"That's a good one!"

"Down, boys, down!"

"Give her another like the last!"

"Now--we have her!"

The vessels continued to swing around each other in wide circles, and--at this moment--a sixty-eight pound Blakely sh.e.l.l pa.s.sed through the starboard bulwarks of the _Kearsarge_ below the main rigging, exploded on the quarter-deck, and wounded three of the crew of the after pivot-gun. The three unfortunate men were speedily taken below, but the act was done so quietly, that--at the termination of the fight--a large number of the crew were unaware that any of their comrades were injured.

Two shots now crashed through the port-holes occupied by the thirty-two pounders; one exploded in the hammock-netting; the other shrieked through the opposite port; yet no one was hurt. Fire blazed from the deck; the alarm calling for fire-quarters was sounded, and the men who had been detailed for this emergency put it out. The rest stayed at the guns.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE MEN WERE SHOUTING WILDLY, AS EACH PROJECTILE TOOK EFFECT."]

The eleven-inch sh.e.l.ls were doing terrible execution upon the quarter-deck of the _Alabama_. Three of them crashed into the eight-inch pivot-gun port; the first swept off the forward part of the gun's crew; the second killed one man and wounded several others; the third struck the breast of the gun-carriage and spun around on the deck until one of the men picked it up and threw it overboard. The ship was careening heavily to starboard, while the decks were covered with the dead and dying. A sh.e.l.l plunged into the coal bunker and a dense cloud of coal dust arose. Crippled and torn, the hulking privateer began to settle by the stern. Her guns still spat and growled, and her broadsides were going wild. She was fast weakening.

"Any one who silences that after pivot-gun will get one hundred dollars!" cried Captain Semmes, as he saw the fearful accuracy of its fire.

_Crash!_ a whole broadside from the privateer spat at this particular piece. It was in vain.

Around and around circled the belching _Kearsarge_. Seven times she had swooped about the weakening gladiator of the sea, and her fire was more and more accurate. She was like a great eagle closing in for a deaththrust. Captain Semmes was in a desperate situation.

"Hoist the fore-trysail and jibs!" he called out above the din of cannon. "Head for the French coast!"

As the sailors scrambled to obey, the _Alabama_ presented her port battery to the _Kearsarge_. She showed gaping sides and only two guns were bearing.

At this moment the chief engineer came up on the deck of the privateer.

"The fires are all out and the engines will not work!" he reported to Captain Semmes.

The doughty seaman turned to his chief executive officer, Mr. Kell.

"Go below, sir," he shouted, "and see how long the ship can float!"

In a few moments the sailor had returned from his inspection.

"Captain!" cried he, saluting. "She will not stay on the sea for ten minutes."

The face of the Confederate was ashen, as he answered,

"Then, sir, cease firing, shorten sail, and haul down the colors. It will never do in this Nineteenth Century for us to go down with the decks covered with our gallant wounded!"

As he ceased speaking, a broadside roared from the side of his sinking vessel. The ensign of the _Kearsarge_ had been stopped (rolled up and tied with a piece of twine) and, as a sh.e.l.l crashed through her rigging, a piece hit the flag-halyards--parted them--and unstopped the flag. It unfurled itself gallantly in the breeze, and, as its beautiful striping waved aloft, the sailors upon the deck gave a loud cheer, for this was the omen of Victory.

At this moment, two of the junior officers upon the _Alabama_ swore that they would never surrender, and, in a spirit of mutiny, rushed to the two port guns and opened fire upon the Union vessel.

"He is playing us a trick!" shouted Winslow. "Give him another broadside!"

Again the shot and sh.e.l.l went crashing through the sides of the Confederate cruiser. The _Kearsarge_ was laid across her bows for raking, and, in a position to use grape and canister.

A white flag was then shown over the stern of the _Alabama_ and her ensign was half-masted; Union down.

"Cease firing!" shouted Captain Winslow.

The great fight was over. It had lasted one hour and two minutes.

_Chugety, plug, splash!_ The boats were lowered from the _Alabama_, and her Master's mate rowed to the _Kearsarge_, with a few of his wounded.

"We are sinking," said he. "You must come and help us!"

"Does Captain Semmes surrender his ship?" asked Winslow.

"Yes!"

"All right. Then I'll help you!"

Fullam grinned.

"May I return with this boat and crew in order to rescue the drowning?" he asked. "I pledge you my word of honor that I will then come on board and surrender."

Captain Winslow granted his request.

With less generosity, the victorious Commander could have detained the officers and men, supplied their places with his own sailors, and offered equal aid to the distressed. His generosity was abused. Fullam pulled to the midst of the drowning; rescued several officers; went to the yacht _Deerhound_, and cast his boat adrift; leaving a number of men struggling in the water.

The _Alabama_ was settling fast.

"All hands overboard!" cried Mr. Kell. "Let every man grab a life-preserver, or a spar."

As the sailors plunged into the sea, Captain Semmes dropped his sword into the waves and leaped outward, with a life-preserver around his waist. Kell followed, while the _Alabama_ launched her bows high in the air, and--graceful, even in her death throes--plunged stern-foremost into the deep. A sucking eddy of foam, spars, and wreckage marked where once had floated the gallant ship.

Thus sank the terror of the merchantmen--riddled through and through--and no cheer arose as her battered hulk went down in forty-five fathoms of water. Her star had set.

The _Deerhound_ had kept about a mile to windward of the two contestants, but she now steamed towards the ma.s.s of living heads, which dotted the surface of the sea. Her two boats were lowered, and Captain Semmes was picked up and taken aboard, with forty others. She then edged to the leeward and steamed rapidly away.

An officer quickly approached Captain Winslow.

"Better fire a shot at the yacht," he said, saluting. "She's got Captain Semmes aboard and will run off with him."

Winslow smiled.

"It's impossible," said he. "She's simply coming around!"

But the _Deerhound_ kept on.

Another officer approached the commander of the _Kearsarge_.

"That beastly yacht is carrying off our men," said he. "Better bring her to, Captain!"

"No Englishman who carries the flag of the Royal Yacht Squadron can so act!" Winslow replied,--somewhat pettishly. "She's simply coming around."