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Ahead of her, and turning to port, was the flag-ship Obdorsk, also slowed down; but she promised to be fully occupied with the Atholl, Sutherland, and Montrose, who had wheeled in their tracks, no longer obliged to traverse a circle to reach an enemy.

On rushed the Argyll, and when nearly up to the Warsaw, the latter gave steam to her engines. Breast to breast the gladiators charged across the sea, roaring, flaming, and smoking. A torpedo left the side of the Warsaw, pointed diagonally ahead, to intercept the Argyll. But it was badly aimed, and the hissing bubbles passed under her stern. Before another could be discharged, the torpedo-room, located by the Argyll’s officers, was enlarged to the size of three by the succeeding bombardment and the explosion of the remaining torpedoes.

Twelve-inch armor cannot keep out thirteen-inch armor-piercing shell, and torpedoes cannot explode on board without damage to machinery, steering-gear, and vital connections. The Warsaw yawed, slackened speed, and came to a stop, her turret-guns still speaking, but the secondary guns silent. The Argyll circled around her, sending her thirteen-, eight-, and six-inch shells into her victim with almost muzzle energy. The two military masts of the Warsaw sank, and dead men in the fighting-tops were flung overboard. The forward turret seemed to explode; smoke and flame shot out of the ports, and its top lifted and fell. Then the Argyll turned and headed straight for her side.

There was little need of gun fire now; but the forward-turret guns belched once during the charge, and the more quickly handled eight- and six-inch rifles stormed away while there was time to reload. Smoking, rolling, and barking,–ten thousand tons of inertia behind a solid steel knife,–she pounced on her now silent enemy. There was a crunching sound, muffled and continuous. The speed of the Argyll seemed hardly checked. In went the ram farther and farther, until the slanting edge began cutting above the water. Then the Warsaw, heeled far over by the impact, rolled back, and the knife cut upward. The smooth plates at the Argyll’s water-line wrinkled like paper, and the pile of shattered steel which had once been her forward deck and bulkheads was shaken up and adjusted to new positions; but not until her nose was actually buried in the wound–until the Warsaw was cut half in two–did the reversed engines begin to work. The Argyll backed out, exposing for a moment a hole like a cavern’s mouth; then the stricken ship rolled heavily toward her, burying the sore, and, humming and buzzing with exhausting steam and rushing air, settled rapidly and sank, while out from ports, doors, and nearly vertical hatches came her crew, as many as could. They sprang overboard and swam, and those that reached the now stationary Argyll were rescued; for a cry had gone through the latter from the central station in her depths: “All hands on deck to save life! Bring ladders, life-buoys, and ropes’ ends!”

The battle was ended; for, with the ramming of the Warsaw, the Obdorsk struck to the three ships circling around her. They had suffered, but the battle-ship Argyll was reduced to a monitor. Her superstructure and the bow and stern above the water-line were shattered to a shapeless tangle of steel. What was left of her funnels and ventilators resembled nutmeg-graters, and she was perceptibly down by the head; for her bow leaked through its wrinkled plates, and the forward compartment below the protective deck was filled. Yet she could still fight in smooth water. Her box-like citadel was intact, and standing naked out of the wreck, scarred and dented, but uninjured, were the turrets, ammunition-hoists, and conning-tower. In the latter was the brain of the ship, that had fought her to victory and then sent the call to her crew to save the lives of their enemies.

Two men met on a level spot amidships and clasped hands. Both were bare-waisted and grimy, and one showed red as a lobster under the stains. He was the chief engineer.