w therefore ordered some of the watertight
compartments aft to be filled with water in order to restore the ship's
balance. Similar conditions were reported from other ships.

But scarcely had this damage been thus fairly well adjusted, when a new
misfortune was reported. Two Japanese projectiles had struck the ship
simultaneously just below her narrow armor-belt as she heaved over to
port, the shells entering the unprotected side just in front of the
engine-rooms, and as the adjacent bulkheads could not offer sufficient
resistance to the pressure of the inpouring water, they were forced in,
and as a result the _Connecticut_ heeled over badly to starboard, making
it necessary to fill some of the port compartments with water, since the
guns could not otherwise obtain the required elevation. This caused the
ship to sink deeper and deeper, until the armor-belt was entirely below
the standard waterline and the water which had rushed in through the
many holes had already reached the passageways above the armored deck.
The splashing about in these rushing floods, the continual bursting of
the enemy's shells, the groans and moans of the wounded, and the vain
attempts to get out the collision-mats on the starboard
side--precautions that savored of preservation measures while at the
same time causing a great loss of life--all this began to impair the
crew's powers of resistance.

As the reports from below grew more and more discouraging, Captain
Farlow sent Lieutenant Meade down to examine into the state of the
chambers above the armored deck. The latter asked his comrade, Curtis,
to take his place at the telephone, but receiving no answer, he looked
around, and saw poor Curtis with his face torn off by a piece of shell
still bending over his telephone between two dead signalmen....
Lieutenant Meade turned away with a shiver, and, calling a midshipman to
take his place, he left the conning-tower, which was being struck
continually by hissing splinters from bursting shells.

Everywhere below the same picture presented itself--rushing water
splashing high up against the walls in all the passages, through which
ambulance transports were making their way with difficulty. In a corner
not far from the staircase leading to the hospital lay a young
midshipman, Malion by name, pressing both hands against a gaping wound
in his abdomen, out of which the viscera protruded, and crying to some
one to put him out of his misery with a bullet.