As the smoke cleared away, a scene of confusion was visible; but the gun on the right was fired directly after, and the shot plunged into the bank of earth raised the previous night.
“Ah!” grumbled Ben; “you’ve got the best gun, my lad; there must be a twist in mine, for she throws high.”
“Like to change?” said the corporal.
“No. I’m going to get used to mine and make her work better.”
Shot after shot was fired from the gate tower, the men warming to their work, and the results were very varied; for, in spite of the care exercised and the rivalry between Ben and the corporal, the clumsily cast balls varied greatly in their courses, so that at the end of an hour’s firing very little mischief was done on either side. The enemy had had their earthen parapet a good deal knocked about, and some men had been injured; but all the advantage they had obtained was the battering down of some scraps of stone, which lay about the front of the great gate-way.
“Soon clear that away with a broom,” growled Ben; “but I’m a bit disappointed over these guns, captain. We ought from up here to have knocked theirs off the carriages by this time.”
“We shall do it yet,” said Roy; and during the next few shots he himself laid the guns, taking the most careful aim.
“As I said afore, your eyes are younger and better than mine, Master Roy, but you don’t shoot any more true.—Hullo! what are they doing there?”
He looked earnestly at the battery, where the men seemed to be extra busy, and at a solid mass of troops marching on from some hundreds of yards behind, straight for the castle.
“They’re never mad enough to come and deliver an assault; are they, corp’ral?” cried Ben, excitedly.