"Mr.Comly, try to disable her.

Make every shot tell if possible." Again and again the six-pounder hurled its messenger of destruction, but apparently without effect.
"Looks as though I couldn't hit the side of a barn at a hundred feet," muttered the Ensign to Ridge, who stood beside him, thrilled by the novel experience.

Then he sighted his gun for a third shot, sprang back, and jerked the lanyard.

A flash, a roar, a choking cloud of smoke, and then a yell from the _Speedy's_ crew.

In the glare of the search-light the fugitive steamer was seen to take a sudden sheer, that a minute later was followed by a crash, and then she remained motionless.
Instantly the _Speedy_ was slowed down and moved cautiously towards the wreck, with busy lead marking soundings every few seconds.