I looked at my uncle to see if he was laughing at me, but he was quite serious, and, in obedience to his order, I loaded and stood ready.
“Now, look here, my boy,” he said; “this will be rather a difficult task, for both your target and you are in motion. So you must aim as well as you can. I should draw trigger just as the bladder is rising.”
“But how shall we know if I hit it?”
“You are not very likely to hit it, Nat,” he said smiling; “but if you do, the bladder will collapse—the bottle be shivered to fragments, and sink. Now let us see.”
It made me feel nervous to see so many people collect about me, one and all eager to witness my skill, and I knew enough French to understand a good many of their remarks. Some said I must be a very skilful shot, others that I could not shoot at all; and one way and another they disconcerted me so that, when my uncle threw the first bladder over the side, and I saw it floating away, I felt so confused that I let it get some distance before I fired.
“Reload,” said my uncle; and I did so, and fired again.
“Reload,” he said; and, having obeyed him, I waited till the bladder was on the top of a wave, and again fired without result.
“Again,” said my uncle; “don’t hesitate, and fire sharply.”
The bladder was now getting a long way astern and looking very small, so small that I knew I should not hit it, and consequently I felt no surprise that it should go floating away.
“Don’t lose time, Nat,” my uncle continued, just as if it was quite a matter of course that I should go on missing shot after shot.