A hoarse cheer came from a nearby ship, proclaiming the landing of some
favored shot.

"Hurry, fellows," shouted "Hay" in an ecstasy of impatience. "Lively
there; we're missing all the sport."


CHAPTER XI.

A PERILOUS MOMENT.

The scene on the gun deck of the "Yankee" at that moment would have made
an eloquent subject for the brush of a Meissonier. It was the deck of a
warship in battle, and the spectacle enacted was accompanied, by an
orchestra of the mighty guns of a fleet in action.

Imagine a compartment of steel, a compartment filled with smoke that
surged and eddied as the ship lunged forward or rolled upon a heavy
swell.

Imagine scattered about in this pungent vapor many groups of men, men
half-naked, perspiring; their glistening bodies smeared and stained with
the grime of conflict.

Imagine in the centre of one of these groups a wicked, menacing gun--a
five-inch breechloader, its long, lean barrel raised shoulder-high upon
the apex of a conical gun-mount, near the base of which are significant
wooden cases, some empty and others filled with elongated, formidable
cartridges; and pails of black, dirty water ascum with powder; and other
objects each significant of war.