te and Red.]

"I believe it is the new ram the Pixies have been talking so much about
lately," answered Sergeant True. "They have been trying to keep it a
secret, but the thing has leaked out. It looks like an ugly affair."

"Ugly? I should say so!" said the old salt warmly. "It is nothing but
the cast off shell of a water snail. Call that seamanship? Nobody but a
lubber or a Pixie would be willing to sail or fight in such a tub as
that."

"Well, I'm only a lubber, you know," answered True, "and have but a
landsman's notion of things. But to my mind that ram, or shell, or tub
or whatever it may be, will turn the tide of battle against us if we
don't look out. See! the davids are playing on it from all parts of our
fleet. The shot bounds off its sides like thistle-down. It keeps
straight on its way, like grim Fate, turning neither to the right hand
nor the left. Do you see, Boatswain? the creature is making straight for
us!"

"Aye, aye! let it come on. I say pooh! to all your croaking. Stand by,
now, and see how a genuine sailor can knock the bottom out of all the
floating brass, iron, or snail-shell pots that ever went to sea. Launch
the boats, lads! We'll pull up to this Stygian kettle and see if we
can't find some hole in it through which our cutlasses will make way."

Next to the Ken was the captured Pixie ship Tattle, which had been
turned into the Brownie navy with the new name Praise, and Clearview, as
a reward for his service in saving Rodney's life, had been promoted to
command her. Next to the Praise was the Hope, Commander Fluke. As the
Pixie ram neared the left wing, composed of the three vessels just
named, it suddenly shifted its course and bore straight down upon the
Praise.

"Fire!" cried Clearview. A harmless broadside was poured upon the Ram.

"Again," shouted Clearview. "Aim below the water line; I see an opening
there."

Another broadside was delivered with no better effect. On, on the weird
monster moved, straight toward the ship. Every eye in both fleets was
fixed upon the Praise. Every heart throbbed with anxiety.

Crash!

A groan of dismay ran along the line of the Brownie squadron. A wild
yell of joy rose from the Pixie ships. The solid prow of the ram had
crushed through the leafy side of the Praise, as an iron steamship would
run through a fishing schooner. She sank in a moment leaving her crew
struggling in the waves.

More quickly than one would have thought so clumsy a craft co