“That is one of the things I do not know, sir,” answered Hornblower with a grin. “It would not surprise me if we found out during the course of today.”
“I dare say,” said Bush; but Hornblower had swung round and was confronting a seaman who had come running up to the platform.
“What d’ye think you’re doing?”
“Bringing a fresh charge, sir,” said the man, surprised, indicating with a gesture the cartridgecontainer he carried.
“Then get back and wait for the order. Get back, all of you.”
The ammunition carriers shrank back before his evident anger.
“Swab out!” ordered Hornblower to the guns’ crews, and as the wetted sponges were thrust into the muzzles he turned to Bush again. “We can’t be too careful, sir. We don’t want any chance of live charges and redhot shot coming together on this platform.”
“Certainly not,” agreed Bush.
He was both pleased and irritated that Hornblower should have dealt so efficiently with the organization of the battery.
“Fresh charges!” yelled Hornblower, and the ammunition carriers he had previously sent back came trotting up the ramp again. “These are English cartridges, sir, I’ll wager.”