"Now, then," said Mr. Ironsides, drawing a brass tube out of the breech of the firing cylinder, "you see, I put this globe in this tube—this way."
As he spoke, he thrust the metal globe into the brass tube, which it fitted snugly. The key-like projection remained sticking out of the end of the tube, however.
"If the Huron was used for surface work," went on Mr. Ironsides, "she could, if her officers wished, handle and fire ordinary torpedoes. But to overcome the pressure at this depth, terrific driving force is necessary. To furnish this, I use compressed air superheated, coupled with an explosive gas, generated in the muzzle of the torpedo tube as the bomb passes through. Do you follow me?"
It is doubtful if Tom did. But, at all events, he grasped the main idea of the inventor's discourse.
"Now, then," went on Mr. Ironsides, "I am going to start the mechanism which combines the two elements contained in this globe into a death-dealing combination."
He twisted the key, and a clicking sound resulted like that which emanates from a mechanical toy when it is being wound up.
"We're all ready now," he declared finally. "The only thing left to do is to 'ram home,' as they say in the navy."
So saying, the inventor thrust the brass tube, containing the projectile, into the breech of the firing tube, in much the same manner as the brass cartridge is thrust into the breech of a naval gun.
Then he closed the breech and locked its mechanism with a sharp snap.
"Now, Tom Dacre, boy," he exclaimed, an exulting note in his voice, "we are ready for our up-to-date act of justice on yonder sunken wreck."