Boom!
Young Glory had been almost ready to fire as Captain Long spoke to him. Now he did so.
"A hit!" cried the man. "A hit!"
"A knock-out blow!" shouted Dan, excitedly. "It's yourself won't come up to time."
The wind blew the thick smoke away for a few minutes, and when it was clear all eyes were fixed on the Spanish cruiser. It was seen at once that Young Glory's last shot had been successful.
The barbette was smashed.
The eight-inch gun of the Nashville had sent a shot right against it. Confusion reigned on the cruiser. Men were running hither and thither. They were carrying off the wounded, and others, hastily summoned from below, machinists, carpenters and the like, were busily engaged in trying to make good the damage.
"Ye may work yer hardest," said Dan, shaking his fist at the enemy, "but it's that gun won't bark any more this blessed day."
"You never said a truer word, Dan!" exclaimed Captain Long, merrily.
Young Glory's shot had put him in a good humor.