stranger and explodes.

The irrevocable step is taken. England's flag has been fired upon.

All hands wait to see what the stranger will do. Three miles told the
range-finder.

A brown mist shoots from the stranger's forward turret; at the same time
the British flag is hauled down, and the flag of the enemy floats
defiance in its stead. Two 10-inch shells fall but a few yards short of
the _Kearsarge_, and a moment later the sound of the discharge reaches
the ears of her crew.

Two miles and a half registers the range-finder, and all the officers
are directed to open fire. Shot after shot belches forth from the
_Kearsarge_'s broadside and speeds towards the enemy, exploding against
her armor and topsides.

As yet the _Kearsarge_ has not been hit, but now the vapor from the
enemy's smokeless powder shoots from the muzzles of a score of guns not
two thousand yards away, and two tons of steel are launched on their
deadly flight.

The havoc aboard the _Kearsarge_ will never be forgotten. The armor is
pierced, the topsides are riddled. The carnage among the unprotected men
on the gun-deck and superstructure is awful. But worst of all, many men
not wounded by shot and shell are laid insensible by some unseen power.

Skulonite is the word that passes from lip to lip. The poisonous gas is
the aftermath of the explosion of shells loaded with this deadly
compound.

The men are carried from the compartments filled with the vapor, and the
air-tight doors are closed to prevent the spreading of the noxious fumes
to the magazines and engine-rooms.

The cruisers are now but fifteen hundred yards apart, steaming in
opposite directions. As they circle about one another like mighty birds
of prey they are fast approaching within range at which a new weapon
will be launched against the other's steel hull, the silent but
relentless torpedo. Then the ram will soon crash through one of the
cruisers. Which will it be?

The _Kearsarge_'s fire is becoming more desultory as the crew of one gun
after another succumbs to the terrible influence of the skulonite.

Suddenly a steel fishlike weapon is seen shooting from the enemy's side.
The Captain of the _Kearsarge_ watches with breathless anxiety the line
of bubbles on the water's surface, as the torpedo approaches his ship at
a terrific speed. It suddenly swerves, and goes but a few yards clear of
her stern.

The _Kearsarge_'s breast torpedo is launched at the enemy. With a splash
it