t work," roared back the
lieutenant. Then he went down into the turret and examined the new shell
on the lift before it was pushed into the breech.

"All right," he said aloud, but added under his breath, suppressing an
oath: "We mustn't let the men notice there's anything wrong, for the
world!"

Another shot rang out, and again the shell burst a few hundred yards
from the _Connecticut_, sending the water flying in every direction.

Again came the reproachful voice from above: "Bad shot, take percussion
fuses!"

"That's what these are supposed to be," replied the lieutenant in a
terrible state of excitement; "the shells are absolutely useless."

"Fire at the forepart of the _Satsuma_ with shrapnel," rang out the
command from the wall.

"Shrapnels from below!" ordered the lieutenant, and "shrapnels from
below" was repeated by the man at the lift into the 'phone leading to
the ammunition chamber.

But the lift continued to bring up the blue armor-piercing shells; five
times more and then it stopped.

During a momentary pause in the firing on both sides, the buzzing and
whirring of the electric apparatus of the lift could be distinctly
heard. Then the lift appeared once more, this time with a red explosive
shell.

"Aim at the forepart of the _Satsuma_, 1950 yards!"

The _Connecticut_ rolled over heavily to starboard, the water splashed
over the railing, rushing like a torrent between the turrets; then the
ship heeled over to the other side. The shot rang out.

"At last," cried the lieutenant proudly, pointing through the peep-hole.
High up in the side of the _Satsuma_, close to the little 12-cm.
quick-firing gun, a piece was seen to be missing when the smoke from the
bursting shell had disappeared.

"Good shot," came from above; "go on firing with shrapnel!"

The distance-register silently showed the number 1850. Then came a
deafening roar from below and the sharp ring of tearing iron. A hostile
shell had passed obliquely below the turret into the forepart of the
_Connecticut_, and clouds of thick black smoke completely obscured the
view through the peep-hole.

"Four degrees higher!" commanded the lieutenant.

"Not yet correct," he grumbled; "three degrees higher still!" He waited
for the _Connecticut_ to roll to port.

"What's the matter?"

"Use higher elevation in turrets. The _Connecticut_ has a leak and is
listing to starboard," said the telephone. "Three degrees higher!"
ordered the lieutenant.