Again came the reproachful voice from above: "Bad shot, take percussion fuses!"
"That's what these are supposed to be," replied the lieutenant in a terrible state of excitement; "the shells are absolutely useless."
"Fire at the forepart of the Satsuma with shrapnel," rang out the command from the wall.
"Shrapnels from below!" ordered the lieutenant, and "shrapnels from below" was repeated by the man at the lift into the 'phone leading to the ammunition chamber.
But the lift continued to bring up the blue armor-piercing shells; five times more and then it stopped.
During a momentary pause in the firing on both sides, the buzzing and whirring of the electric apparatus of the lift could be distinctly heard. Then the lift appeared once more, this time with a red explosive shell.
"Aim at the forepart of the Satsuma, 1950 yards!"
The Connecticut rolled over heavily to starboard, the water splashed over the railing, rushing like a torrent between the turrets; then the ship heeled over to the other side. The shot rang out.
"At last," cried the lieutenant proudly, pointing through the peep-hole. High up in the side of the Satsuma, close to the little 12-cm. quick-firing gun, a piece was seen to be missing when the smoke from the bursting shell had disappeared.
"Good shot," came from above; "go on firing with shrapnel!"