"Too late, by George!" exclaimed Drake, slamming his binoculars into their case.
"They've settled her hash, and we're out of it."
For another half-hour the Cerberus carried on. All need for screened lights was now done away with, and from her masthead her signalling lamp blinked incessantly, calling up the victorious vessel in Morse. Still no reply came through the darkness.
"Surely to goodness they haven't sunk each other?" asked one of the lieutenants.
"Rot!" replied another, vehemently. But at the same time the idea that such was the case began to grow upon the group of anxious and despondent officers.
Suddenly a rocket soared skywards, barely a mile on the scout's brow.
"Acknowledge," ordered the captain, shortly; and from the Cerberus an answering rocket was sent up.
Then the searchlights were flashed in the direction of the signal, and to everyone's surprise two huge cruisers, both well-nigh battered out of recognition, were discovered lying less than half-a-mile apart. Masts, funnels, boats, most of the unarmoured superstructure—all had been swept away, while the heavily protected sides of both craft showed ominous dents and cavities where armour-piercing shells had found a billet.
"Great Scott!" muttered the gunnery lieutenant. "Which one is the Impregnable that was?"
"Neither," replied Drake, grimly. "There's been a horrible mistake without a doubt. Goodness knows what ships these are, or to what nation they belong; but it is obvious that each has mistaken the other for the pirate."