re-quarters was sounded, and
the men who had been detailed for this emergency put it out. The rest
stayed at the guns.

[Illustration: "THE MEN WERE SHOUTING WILDLY, AS EACH PROJECTILE TOOK
EFFECT."]

The eleven-inch shells were doing terrible execution upon the
quarter-deck of the _Alabama_. Three of them crashed into the
eight-inch pivot-gun port; the first swept off the forward part of
the gun's crew; the second killed one man and wounded several others;
the third struck the breast of the gun-carriage and spun around on the
deck until one of the men picked it up and threw it overboard. The
ship was careening heavily to starboard, while the decks were covered
with the dead and dying. A shell plunged into the coal bunker and a
dense cloud of coal dust arose. Crippled and torn, the hulking
privateer began to settle by the stern. Her guns still spat and
growled, and her broadsides were going wild. She was fast weakening.

"Any one who silences that after pivot-gun will get one hundred
dollars!" cried Captain Semmes, as he saw the fearful accuracy of its
fire.

_Crash!_ a whole broadside from the privateer spat at this particular
piece. It was in vain.

Around and around circled the belching _Kearsarge_. Seven times she
had swooped about the weakening gladiator of the sea, and her fire was
more and more accurate. She was like a great eagle closing in for a
deaththrust. Captain Semmes was in a desperate situation.

"Hoist the fore-trysail and jibs!" he called out above the din of
cannon. "Head for the French coast!"

As the sailors scrambled to obey, the _Alabama_ presented her port
battery to the _Kearsarge_. She showed gaping sides and only two guns
were bearing.

At this moment the chief engineer came up on the deck of the
privateer.

"The fires are all out and the engines will not work!" he reported to
Captain Semmes.

The doughty seaman turned to his chief executive officer, Mr. Kell.

"Go below, sir," he shouted, "and see how long the ship can float!"

In a few moments the sailor had returned from his inspection.

"Captain!" cried he, saluting. "She will not stay on the sea for ten
minutes."

The face of the Confederate was ashen, as he answered,

"Then, sir, cease firing, shorten sail, and haul down the colors. It
will never do in this Nineteenth Century for us to go down with the
decks covered with our gallant wounded!"

As he ceased speaking, a broadside roared from the side of his sinking
v