Then all us mids. scrambled down below to get some hot cocoa and bread and butter, and were up on deck again in a jiffy, for the buglers sounded 'cable officers,' which meant that we were just going to weigh anchor, and we didn't want to miss any of the fun.
The Hercules, cleared for action, just astern of us, was looking awfully grim, her long guns simply bristling over the sides, and white ensigns lashed in her rigging.
Petty Officer O'Leary came up to ask about Billums—he was very worried about him—and, just as we began to steam ahead, a cloud of smoke shot out from one of the forts above the town.
'They're going to fight,' I sang out, not quite certain that I wasn't frightened.
But O'Leary growled, and said, 'No such luck, sir, anyway, that's only the sunrise gun—late as usu'l, sir.'
'General quarters' was sounded—we could hear it too aboard the Hercules—and we all had to rush to our stations. Mine was in the starboard for'ard 9.2 turret, and you may bet your life that directly we'd cleared it away, and had things ready inside, I got my head jammed outside the sighting hood to see what was going on.
We headed straight inshore, and then made a wide sweep round the lighthouse and the end of the breakwater.
As we turned, the white forts about the town came into view, and we tried to get our gun to bear on them, but though we gave it extreme elevation, cocking it up in the air, we couldn't elevate it nearly enough.
Mr. Bigge, the lieutenant in charge of my turret, was very angry about it, but of course nothing could be done. That was why the Hercules was steaming backwards and forwards, far enough outside the breakwater for her guns to bear.
As we crept up to the town, I kept my telescope glued on the forts, but couldn't see any sign of life in them.