All this time the cruiser had been firing intermittently, and we had not taken much account of the two smaller vessels, who were beginning to gain rapidly. They were torpedo-boat destroyers, and if they got much closer we should have to avow our identity by opening fire.
But suddenly a great cloud of steam burst from the hindmost one, and she began to rock violently.
"She's bust 'er b'iler, sir," said the Quarter-master. "She ain't no more good, anyway. That's one less to reckon with, sir." Evidently something serious had occurred, for the boat swung round in her course, and we could see the men rushing in confusion hither and thither on her decks, while a dense cloud of steam still arose from her funnels.
But the other boat was rapidly gaining.
Leaving Taylor in charge of the bridge, I rushed along aft to the quarter deck. "Are you ready to fire?" I shouted to the captain of the gun.
"Aye, aye, sir," was the cheery response from the man, a grizzled old gunner's mate with a shaggy beard, who had seen service in every corner of the globe—a man of cast-iron nerves, with a fondness for rum and the everlasting piece of spun-yarn tied round his bare big toe.
"Get a good sight on," I said. "Aim low at that torpedo boat coming up astern, and fire when I give you the word. Put on about 1,000 yards, but be sure to aim well down, now!"
The old veteran bent low and carefully over the tiny night sight. "She's coming on beautif'ly, sir," he said. "I've got 'er fixed right amidships. Ready, sir?"
As he spoke the cruiser's search-light accidentally rested full on the torpedo boat. At the same instant a well-directed shot from her bow gun rushed by us, crashing into the woodwork of the bridge behind our backs.
"Fire!" I sang out.