Several hours later,
Leonard learned that the whole German gunfire had been focussed for
several minutes on the _Panther_.
But now that gray, smoke-wreathed cruiser rushed on indomitably, flanked
by her thundering consorts. The half-naked men on the _Panther's_
decks looked curiously small in their huge rushing fortress. German
shells battered her decks amid spangling green flames but could not stop
her. As she overtook the _Vulcan_, the concussion of cannon fire
and bursting shells grew so terrific it ceased to be noise. It resolved
itself into blows, terrific air movements that smote Madden all over. It
pounded his ear drums with physical blows; it tore at the bridge of his
nose, jarred his teeth, sent shooting pains through his head, for he was
not wise enough to stuff his ears with cotton and hold his mouth open.
It shook the pit of his stomach and nauseated him. It was a sound
cyclone. Added to this the sickening acrid smell of niter explosives
filled the atmosphere.
On came the _Panther_ through the green foam of German fire,
mingling the mighty vibrations of her engines, the hiss of leaping walls
of water, tempests of cannon fire and vindictive shriek of leaping
shells.
Caradoc leaned over to Madden and yelled something at the top of his
voice.
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