This was true enough, though for her size the Georgetown was one of the fastest battleships afloat. Still a smaller boat which did not meet with so much resistance going through the water, could get away with comparative ease. And it looked as if this was what was going to happen.
“Why don’t we fire a shot at her?” murmured Tom Dawson.
“We can’t very well put one across her bows when we’re dead astern,” commented Ned. “And if we fire any other way we’re likely to hit her.”
“Which I suppose we haven’t a right to do,” observed Frank. “We aren’t at war with Uridio. It’s only that we aren’t going to let her revolutionists do things to our citizens.”
But it was evident that something was going to be done, for there sounded, a little later, the order for clearing the ship for action. With cheers the men sprang to their stations, Ned and Frank going to the big gun turret, though it was hardly possible the great guns would be used on so small an opponent.
The decks were quickly cleared, and preparations made for all emergencies. The captain seemed to have taken into consideration the same idea that the sailor had given voice to—namely, that a torpedo might be launched against the Georgetown. He was going to take no chances, and even the boats were gotten ready for a quick launching if it should prove necessary.
“Fire one shot at her, to starboard from a three-inch gun,” was the order that came a little later. And with a yell of delight, not from bloodthirstiness, but at the chance for action, the crew of that gun sprang to obey.
“I wish we had a chance,” murmured Ned, regretfully, as he stood at the ammunition hoist in the big turret.
“Say, if one of these projectiles hit that ship there wouldn’t be a thing left,” said Frank.
“No, I reckon not. Well, maybe our chance will come later.”