Their next business was to run up to the head of the mast near the hangar the red and white flag which would wave there until the end of autumn, and to honour it with the annual salute of two guns.
While Jack was busy taking the flag out of its case and fastening it by the corners to the halyard, Fritz examined the two carronades that were pointed towards the open sea. They were both in good condition, and only required to be loaded. In order to economise powder, Fritz was careful to use a wad of damped sod, as it was his practice to do, which increased the intensity of the discharge. Then he fixed in the touch-hole the quick match which would fire the gun the instant the flag reached the top of the mast.
It was then half past seven in the morning. The sky, cleared now of the mists of early dawn, was absolutely serene. Only towards the west a few wisps of cloud rose in delicate spirals. The breeze seemed dying down. The bay, glittering beneath the streaming rays of the sun, was almost dead calm.
As soon as he had finished, Fritz asked his brother if he was ready.
"When you like, Fritz," Jack answered, satisfying himself that the halyard would run without catching on the roof of the hangar.
"Number one, fire! Number two, fire!" cried Fritz, who took himself very seriously as artilleryman.
The two shots rang out one after the other while the red and white bunting fluttered out in the breeze.
Fritz busied himself reloading the two guns. But he had hardly put the cartridge in the second cannon when he jumped upright.
A distant detonation had just struck upon his ear.
At once Jack and he rushed out of the hangar.