'I did,' I said; 'I closed it too quickly.'
'Silly ass, don't meddle; you takes too much on yerself. Just give Mr. Marchant the firing lanyard, and take on 'is job—and be nippy with 'em cylinders.'
So I had to do the hard work, and wasn't the Ink-slinger proud to do the actual firing!
'Gun's crew, fall in!' Mr. Bostock roared again.
We jumped to the gun and took up our proper stations, and fired twice whilst he watched the result.
'You ain't 'it nothin' yet,' he growled. 'Cease firin'; you're a disgrace. Fall out.'
He went for the 'Angel' like anything about his telescopic sight, put it right for him, and then stalked off to Barton's gun, but he'd done everything properly, so back he came. ''Ere! get down off there—I'll take a shot,' and the 'Angel' didn't like it a little bit when he slung him off the trail. We rather wished he hadn't come and spoilt our fun.
Well, that shot got the biggest cruiser amidships somewhere, and we were so jolly pleased that we didn't mind anything. The ships had found out now that we were perched on top of the ridge, but I'm certain they never spotted us, because nothing came really close, and most of the shots went overhead, and we heard them bursting amongst the trees in the forest beyond the stream.
You bet your life we were full of buck when the cruisers began to get under way, and then Mr. Bostock told us to aim at the nearest transport, and, after a few misses, we both hit her together and that did the trick—it jolly well saved Cousin Gerald, and San Fernando too—because the troops began embarking again, though the ships went off so quickly that a lot of the boats had to pull after them.
We saw the Hector's picket-boat dashing to where the little gunboat sank, and then you know exactly what happened, the whole fleet cleared off, and we followed them as best we could, till they got out of range, or, rather, till we had no more ammunition left. But long before that the proper guns' crews and their officers came doubling back, and wanted to carry on with the job, though we wouldn't let them, and they stood behind us grinning and capering, shouting 'Viva los Inglesas!' whenever we nearly hit a ship. Mr. Bostock didn't worry his head any more after the transports had begun to move off, coiled up close to Barton's gun and had a snooze.