one; but Mr. Turreton will improve when he gets his
range a little better," replied the captain.

At this moment the report of the Dornoch's great gun was heard again;
but the shot fell considerably short of the Chateaugay. At the same time
she was crowding on all the steam she could make, and Captain Chantor
was manoeuvring his ship so as to maintain his distance. The midship
gun was kept as busy as possible, and Mr. Turreton improved his practice
very materially. Fought in this manner, the action was not very
exciting. The ship followed her circular course, varying it only to
maintain the distance. For several hours the unequal battle continued.
The mainmast of the Dornoch had been shot away, and Christy, with his
glass, saw several of the huge shots crash into her bow.

It was evident, after pounding her a good part of the day, that the
enemy could not stand much more of this punishment. At eight bells in
the afternoon watch she hauled down her flag. Christy had done nothing
but watch the Dornoch, and report to Captain Chantor. As her flag came
down, he discovered that her condition, after the last shot, was
becoming desperate.

"She has settled considerably in the water, Captain Chantor, and that is
evidently the reason why she hauled down her flag," said Christy, just
as the ship's company were cheering at the disappearance of the
Confederate flag from the peak of the enemy.

"I was confident she could not endure much more such hulling as Mr.
Turreton has been bestowing upon her," replied the commander, after he
had given the order to make the course directly towards the Dornoch.

Christy continued to watch the enemy's vessel. The ship's company were
employed in stretching a sail over the bow, evidently for the purpose of
stopping in whole or partially a dangerous leak in that part of the
vessel; and she seemed to be in immediate peril of going to the bottom.
They were also getting their boats ready, and the situation must have
been critical. In a short time the Chateaugay was within hailing
distance of her prize.

"Dornoch, ahoy!" shouted Captain Chantor, mounted on the port rail. "Do
you surrender?"

"I do," replied Captain Rombold; for Christy recognized his voice. "Our
ship is sinking!"

By this time the havoc made by the big gun of the Chateaugay could be
seen and estimated. The bow of the steamer had been nearly all shot
away. Her bowsprit and her mainmast had gone by the board. Her bulwarks
were st