In the midst of the confusion came a fearful explosion from below. A portion of the flooring was ripped apart and one of the gunners was instantly killed and several wounded. A great volume of smoke rolled up, and splinters and bits of iron and steel flew in all directions.
Both Larry and Luke were almost stunned by the explosion and for the moment could do nothing but clutch each other in terror. Both were struck by the flying splinters, but neither was seriously wounded. They staggered back and began to cough, for the dense smoke was strangling.
"Must have been a torpedo——" gasped Luke.
"Or else a magazine!" spluttered Larry. "Let—let us get—get out of here. I'm—choking—to—to—death!"
It was really a magazine which had exploded. This tore a good-sized hole in the Pocastra's side, in a spot impossible to get at in the confusion. In the meantime a solid eight-inch shell struck the Russian ship squarely in the stern, doing additional damage and killing and wounding two officers and nine men.
Almost choked to death, Larry and Luke crawled to where the ladder ran to the deck. The Russian jackies and gunners were swarming up, along with all the prisoners.
"Larry, are you safe?" came in the voice of Captain Ponsberry, and he loomed up, with Tom Grandon, Cal Vincent, and the Chinese petty officer beside him.
"So far I am," answered Larry. "But I—I—must have air!" and he began to cough.
The jam on the ladder was terrific, and in the midst of the mêlée a Russian gunner and the Chinese petty officer got into a quarrel. The gunner threw the Celestial down, but he bounced up like a ball, and in a twinkling the Russian received a blow in the stomach which sent him staggering back into the crowd and the deadly smoke.
"No knock me up the spout!" sang out the Celestial. "Ship go down I go uppee!" And soon he was out on the upper deck.