“Back to your posts, every one of you!”
Captain Gomez’s sharp voice cut the tense silence on the decks.
“You put them out of business this time!” yelled Stanley, “or they’ll let loose another of those, and blow us all to a dago heaven.”
“Can’t two play at that game, captain?” asked Ned, as the fire broke out afresh. “Why can’t we try a torpedo at them?”
“A good idea, my boy! Give the orders.”
Ned hailed Stanley in an interval of the fire and gave the necessary command. The torpedo was rigged in a stern tube, and the Barrill swung to deliver it. It was dangerous work. At any moment one of the enemy’s shots might have struck the “war-head” of the implement and blown them all to eternity. But by the same good fortune that had so far protected those on the bridge, Stanley and Herc managed to get the torpedo in the tube and the compressed-air connections made.
Ned snatched up a megaphone as the Barrill’s blunt counter swung till it was aimed at the leaden side of the converted yacht.
“Now, then, boys!” he cried at length.
Stanley took careful aim and released the catch.