So they were. We could see the men swarming on her quarterdeck and the awning coming off her. I felt all shivery again, and heard the Gunlayer sing out from inside the turret, ’The longer they take about it the farther the sun’ll be up, and it won’t get in my bloomin’ eyes so much.’ ’It seems a shame to go killing people a morning like this, doesn’t it?’ Mr. Bigge muttered to himself, and I jolly well agreed with him. We were buzzing along finely now, and could feel the ship shaking and throbbing. The ’Angel’ was still at the range finder, and our indicator showed 6250, when suddenly the big ship turned again—she was going at a tremendous speed—and—oh, it made my backbone feel cold—made straight for the entrance and El Castellan. We still had our signal ’Stop Engines’ flying, but there wasn’t the least doubt now that she was simply going to rush past us. Clatter, clatter, came the signalmen down from the fore bridge to take shelter, everybody disappeared into their turrets, popping down the sighting-hoods like rabbits, the Captain and the Navigator came down and clambered through the top of the conning-tower, the ’Forlorn Hope,’ with a grimace at me, squeezed himself into his turret and closed the armoured door, and, with my heart in my mouth, I wriggled down into mine. [Illustration: The big ship turned again] ’Aren’t you coming, sir?’ I asked Mr. Bigge, but he shook his head. I felt a little safer inside there, and stood watching the range indicator. It was simply altering every few seconds—5400—5300—5200—there was no time to show the fifties. Mr. Bigge sang out for me—he wanted to know something—and I popped my head out again and couldn’t see the ship—she had slanted away a little, to pass along our port side—but I just caught sight of Billums sitting on the back part of the top of his turret, on the fo’c’stle, with his knees drawn up to his chin, resting his field-glasses on them. You couldn’t hear a sound anywhere—except that escaping steam—and then the gong inside the turret began sounding the ’stand by’—the next time it sounded it would mean we had to fire. The able seaman at the telephone sang out, ’The port battery’s just got the order to fire, sir,’ I almost fell down inside the turret again, and then the whole of our guns that could bear on the port beam fired, and some of them had time to fire again before we heard the roaring ’clap’ and the crash of the shells bursting against the big ship’s side. The range indicator showed 3200 yards, and we couldn’t miss her very easily at so short a distance. She was passing down our port side and going in the opposite direction, so that we had to circle round to follow her, and I knew that the starboard turrets would then come into action.