Neither could see anything of its enemy save the throbs of fire in the darkness, and the guns were sponged and trained and fired into a dense wall of vapour.

On the poop and the forecastle the marines, in two little red lines, were pouring in their volleys, but neither they nor the seamen-gunners could see what effect their fire was having.

Nor, indeed, could they tell how far they were suffering themselves, for, standing at a gun, one could but hazily see that upon the right and the left.

But above the roar of the cannon came the sharper sound of the piping shot, the crashing of riven planks, and the occasional heavy thud as spar or block came hurtling on to the deck.
The lieutenants paced up and down the line of guns, while Captain Johnson fanned the smoke away with his cocked-hat and peered eagerly out.
"This is rare, Bobby!" said he, as the lieutenant joined him.
Then, suddenly restraining himself, "What have we lost, Mr.Wharton ?" "Our maintopsail yard and our gaff, sir." "Where's the flag ?" "Gone overboard, sir." "They'll think we've struck! Lash a boat's ensign on the starboard arm of the mizzen cross-jack-yard." "Yes, sir." A round-shot dashed the binnacle to pieces between them.

A second knocked two marines into a bloody palpitating mash.