The water at the warship’s stern was blown up.
Shocked, torn and wrecked, the gallant vessel rolled, pitched and tossed furiously.
The torpedo had done its fatal work well.
She began to go down by the stern.
“By heavens!” ejaculated Frank, in tones of intense horror, “those scoundrels purposely lured the frigate upon that marine mine to destroy her.”
“An’ dey done doed it,” groaned Pomp.
“The craft is a wreck!” exclaimed Zamora.
The piratical vessel paused.
A hoarse cheer rose from her crew.
Then a scene of great confusion ensued upon the deck of the warship, for all hands had been mustered to prepare the boats for debarkation.