A second later the boom of the Idaho's gun sounded.
Another miss.
"The Manhattan wins the meat ball!" shouted some jackie far back in the throng of anxious-faced, pallid men.
"Stow that, you lummox!" growled old Tom, and his admonition was echoed angrily by a dozen tars. It would have fared hard with that jackie if they could have laid hands on him.
The minutes rolled by and still there came no sign from within the turret.
An ensign, despatched below by the captain, had reported that not a single spark had dropped down the hoist.
"Gentlemen, that means that there was a hero in that turret!" exclaimed the captain. "Before death came he closed those doors and in all probability saved the ship."
The others nodded. It was not a situation in which words seemed appropriate.
From the turret ventilators little smoke was now issuing. If any of the four men inside that steel-walled trap remained alive, they stood a fighting chance now.