“Another shell, sir?” asked the blue-jacket who, with Ned and some others, had charge of the ammunition hoist.
“No, not from this turret. We’re going to fire another, but from the after one.”
Frank and his mates were a little regretful, for there is a wonderful fascination about working the big guns. But still he did not want to monopolize all the glory, if such it can be called.
So Frank’s crew cleaned the immense gun to have it in readiness for use when it would again be needed, and went back to their usual positions. A little later there was another terrific report, as the second fifteen-inch gun in the after turret sent a second 1500-pound projectile toward another hill back of Pectelo.
This time Ned and Frank and some of their friends had a good view of the flight of the shell as it sped on its mission of destruction, if not death. They were out of the turret now. Screeching through the air went the projectile. It struck the hill squarely, the gun being aimed as well as had the one Frank served.
An instant later there was a veritable fountain of earth and stones sent into the air, and then dust hid the scene from view.
“I wonder what the game is, firing at those hills?” questioned Ned.
“Maybe just to give the revolutionists a scare,“ suggested his brother.
“Sort of expensive scaring,” commented Tom Dawson.
“Well, we’ll know in good time, I guess,” was the opinion of Hank Dell.