The crew, appalled by the steel hail which now began to pour from the sides of the _Calvo_, became so demoralized at the crisis that heroic measures were necessary. Stanley and Herc drew their revolvers and forced the deserters back to their guns. “I’ll throw the first man who leaves his post to the sharks!” yelled Herc, and, although they couldn’t understand what he said, the crew appeared to comprehend the import of his words. At any rate, they rallied, and began serving the guns once more. Suddenly a loud cheer went up from the bridge of the _Barrill_. A black, gaping hole appeared in the foreworks of the _Calvo_, and two of her guns were silenced. This cheered them hugely. It meant that their fire was taking effect at last. “Close in!” shouted Captain Gomez to the men at the wheel in the conning tower below. The space between the two vessels began to close. Ned at once understood the meaning of these tactics. They were to demolish the _Calvo_ before the other vessel, which was hastening to the rescue, arrived. Thus they would have only one foe to tackle at a time. For a space the two vessels jockeyed, but, deprived of officers as she was, the _Calvo_ was no match for the tricky destroyer at this game. As he found his broadside fairly raking the other’s quarter, the Spanish-American captain gave the word. The range was about two thousand yards, and that tornado of steel was in position to do the most deadly work of which it was capable. Before the few officers remaining on the _Calvo_ could swing her bow on to avoid the full effect of the _Barrill’s_ fire, Stanley and Herc received the signal from the bridge. As the tempest of shell took effect, the _Calvo_ careened, till her underbody showed, and then staggered drunkenly back on an even keel. But she seemed water-logged, and began drifting down on the destroyer. “Hooray! we’ve smashed her steam steering gear!” yelled Ned, half crazy with excitement. But, crippled as she was, the _Calvo_ could still fight. Suddenly two bright flashes showed at her midship section, and a couple of six-inch projectiles shrieked toward the _Barrill_. The bridge was carried half away before they could stir. Ned caught Midshipman Stark as the young officer was hurled back against him. Captain Gomez stood grimly at the engine-room telegraph, which, luckily, had not been carried away. Nor, by good fortune, had the range-finder and fire-control instruments. At the same instant as the _Calvo’s_ shell shrieked its way through one end of the destroyer’s little bridge the other missile from the same vessel carried away the canvas forward funnel. The little destroyer stood revealed in her true colors. An instant’s glance served to show that the midshipman was not seriously wounded. A deep cut on his head from a steel splinter was his only injury. But it had temporarily disabled him, and two sailors carried him to the small cabin, in which the surgeon had established himself.