Almost immediately clouds of black smoke arise and the vessels again advance.
One of them, under forced draught, distances the others in her anxiety to bring her big guns quickly into action.
At all risks I issue from my hole, and gaze at the on-coming warship with feverish eyes, awaiting, without being able to prevent it, another catastrophe.
This vessel, which visibly grows larger as it comes nearer, is a cruiser of about the same tonnage as the one that preceded her.

No flag is flying and I cannot guess her nationality.

She continues steaming at full speed in an effort to pass the zone of danger before other engines can be launched.

But how can she escape them since they will swoop back upon her?
Thomas Roch places himself behind the second trestle as the cruiser passes on to the surface of the abysm in which she will in turn soon be swallowed up.
No sound disturbs the stillness.
Suddenly the rolling of drums and the blare of bugles is heard on board the warship.
I know those bugle calls: they are French bugles! Great God! She is one of the ships of my own country's navy and a French inventor is about to destroy her! No! it shall not be.

I will rush towards Thomas Roch--shout to him that she is a French ship.