"They're pumping it into us, sure as you're born!" sang out the old Yankee tar. "Hullo, what's this?"
There was a rush of several gunners across the deck. "Beware of that gun!" yelled one in Russian, and then a stampede followed.
In the midst of the confusion came a fearful explosion from below. A portion of the flooring was ripped apart and one of the gunners was instantly killed and several wounded. A great volume of smoke rolled up, and splinters and bits of iron and steel flew in all directions.
Both Larry and Luke were almost stunned by the explosion and for the moment could do nothing but clutch each other in terror. Both were struck by the flying splinters, but neither was seriously wounded. They staggered back and began to cough, for the dense smoke was strangling.
"Must have been a torpedo" gasped Luke.
"Or else a magazine!" spluttered Larry. "Let—let us get—get out of here. I'm—choking—to—to—death!"
It was really a magazine which had exploded. This tore a good-sized hole in the Pocastra's side, in a spot impossible to get at in the confusion. In the meantime a solid eight-inch shell struck the Russian ship squarely in the stern, doing additional damage
