The sailor, who had been carrying the second wounded man, turned
him over to Hicks, who carried his burden manfully.

Dave continued to retreat more slowly with his fighting force,
taking frequent observations rearward. From the hedge a few,
sniping shots came now and then, but, as no one was hit, Darrin
did not allow the fire to be returned.

Suddenly, three hundred yards away, a volley crashed out on the
right.

"Flanked!" muttered Darrin, grimly, as Riley threw his men into
line to meet the new attack. "I expected it. Aim two feet above
the ground, men, and fire at will until you have emptied your
magazines twice."

Down by the launch, and not thirty feet from the wharf, stood
Corporal Ross with his marines and the Colt machine gun. The
marines were wild to join in the firing, but would not do so until
ordered. Darrin was loath to let them draw the enemy's fire until
the women had been made as safe as possible on the launch.

As the American firing ceased, Dave called the order:

"Load magazines, but reserve fire. Rush three hundred feet closer
to the wharf and then halt and form again."

This move was carried out, but a third sailor dropped wounded.