CHAPTER XII.

The Escape.


Frank, as may be supposed, was not at all pleased with the prospect
before him. He had often heard escaped prisoners relate sad stories of
the treatment they had received while in the hands of the rebels; and,
as he knew that they cherished an especial hatred toward gun-boatmen,
he could not hope to fare very well.

The place where he was confined was in the lower part of the fort,
directly in range of the shells from the iron-clads, and Frank
expected to be struck by them every moment, for the pieces flew about
him in all directions. Oh, how he prayed that the fort might be taken!
He could see that one of their heaviest guns was dismounted, and a
large detail of men was constantly occupied in carrying off the dead
and wounded.

The firing continued until four o'clock in the afternoon, and then
the gun-boats suddenly withdrew. The rebels cheered loudly as they
disappeared around a bend in the river, and Frank gave up all hope:
nothing now remained for him but a long captivity.

That evening, as soon as it was dark, he, with the other prisoners,
was marched on board the General Quitman, a large steamer, lying just
below the fort, and carried to Haines' Bluff, and from thence they