His words were cut short by a series of rapidly repeated reports from the guns of the Puritan. Her quick-firers were at work, and found the range almost immediately. Then followed two roaring explosions, so great in volume that they smothered all the others, and deafened everyone within hearing.
"By Jove! the turret guns!" exclaimed Gerald, putting his fingers to his ears.
The Puritan had, in fact, slewed her turret round, and discharged two of her biggest shells, weighing a thousand pounds apiece. Instantly, up went every glass on the ship, and all eyes gazed eagerly shorewards to see what result would follow.
"Hit! Hit! Right up against the battery! There, there, away to the right!" cried Hal. "I saw the dust and bits fly sixty feet into the air."
In the direction in which he pointed, a dark brown column suddenly spurted up into the air, and floated for some moments like a cloud in front of the battery. Then, as the onlookers from the ships kept their gaze fixed upon the shore, the column suddenly subsided, and when they looked again there were the batteries, surrounded by trees and green fields, while there was no sign of damage produced by the shells.
"Hallo! They are opening on us, and here come the shells!" shouted Gerald, a moment later.
As he spoke, all the Spanish forts fired, and though none of the missiles actually hit the New York, they hurtled unpleasantly close overhead.
"This is hot!" cried Gerald, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "Every time I hear that screech I want to bob badly, and my heart goes down into my boots."
"Yes, it's precious unpleasant," Hal agreed reassuringly; "but the Dons are making bad practice, so we can feel pretty secure. Still, that shriek is horrid. It knocks the courage out of a fellow, for, long before one expects it, you can hear a gentle whistle in the distance, gradually increasing till you'd think that the shell was close beside your ear. Then, while you are still crouching and wondering where it is going to land, you hear a dull poom! in the distance, a sharp report sounds ahead or astern of the ship, and up goes a column of water. You know that you are safe then, but it takes some time to get rid of the feeling of funk that settles upon you when the guns begin to open. But take a look through the glasses. Our shells seem to be plumping into the batteries every time."
The American ships were, indeed, making excellent practice, and within fifteen minutes had silenced the batteries ashore, each mighty shell blowing showers of débris into the air. Then they steamed away, their guns being too hot to be pleasant, and now emitting only thin wreaths of smoke. Rubal Caya, undaunted, threw one last missile, which missed, and to it the Monitor replied with a twelve-inch shell, which seemed to wreck the battery.