t came another crash on deck. The
_Pocastra_ shivered and heaved, and to those below it was as if she
would surely sink.

"They're pumping it into us, sure as you're born!" sang out the old
Yankee tar. "Hullo, what's this?"

There was a rush of several gunners across the deck. "Beware of that
gun!" yelled one in Russian, and then a stampede followed.

In the midst of the confusion came a fearful explosion from below. A
portion of the flooring was ripped apart and one of the gunners was
instantly killed and several wounded. A great volume of smoke rolled up,
and splinters and bits of iron and steel flew in all directions.

Both Larry and Luke were almost stunned by the explosion and for the
moment could do nothing but clutch each other in terror. Both were
struck by the flying splinters, but neither was seriously wounded. They
staggered back and began to cough, for the dense smoke was strangling.

"Must have been a torpedo----" gasped Luke.

"Or else a magazine!" spluttered Larry. "Let--let us get--get out of
here. I'm--choking--to--to--death!"

It was really a magazine which had exploded. This tore a good-sized hole
in the _Pocastra's_ side, in a spot impossible to get at in the
confusion. In the meantime a solid eight-inch shell struck the Russian
ship squarely in the stern, doing additional damage and killing and
wounding two officers and nine men.

Almost choked to death, Larry and Luke crawled to where the ladder ran
to the deck. The Russian jackies and gunners were swarming up, along
with all the prisoners.

"Larry, are you safe?" came in the voice of Captain Ponsberry, and he
loomed up, with Tom Grandon, Cal Vincent, and the Chinese petty officer
beside him.

"So far I am," answered Larry. "But I--I--must have air!" and he began
to cough.

The jam on the ladder was terrific, and in the midst of the _melee_ a
Russian gunner and the Chinese petty officer got into a quarrel. The
gunner threw the Celestial down, but he bounced up like a ball, and in a
twinkling the Russian received a blow in the stomach which sent him
staggering back into the crowd and the deadly smoke.

"No knock me up the spout!" sang out the Celestial. "Ship go down I go
uppee!" And soon he was out on the upper deck.

Fighting, surging, pushing, and yelling the Russians and our friends got
to the deck at last. Captain Ponsberry had his coat literally ripped
from his back, and Cal Vincent had an arm almost torn from its socket.
For