vulnerable parts, and,
exploding inside, killed men and dismounted guns. The groans of the
stricken, the crash of steel against steel, the roar of the
turret-guns, the rattling chorus of quick-fire rifles, and the drumming
of heavy shells against the armor and turrets made an uproarious riot
of sound over which no man above the water-line could lift his voice.
But there were some there, besides the dead,--men who worked through
and survived the action,--who, after the first impact of sound, did not
hear it, nor anything else while they lived. They were the men who had
neglected stuffing their ears with cotton.

A fundamental canon of naval tactics is to maintain formation. Another
is to keep moving, at the full speed of the slowest ship, not only to
disconcert the enemy's fire, but to obtain and hold the most
advantageous position--if possible, to flank him. As these rules apply
equally well to both sides, it is obvious that two fleets, passing in
opposite directions, and each trying to flank the rear of the other,
will eventually circle around a common center; and if the effort to
improve position dominates the effort to evade fire, this circle will
narrow until the battle becomes a melee.

The two lines, a mile apart and each about a mile in length, were
squarely abreast in less than five minutes from the time of firing the
first gun; and by now the furious bombardment of the _Argyll_ by eight
ships had ceased, for each one found it more profitable to deal with
its vis-a-vis. But there was yet a deafening racket in the _Argyll's_
conning-tower as small projectiles from the rear battle-ship abreast
impinged on its steel walls; and Captain Blake, his ears ringing, his
eyes streaming, half stunned by the noise, almost blinded and
suffocated by the smoke from his forward guns, did not know that his
ship had dropped back in the line until the signal-officer descended
and shouted in his ear an order signaled from the admiral: "Move ahead
to position."

"Hang the man who invented conning-towers," he muttered angrily. "Keep
a lookout up there, Mr. Wright," he shouted; "I can see very little."

The officer half saluted, half nodded, and ran up the stair, while
Captain Blake rang "full speed" to the engines. The indicators on the
wall showed increased revolution, and he resumed his place at the
peep-hole. In a few moments Mr. Wright reappeared with a message from
the flag-ship to "starboard helm; follow ship ahead."

"Al