"Ah! I can see how it happened," said the old sailor, after a cursory inspection of the fractured portion. "The gun was strong enough at the breech, but went at the muzzle. It has given way, of course, at its weakest point." "Yes," agreed the young lieutenant. "It has parted just here, where the last protecting coil of steel has been shrunk on; the tube of the gun has burst at this unprotected portion of it, right in front of the chase." "What's the reason, sir," asked Bob, "of its bursting there like that?" "I suppose because the metal was unable to withstand the strain of the powder charge," said the Captain. "So, Bob, it went!" "Pardon me, but I don't think you've got it quite right, sir," observed the lieutenant apologetically. "The gun was strong enough for the old `pebble powder' it was originally intended to be fired with, the force of whose explosion would have been expended in the breech, which you can't say is weak?" "No," asserted the other, "the gun seems strong enough there." "Well, that being the case," continued the young officer, "the gun might have been fired as many times as you please with the heaviest charges of that powder without its sustaining the slightest injury. Our wise Ordnance people, however, having taken a fancy to a `slow combustion powder,' whose force, instead of being expended in the breech, is sustained throughout the whole length of the gun, as the particles of powder ignite and expand, bethought themselves they would, for cheapness' sake, use this `cocoa powder,' as it is called, without going to the expense of building additional coils round their heavy guns to enable them to resist the extra strain!" "So this is the result," said the old Captain. "It's just like putting new wine into old bottles!" "Precisely," replied the lieutenant, joining in his laugh. "But, don't you feel hungry, Captain Dresser?" "I do," he promptly rejoined. "This sea air give; one the very deuce of an appetite; and I confess to feeling slightly peckish." "So am I," said the other, leading the way to the nearest hatchway. "Let us go down below and see what they've got for luncheon. Mind how you step, it's all dark here, as they haven't fitted her up yet." "That's plain enough as I can feel!" muttered the Captain in reply as he stumbled against the projecting ledge of one of the watertight bulkheads, knocking his shin. "These new-fashioned ships are all at odds and ends, it seems to me, in their accommodation below. Give me one of the old sort, where everything was really plain sailing and one hadn't to dive down here and climb up there to get for'ard or aft!" "Ah," rejoined the lieutenant, holding out a hand to guide him, "you'd get used to it in time." "Just as the eels do to skinning!" growled the Captain, rubbing his sore shins. "I'd rather be excused the practice, though, on my part."