Whistler
immediately saw. The man's shoulder dripped blood from a raking wound.
Had it been Torry, Phil knew he would still have stepped forward, just
as he was doing, and have calmly taken the place of the wounded man.

"Keep it up, boys!" grinned the wounded one. "I'll be back soon's the
doc gives this the once over."

The work went on. Shell, powder, breech! Ready all! A moment while the
captain's finger trembled on the trigger button. Then the hiss of air as
the breech swung open, yawning for another charge.

The thousand-pound shell, hurtling through the smoke-filled air, found
the vitals of the _Kennebunk's_ immediate enemy. It scarcely shocked
Whistler when he peered out to see that vast mountain of steel burst
open amidships. She sank in seconds, and the _Kennebunk_ steamed on to
attack a second monster of the deep.

The battle continued. Moments seemed longer than minutes; minutes
dragged by like hours. The wonder of it all was that so much damage
could be done in so short a time.

Ships that had cost months of labor to build settled and disappeared
beneath the surface in a few minutes. And their crews? Best not talk
about them.

History will relate in detail and with exactness, the story of this
fight. The superdreadnaught, so shortly off the ways, endured her
baptism of fire, coming through the battle scarred but victorious. Alone
she sank two of the enemy.

Her own casualty list was small. But it was some hours after the battle
before Philip Morgan made sure that his three friends were safe. Repairs
and other necessary work took up the attention of the crew until long
past nightfall, although the battle itself had lasted just under two
hours.

Then Phil found Al first, for they had fought in the same turret. They
went to look for the younger boys, and came across an agile little chap
with his head done up in bandages, working with a deck-washing crew aft
of Turret Number Three, which had been wrecked by a Hun shell.

"It's Ikey!" shouted Torry. "What's the matter with your head, Ikey?"

"Don't say a word," said Ikey, shaking his bandaged head. "The doc used
all the gauze he had left aboard after binding those up that was really
hurt."

"But you've got some kind of a wound, haven't you?" demanded Whistler.

"Oi, oi! I ought to have, eh? But it's only that boil I had coming on
the back of my neck. You remember? Somehow the head got knocked off of
it and it was bleeding. So the doc grabbed me an