The boy returned to his gun to find Caleb and the others in deep perplexity. Something was wrong with a shell, and it had become wedged in the gun and could not be pushed forward to its proper place or hauled back. "We can't use Polly any more!" groaned Caleb. "I'll fix her!" cried Si Doring, and caught up a rammer. In a moment the brave Yankee lad was crawling out over the smoking piece toward the muzzle. But he had scarcely reached the outward end of the gun than the _Brooklyn_ gave a lurch and down he slipped over the side and into space! CHAPTER XXX FINAL SCENES OF THE GREAT FIGHT "Si has fallen overboard!" The cry came from half a dozen throats at once, and Walter's heart almost stopped beating, so attached had he become to the Yankee lad. "If he's overboard, he'll be sucked under and drowned," he groaned. "I wonder if I can see anything of him." Without a second thought he leaped on the gun and began to crawl out, on hands and knees, as perilous a thing to do, with the vessel going at full speed, as one would care to undertake. "Come back!" roared Caleb, trying to detain him. "You'll go overboard, too." At that moment came a cry from below, and looking down the steel side of the _Brooklyn_, Walter beheld Si clinging to a rope ladder, one of several flung over, to be used in case of emergency. "Si, are you all right?" he called loudly. "I--reckon--I--I am," came with a pant. "But I had an awful tumble and the wind is about knocked out o' me." And then Si began to climb up to the deck. "He's on the ladder and he's all right," shouted Walter, to those still behind the gun. Then a sudden idea struck him. "Hand me another rammer, Stuben." "Mine cracious! don't you try dot," cried the hose-man. "You vos fall ofer chust like Si." "Yes, come in here," put in Caleb, and Paul also called upon him to return. "I'm all right," was the boy's reply. "Give it to me, Stuben." And catching the rammer from the hose-man, Steve Colton passed it forward. "In war we have got to take some risks," he reasoned, as Caleb gave him a severe look. "Then why didn't you get out on the gun, Steve?" was the old gunner's dry response; and the second gun captain said no more. Rammer in hand, Walter edged closer and closer to the muzzle of the Polly. The _Brooklyn_ was moving up and down over the long green waves, sending the spray flying on both sides of the bow. He gave one look down, felt himself growing dizzy, and then kept his eyes on the gun. [Illustration: RAMMER IN HAND, WALTER EDGED CLOSE TO THE MUZZLE.] At last the muzzle was gained, and not without difficulty the rammer was inserted. The projectile had not been very tightly wedged, and a firm pressure sent it backward, so that Caleb could catch it and pull it out through the breech. Then throwing the rammer aboard, Walter lost no time in coming in again. He had been exposed to the direct fire of the enemy, but no shot had come near him.