"Now, all small boats keep clear of the torpedo course, so that none of you get hit. Don't fall in too soon after the torpedo goes by. We want the course kept clear so that we can follow it with our glasses. Take your places on the range."
The two steamers whistled shrilly, as, with a procession of small boats in tow, they started out over the course.
"Hickey, take your place abaft of the bridge, within hailing distance of the commanding officer," ordered the quartermaster.
Sam stationed himself by the side of the box where the signal flags were kept, and, leaning against it, focused his spyglass on the rapidly receding small boats.
"Up starboard anchor!" commanded the executive officer.
Anchor chains rattled as the huge anchor was slowly raised from the sandy bottom of the bay. The torpedoes were to be fired while the ship was under full speed.
"Once over the course, then fire on the return," ordered the captain. "Port, fire first."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The battleship completed her course at right angles to the course over which the torpedo was to be fired, then swung about.
"Full speed ahead, both engines. Raise the red flag."