“Sire,” said Wahr, hastily, before he had time to form a real hypothesis, “the poor man fired two broadsides in quick succession. An unfortunate mistake of Weiss Nicht—due to his impudence in not awaiting my order to fire. Undoubtedly one of the cannons was underloaded, and its ball travelled so slowly that the ball from an overloaded cannon of the second broadside overtook it—”
“By my mother’s nightcap!” cried Ruhet, in disdain. “Hah!”
“Then it must have collided with one of the balls from the other—er—ship—”
Hier Ruhet actually laughed Wahr to scorn.
“That may have happened,” said Nicht. “Our balls travel slowly.”
The clipping at bow and stern suddenly recommenced.
“She’s at work again!” cried a sailor, in panic.
Indeed, panic was now rife all through the ship.
“Lift me up,” said Ruhet; “I will study this magic at close quarters if I die for it. Be calm, men! You still have Hier Ruhet!”
They lifted him up.