not so large.

Forgetting Poole for the moment, he passed right round to the breech,
thrust in his hand, which came in contact with the solid block, and then
withdrawing his hand he seized hold of the great balls, gave them a
wrench, and in perfect silence the heavy mass of forged and polished
steel began to turn, the well-oiled grooves and worm gliding together
without a sound, and, after the first tug, with the greatest ease.

It was all simple enough till he came to the final part of his task, and
attempted to lift out the breech-block, the quoin that when the breech
was screwed up held all fast.

He took hold and tried to lift, but tried in vain, for it seemed beyond
his strength. His teeth gritted together as he set them fast in his
exasperation against Poole for not being at hand to help and make what
now seemed an impossibility an easy task.

Perspiring at every pore, he tried again and again, the more eagerly
now, for a low growling voice was heard from the direction whence he had
crawled.

But the piece of steel was immovable, and in his despair he felt that
all was over and that he had failed.

Then came light--not light to make the gun visible, but mental light,
with the question, Had he turned the levers far enough?

Uttering a low gasp in his despair, for the growling talk grew louder,
he seized the great balls again, gave them another turn or two, and once
more tried to stir the block, when his heart seemed to give a great
jump, for it came right out as he exerted himself, with comparative
ease, and directly after he had it hugged to his chest and was
staggering and nearly falling headlong as he stepped down from the iron
platform, making for the side. But he recovered himself, tottering on,
and then in the darkness kicking against something soft--a sleeper--the
encounter sending him, top-heavy as he was, crash against the bulwark,
but doing all that he wanted, for the breech-block struck against the
rail, glanced off, and went overboard, to fall with a tremendous splash,
followed by another, which the middy made himself, as he half flung
himself over, half rolled from the rail, to go down with the water
thundering in his ears.

The heaviness of his plunge naturally sent him below for some distance,
but it was not long before he was rising again.

It was long enough, though, for thought--and thoughts come quickly at a
time like this. Fitz's first flash was a brilliant one, connected with
his