ret ammunition-hoist, reported the service of the whisky to
his mates, and from here the news spread--as news will in a cellular
hull--up to turrets and gun-rooms, through speaking-tubes and
water-tight bulkheads, down to stoke-hold, engine-rooms, and
steering-room; and long before Captain Blake had thought of taking a
drink the whole ship's company was commenting, mentally and openly, and
more or less profanely, on the story that "the old man was getting
drunk in the conning-tower."

And another piece of news traveled as fast and as far--the whereabouts
of Finnegan. Mr. Clarkson had incidentally informed his gun-captain,
who told the gun-crew; and from them the news went down the hoist and
spread. Men swore louder over this; for though they did not want
Finnegan around and in the way, they did not want him to die. Strong
natures love those which may be teased; and not a heart was there but
contained a soft spot for the helpless, harmless, ever good-natured,
drunk, and ridiculous Finnegan.

The bark of an eight-inch gun was heard. Captain Blake saw, through the
slits of the conning-tower, a cloud of thinning smoke drifting away
from the flag-ship. Stepping back, he rang up the forward turret.

"Mr. Clarkson," he said to the telephone when it answered him,
"remember: aim for the nearest water-line, load and fire, and expect no
orders after the first shot."

Calling up the officer in the after-turret, he repeated the injunction,
substituting turrets as the object of assault. He called to the
officers at the eight-inch guns that conning-towers and superstructure
were to receive their attention; to those at the six-inch guns to aim
solely at turret apertures; to ensigns and officers of marine in charge
of the quick-fire batteries to aim at all holes and men showing, to
watch for torpedo-boats, and, like the others, to expect no orders
after the first shot. Then, ringing up the round of gun-stations, one
after another, he sang out, in a voice to be heard by all: "Fire away!"

The initial gun had been fired from the flag-ship when the leading
ships of the two fleets were nearly abreast. It was followed by
broadsides from all, and the action began. The _Argyll_, rolling
slightly from the recoil of her guns, smoked down the line like a thing
alive, voicing her message, dealing out death and receiving it. In this
first round of the battle the fire of the eight opposing vessels was
directed at her alone. Shells punctured her