Nevertheless, Frank resolved to make the attempt, for he wanted to take revenge on them for shooting Simpson.  But, just as he was about to start out, he heard the captain shout down through the trumpet which ran from the pilot-house to the engine-room: 

“Back her, strong!  We must get away from the bank or they will pick us all off.”

In obedience to the order, the engineers let on the steam, and a heavy puffing told Frank that the powerful engines were doing their utmost to break the line which held them to the bank.  Here was another thing that Frank knew he ought to do; he knew that he ought to cut that line, for it would be an impossibility to break it.  There was an ax handy, and a sudden rush and a couple of lusty strokes would put the vessel out of danger.  But, at short intervals, he heard the bullets crashing through the side of the boat, and he knew that the guerrillas were on the watch.  If he made the attempt he could scarcely hope to come back alive; and he thought of his mother and Julia, how badly they would feel when they heard of his death.  But even where he stood he was in danger of being struck by the bullets that were every moment coming through the vessel; and would not his mother much rather hear that he fell while performing his duty, than that he was shot while standing idly by, taking no part in the fight?  He did not wait to take a second thought, but seized the ax, and, with one bound, reached the gangway that led out on to the forecastle.  Here he hesitated again, but it was only for a moment.  Clutching his ax with a firmer hold, and gathering all his strength for the trial, he sprang forward, and a few rapid steps brought him to the capstan, to which the line was made fast.  He raised his ax, and one swift blow severed the line, and the Milwaukee swung rapidly out from the bank Without waiting an instant, Frank turned and retreated; but, instead of going back to the place where he had left Simpson, he bounded up the steps that led to the boiler-deck, and the next moment was safe behind a pile of baled clothing.  His sudden appearance had taken the rebels completely by surprise, and before they could recover themselves, the line had been cut, and the young hero was safe.  But they had seen where he had taken refuge, and, with loud yells of disappointment and rage, sent their bullets about his hiding-place in a perfect shower.  Frank, however, knowing that he was safe, was not in the least alarmed.  Waiting until the fire slackened a little, he sprang up, and, snatching a musket and cartridge-box from the rack which stood close by the door of the cabin, was back to his hiding-place in a moment.

“Now,” he soliloquized, “we are on more equal terms.  Better keep close, or I’ll drop some of you.”

In his cool, sober moments, Frank would have shuddered at the thought of taking the life of a fellow-being; but he had seen Simpson shot down before his eyes—­perhaps killed; and is it to be wondered that he wished to avenge his fall?