Imagine these things, and then understand that this gun, made to be
turned against an enemy, has now turned against its workers. In the
bore, pent in by the polished breechblock, is a cartridge which has
failed in its duty. It is apparently defective.

The tide of battle is surging on; other ships of the bombarding fleet
are still pouring their shot and shell upon the grim array of forts
ashore; other guns of this ship are pursuing their duty with savage
energy. But this gun is silent.

The men wax impatient. It is the height of the conflict. Many shots have
been fired, and many more will yet be required to subdue the enemy. To
be "out of action" will mean passiveness in the face of the enemy.
Anything but that.

There is a rivalry between the guns' crews. It is a rivalry as to which
shall make the best shots and create the most damage. The members of
Number Eight--the after gun on the port side--are proud of their record.
Their second captain--he whom they call "Hay"--has received the public
commendation of the captain himself, sent down from the bridge in the
midst of the battle. It is a mark of distinction not given freely, and
Number Eight is eager for more honors.

But the men have not forgotten a similar case, occurring on the voyage
down the coast, when another cartridge failed, and on being extracted
from the breech chamber, exploded, killing a marine corporal and
wounding others.

The men of Number Eight have not forgotten that tragedy, and that is why