"Ugly? I should say so!" said the old salt warmly. "It is nothing but the cast off shell of a water snail. Call that seamanship? Nobody but a lubber or a Pixie would be willing to sail or fight in such a tub as that." "Well, I'm only a lubber, you know," answered True, "and have but a landsman's notion of things. But to my mind that ram, or shell, or tub or whatever it may be, will turn the tide of battle against us if we don't look out. See! the davids are playing on it from all parts of our fleet. The shot bounds off its sides like thistle-down. It keeps straight on its way, like grim Fate, turning neither to the right hand nor the left. Do you see, Boatswain? the creature is making straight for us!" "Aye, aye! let it come on. I say pooh! to all your croaking. Stand by, now, and see how a genuine sailor can knock the bottom out of all the floating brass, iron, or snail-shell pots that ever went to sea. Launch the boats, lads! We'll pull up to this Stygian kettle and see if we can't find some hole in it through which our cutlasses will make way." Next to the Ken was the captured Pixie ship Tattle, which had been turned into the Brownie navy with the new name Praise, and Clearview, as a reward for his service in saving Rodney's life, had been promoted to command her. Next to the Praise was the Hope, Commander Fluke. As the Pixie ram neared the left wing, composed of the three vessels just named, it suddenly shifted its course and bore straight down upon the Praise. "Fire!" cried Clearview. A harmless broadside was poured upon the Ram. "Again," shouted Clearview. "Aim below the water line; I see an opening there." Another broadside was delivered with no better effect. On, on the weird monster moved, straight toward the ship. Every eye in both fleets was fixed upon the Praise. Every heart throbbed with anxiety. Crash! A groan of dismay ran along the line of the Brownie squadron. A wild yell of joy rose from the Pixie ships. The solid prow of the ram had crushed through the leafy side of the Praise, as an iron steamship would run through a fishing schooner. She sank in a moment leaving her crew struggling in the waves. More quickly than one would have thought so clumsy a craft could move, the Ram turned and bore down upon the Hope. The Natties aboard this ship were dismayed at the fate of their comrades, but not a man swerved from his post. "Boarders, ahoy!" shouted Fluke. "Aye, aye, Sir!" "Prepare to board the enemy. Drop from the cross-trees. Spring from the deck. Heave the grapnels if you can." Brave but hopeless struggle! The Ram crushed into the Hope as into the Praise. A few of the Natties succeeded in leaping upon the smooth round turret of the enemy, only to roll off again into the lake, and be engulfed in the vortex of their sinking ship.