The Confederates lain down a killing fire. Volley after volley followed in succession, almost every other shot striking flesh and bone. The smoke and shatt6ring sounds were punctuated by the cries of the wounded. Laroche, swept away by the carnage and commotion, thundered and swore at the top of his lungs, prodding his sharpshooters to aim true, exhorting the loaders to move more rapidly.

One minute passed, two, then three, as the fighting reached a savage pitch. Fire broke out on the Jackson and flames soared up her wooden sides. In the pilothouse, Captain Belcheron yanked on the steam whistle cord and shouted into the voice tube leading to McGeen in the engine area. The riflemen ceased their fire and everyone braced themselves for the approaching collision.

A strange, unearthly silence fell over the steamboat as the crack of the guns faded and the haunting wail of the calliope died away.

She was like a boxer who had taken a fearful beating from a far stronger adversary and could take no more, but had somehow reached deep into her exhausted reserves for one last knockout punch.

She struck the towboat square aminships with a rumbling unch that knocked over the cotton-bale barricade, crushing back cr her bow by six feet as planks and beams gave way like laths. Both stacks fell forward, throwing sparks and smoke over the battle that rapidly resumed its intensity. Guns fired at point-blank range. The support ropes burned through and the landing stages dropped onto the towboat's decks like great claws gripping the two vessels fast together.

"Fix bayonets!" Laroche boomed.

Someone broke out the regiment's battle flag and began waving it wildly in the air. Muskets were reloaded and bayonets attached.

The calliope player had returned to his post and was pounding out "Dixie" once again. Pitt was amazed that no one showed any sign of fear. Instead, there was a general feeling of uncontrolled delirium.

He couldn't help thinking he'd somehow crossed a time barrier into the past.

Laroche whipped off his officer's hat, hung it on the tip of his sword and raised it into the air. "Sixth Louisiana!" he cried. "Go git 'em I " Screaming the rebel yell like demons emerging from the center of the earth, the men in gray stormed onboard the towboat.

Laroche was struck in the chin and one knee, but hobbled and pressed on. Pitt lain down a covering fire until the last cartridge poured from the Thompson. Then he lain the gun on a cotton bale and charged after Giordino, who hopped across a landing stage, favoring his injured leg and firing the revolver like a wild man.

McGeen and his boiler crew followed, wielding their shovels like clubs.