"Look at the target."
"I see a fly speck over by the edge of the target," spoke up Sam.
"That is where your shot struck. Had you been shooting at a battleship you might have raked her stern, but I reckon you would not have done her very great damage. However, it was not a half-bad shot for a landlubber. Number three, take your place."
The man indicated made an even worse shot than had Hickey, though he had been practising with the dotter for three weeks.
"You never will do at this work," decided the gun captain. "About all you will be good for will be to clean bright work and pass along ammunition. Davis, let's see what you can do."
Dan was all expectation. He could hardly wait for his turn at the gun.
"You understand how to work it?"
"I think so."
"Take your time. Make sure of your mark, then let go quickly. You will find in actual target work, or in shooting at an enemy, that a fraction of a second's delay will ordinarily roll the target out of your range. Better to shoot a second too soon than a second too late."
Dan was peering through the sights, his eye fixed on the pin-head opening. One hand crept slowly to the trigger. It rested there for a few seconds without a tremor. His nerves were steady and true.