s were in a state of fearful
tension; they had reached the point where nothing matters and where
destruction is looked forward to as a deliverance.

Who was that beside the admiral who said something about the white flag,
to him, the head of the squadron, to the man who had been intrusted with
the honor of the Stars and Stripes? It was only a severely wounded
petty-officer murmuring to himself in the wild delirium of fever. For
God's sake, anything but that! The admiral turned around sharply and
called into the tube leading to the stern turret: "Watch over the flag;
it must not be struck!"

No one answered--dead iron, dead metal, not a human sound could be heard
in that steel tomb. And now some of the electric lights suddenly went
out. "I won't die here in this smoky steel box," said the admiral to
himself; "I won't drown here like a mouse in a trap." There was nothing
more to be done down here anyway, for most of the connections had been
cut off, and so Admiral Perry turned over the command of the
_Connecticut_ to a young lieutenant with the words: "Keep them firing as
long as you can." Then murmuring softly to himself, "It's of no use
anyhow," he crept through a narrow bulkhead-opening to a stairway and
groped his way up step by step. Suddenly he touched something soft and
warm; it groaned loudly. Heavens! it was a sailor who had dragged his
shattered limbs into this corner. "Poor fellow," said the admiral, and
climbed up, solitary and alone, to the deck of his lost ship. The din
of battle sounded louder and louder, and at last he reached the deck
beneath the rear bridge. A badly wounded signalman was leaning against a
bit of railing that had remained standing, staring at the admiral with
vacant eyes. "Are the signal-halyards still clear?" asked Perry. "Yes,"
answered the man feebly.

"Then signal at once: Three cheers for the United States!" The little
colored flags flew up to the yardarm like lightning, and it grew quiet
on the _Connecticut_.

The last shell, the last cartridge was shoved into the breech, one more
shot was aimed at the enemy from the heated barrels, and then all was
still except for the crash of the hostile projectiles, the crackling of
the flames and the howling of the wind. The other side, too, gradually
ceased firing. With the _Satsuma_ and the _Aki_ in the van and the four
other ships following, the enemy's squadron advanced, enveloped in a
thin veil of smoke.

High up in the stern of the