determined, and we knew that he had got his sight to suit him and that
he was about to fire the gun.

With a gesture of disgust he threw down the firing lanyard.

"It's no go," he said, "that cartridge will have to come out."

We looked at one another; it was a serious moment. The bombardment was
now at its height, and the thunderous roaring of the guns was increasing
with every passing second. Above and around us the vicious reports of
the "Yankee's" five-inch rapid-firers seemed like one continuous volley.
A hoarse cheer came from a nearby ship, proclaiming the landing of some
favored shot.

"Hurry, fellows," shouted "Hay" in an ecstasy of impatience. "Lively
there; we're missing all the sport."

CHAPTER XI.

A PERILOUS MOMENT.

The scene on the gun deck of the "Yankee" at that moment would have made
an eloquent subject for the brush of a Meissonier. It was the deck of a
warship in battle, and the spectacle enacted was accompanied, by an
orchestra of the mighty guns of a fleet in action.

Imagine a compartment of steel, a compartment filled with smoke that
surged and eddied as the ship lunged forward or rolled upon a heavy
swell.

Imagine scattered about in this pungent vapor many groups of men, men
half-naked, perspiring; their glistening bodies smeared and stained with
the grime of conflict.

Imagine in the centre of one of these groups a wicked, menacing gun--a
five-inch breechloader, its long, lean barrel raised shoulder-high upon
the apex of a conical gun-mount, near the base of which are significant
wooden cases, some empty and others filled with elongated, formidable
cartridges; and pails of black, dirty water ascum with powder; and other
objects each significant of war.

Imagine these things, and then understand that this gun, made to be
turned against an enemy, has now turned against its workers. In the
bore, pent in by the polished breechblock, is a cartridge which has
failed in its duty. It is apparently defective.

The tide of battle is surging on; other ships of the bombarding fleet
are still pouring their shot and shell upon the grim array of forts
ashore; other guns of this ship are pursuing their duty with savage
energy. But this gun is silent.

The men wax impatient. It is the height of the conflict. Many shots have
been fired, and many more will yet be required to subdue the enemy. To
be "out of action" will mean passiveness in the face of the enemy.
Anything but that.

There is