"My head sings, and my shoulder aches, but I shall do well enough.
Please get me lifted up on to that seat by the bulwark, so that I can
look over and see what is going on."

"I don't think you are strong enough to sit up, Cyril."

"Oh, yes I am; besides, I can lean against the bulwark."

Cyril was placed in the position he wanted, and, leaning his arm on
the bulwark and resting his head on it, was able to see what was
passing.

Suddenly a tremendous explosion was heard a quarter of a mile away.

"The Dutch admiral's ship has blown up," one of the men aloft
shouted, and a loud cheer broke from the crew.

It was true. The Duke of York in the _Royal Charles_, of eighty
guns, and the _Eendracht_, of eighty-four, the flagship of Admiral
Obdam, had met and engaged each other fiercely. For a time the
Dutchmen had the best of it. A single shot killed the Earl of
Falmouth, Lord Muskerry, and Mr. Boyle, three gentlemen Volunteers,
who at the moment were standing close to the Duke, and the _Royal
Charles_ suffered heavily until a shot from one of her guns struck
the Dutchman's magazine, and the _Eendracht_ blew up, only five men
being rescued out of the five hundred that were on board of her.

This accident in no small degree decided the issue of the engagement,
for the Dutch at once fell into confusion. Four of their ships, a few