"Abandon ship, sir!"
Without an instant's hesitation the commanding officer reached up over his bed, pulling down a brass lever with a violent jerk.
Gongs began to crash all over the ship, from the stoke hole to the navigating bridge.
"Abandon ship!" bellowed boatswain's mates and masters-at-arms. "Abandon ship!" sang voices in the forecastle, the cry being taken up from lip to lip from one end to the other of the great battleship.
Men tumbled from their hammocks, and, without waiting to pull on their clothes, dashed for the open decks. From far below black-faced stokers ran up the companion ladders and burst out on the topside.
"Man the lifeboats! Everything overboard!" sang an officer through a megaphone.
The signal gongs were clanging automatically all through the ship. They would continue to do so for full five minutes, giving no excuse for any one to be left on board. Boats and rafts were going over at a rapid rate, the great cranes swinging out the heavier boats with speed and precision. Most of the men were working coolly while others—the newer men on board—were showing signs of excitement.
A red-haired boy came dashing up to the top of the superstructure.
"What's the matter—what's the matter?" he shouted.
"Oh, the ship's on fire," answered some one.