Out over the waters shot the rocket, leaving behind a fiery trail. It flew about three feet above the top of the tug’s pilot house, dropping into the ocean beyond.
“It was my trembling hand that spoiled my aim,” gasped Jed. “Now, another, and steady, old boy!”
Jed fitted the second rocket, applying the match. Whizz! Smash!
“Ho, ho!” roared Jed, for that rocket, going straight and true, had smashed a light of glass in the tug’s pilot house. Bang! Being an explosive rocket, the thing blew into a thousand fragments inside that pilot house. A yell came from the man at the helm.
But Jed did not waste time looking or listening. He fitted another rocket, touching it off after swift aim. That one whizzed between the heads of two of the three men out forward, and Jed heard their rough words of alarm and anger.
“Wow!” ejaculated the boy. “I’m a whole Navy! What?”
Another rocket he aimed at the three men. They scrambled in all directions. Still another rocket Prentiss drove through the pilot house windows. Jed heard the engine room bell jingle for the stop.
“I’ll give you plenty of it,” gritted Prentiss, thrusting a hand into the box and bringing forth this time a stout Roman candle—a fourteen-ball affair.
Lighting and waving it, Jed was ready, at the pop of the first ball, to aim the affair at the tug boat. The missiles fell all about. Though Jed did not know it, one of the hot, glowing balls struck Captain Jonas French squarely on the end of his bulb-like nose. He let out an Indian-like yell, dropping the wheel. Another man crawled in on his knees to take the skipper’s place, but he kept down below the wood-work of the front of the pilot house, steering by the lower spokes of the wheel.
The tug’s bell sounded for reversed speed, then for the go-ahead, as the craft swung her bow around. They were retreating, but Jed, chuckling aloud in his glee, sent three more rockets after the tug, just to show her people that he had plenty of ammunition left. Then, when the tug was out of range, Jed stood up, gazing after her dim lines.