The Sylph had come about, and now poured a broadside into the enemy.
Then, from the distance, more than a mile across the water, came the sound of many guns. The German cruisers Breslau and Goeben were returning the fire.
Shells, dropping in front, behind and on all sides of the Sylph threw up the water in mighty geysers, as if it were a typhoon that surrounded the little vessel. Shells screamed overhead, but none found its mark.
All this time the vessels were drawing closer and closer together. Now, as the little scout cruiser rose on a huge swell, a single shock shook the vessel and a British shell sped true.
A portion of the Breslau's superstructure toppled; a second later and the faint sound of a crash was carried over the water to the Sylph.
"A hit!" cried Jack again.
A loud British cheer rose above the sound of battle, and the gunners, well pleased with their marksmanship, turned again to their work with renewed vigor.
"Lieutenant Templeton on the bridge!" came the command, and Jack hastened to report to Lord Hastings.
"What do you make of that last shot, Mr. Templeton?" demanded the commander of the Sylph. "Is the enemy seriously crippled, would you say?"
"No sir," replied Jack. "I think not. You may see that the wreckage has already been cleared away, and the enemy is still plugging away at us."