More cannonballs crashed and rattled along the deck, more shells exploded, more water erupted alongside, more men screamed, until Watters found himself lying beside the rail, wondering what had happened as red-stained sea water hissed and bubbled past him. There were further explosions, the acrid sting of smoke in Watters"s throat, and rapid footsteps on the deck. Someone was shouting "lower that damned rebel flag," and a man scrambled aloft to fall as somebody shot him. Watters heard rifle fire, sharper than the previous cannon, the distinctive c***k of a revolver, and polished boots tramped beside his face.
"Up, you rebel bastard!" The boots moved as the owner kicked him hard in the ribs. "Get up, damn your hide!"
Rough hands hauled Watters upright. He stared into the lean face of a yo
