'So much the better for us,' Ken answered. 'Mr Dimmock, this one ought to do for the nearest barge.'
Hastily Dimmock sighted again at the blunt, low-lying object which loomed dimly ahead in the wet darkness.
Once more the smart little gun spoke, but the crack of the report had hardly sounded before it was drowned by the most appalling crash. Up from the stricken barge shot a sheet of crimson flame, a blaze of fire which mounted a hundred feet into the murky air, and in spite of fog and mist flung its glare upon the iron cliffs on either side the narrow straits.
The launch shuddered as though she had struck a reef, and the blast from the explosion flung every soul who was standing up flat upon her decks.
Hard upon the roar came a wave, a wave which rose high over the bows of the long, slim craft, and swept across her in a torrent of cold, salt water.
It washed Ken back against the rail, which he clutched at desperately, and so saved himself from going overboard.
Dazed and confused, he struggled to his feet.
'Roy!' he cried thickly, 'Roy!'
'All right. We're all right,' came a hoarse reply, and Roy's tall figure rose from close under the opposite rail, and grasping Dimmock, lugged him to his feet.
'Gad, that's done the trick!' he panted. 'The other barges are gone. So's the tug. We've bust the whole caboodle.'