"Scoot out of it!" the Commander said, scrambling to his feet, and taking them down to where they had found him at first—soldiers dashing for cover all along the ridge. "Keep close in behind those rocks," he said, as they lay down, and he peered out between his sand-bags.
"I thought so. The same two old guns, on the far side of the 'Rectory Field'. They've shifted 'em since the morning. They've fired again. They keep those two especially for my benefit."
"Whump" burst a shell, then another, up along the ridge, somewhere close to the Observation Post, whilst the hawk-like Commander rapidly took "angles" with his sextant, and examined the squares and dots on his military map.
Then he rang up the Naval Observation Post, and giving them the new position of the guns told them to ask Swiftsure to try a few rounds.
"Keep down!" he sang out to the two boys. "Snuggle up to those rocks. Those chaps sometimes try lower down the slope."
During the next quarter of an hour some fifteen or sixteen shells burst close to the old Observation Post, and the Orphan wriggled to a place where he could look down, across the harbour, to where the Swiftsure, Venerable, and Achates lay. They did look small.
"Hello! there goes one from the Swiftsure," he cried, and wriggled farther round to see if its shell went anywhere near those guns that had been firing.
"Twenty yards short—good shot!" the Commander sang out. "They'll fire another, if either of the guns are loaded—— Yes—there they go—keep down! Then they'll pack up."
"B-r-r—whomp" burst a shell, just as the Swiftsure fired again, and they watched for her shell to burst. "I believe that's a hit; if it wasn't, it was jolly close. Go up and see what damage they have done; it's perfectly safe now."
The two midshipmen scrambled to their feet and made their way up to the old Observation Post, whilst the Commander busied himself with the telephone.