tossing a rope's end as he came up, swimming with one arm, the flag in his teeth. I towed him to the landing-stair and helped him over. Leaning on my shoulder, he shook out the tattered flag, its white laced with his own blood.
"Ready t' jump in hell fer thet ol' rag any day," said he, as we all cheered him.
Each grabbed a tatter of the good flag, pressing hard upon D'ri, and put it to his lips and kissed it proudly. Then we marched up and down, D'ri waving it above us—a bloody squad as ever walked, shouting loudly. D'ri had begun to weaken with loss of blood, so I coaxed him to go below with me.
The battle was over; a Yankee band was playing near by.
"Perry is coming! Perry is coming!" we heard them shouting above.
A feeble cry that had in it pride and joy and inextinguishable devotion passed many a fevered lip in the cockpit.
There were those near who had won a better peace, and they lay as a man that listens to what were now the merest vanity.
Perry came, when the sun was low, with a
