“Sonny!” shouted John Fisher—the roar of the surf compelled every one to shout—“do you know what we are up to?”
Charlie shook his head.
“Well, that cannon is loaded, and—”
Up sprang Charlie. He did not want a seat like that.
“And the shot has a light but strong line hitched to it. A man will p’int the gun so that when the shot goes out it will fall over the vessel, and carry the line with it. Now watch him.”
Charlie watched. “Bang!” went the gun. Away went the shot, the long rope wriggling after it.
“Good!” cried John.
“What is good?” bawled Charlie.
“A good shot! The man sent the shot so that the rope has fallen across the vessel, I think.”
Others thought so, too, and a man quickly shouted, “They’re pulling on it! Hurrah!”