This, as Wahr now began to suspect only too well, was an impossible commission. But with his well-known sycophancy he said, “So you shall, sire.” All the admiral answered was: “And then we’ll try for the soup-spring and have something to eat—where do you suppose it is?—and put new ends on the ship—” forgetting that there was nothing more in sight now than there had been for a long time. However, while Wahr was manœuvring the ship, in her crippled condition, to bring her broadside to the little craft, the clipping went on at stern and bow until the water began to enter in a disquieting stream. Ruhet ransacked for the fiftieth time a locker on deck about the mizzen-mast for some cake which had once been there. The ship would not come about. Wahr had nearly decided to become sufficiently humble, in the absence of Nicht, to go on his knees and confess his first failure to the admiral, and then his apparent wisdom but real ignorance, when, to his surprise and delight, the little craft, seeming to apprehend his intention, put herself exactly in the best position for the broadside. “My luck never deserts me,” muttered Wahr, “even in such a dinked”—he loved to do and say the things his master did—“distressful time as this. I’ll sink her yet. Now,” he cried to Weiss Nicht, so that the admiral might hear, “I have made everything ready for you. Get your broadside off!” “And, on your life, don’t miss her!” added Ruhet. The impudent Weiss Nicht knew Wahr well enough to be ready, and, on the instant, the broadside roared. When the smoke cleared, the green craft had disappeared. “By my uncle’s—” No one will ever know what wisdom the admiral would have uttered; for, at that moment, the little thing reappeared, as Weiss Nicht had anticipated, on the other side of the ship, and he had made ready for her in order to affront Nicht Wahr. “The starboard broadside!” he cried impudently, without waiting for Nicht Wahr’s order. “Fire!” With the accuracy of all their practice this one went as the rest had gone—harmlessly into the sea. The boat had dived once more. And Nicht had seen her do it! This was Weiss Nicht’s final test. It had been conceived and executed magnificently and scientifically, and it had failed. He went on deck, and with powder-blackened face made the following report: “Sire, it cannot be done. And the sooner we get out of the vicinity of that machine, the more of this ship will be left. I _saw_ it _dive_!” But at that moment he noticed that he was speaking to Wahr and not Ruhet. “Where is the admiral, sir?” he asked. “I thought _you_ were he,” said Wahr, with the evidence of guilt in his face. “And I thought you were he,” cried the gunner’s mate, bravely. “Where can he be?” said both. Both were answered immediately by a groan from the middle of the ship—which sounded profane. They found Ruhet there with a broken leg. “Who broke my leg?” demanded Ruhet, savagely. “Not I,” said Wahr. “Nor me,” said Nicht.