“Stand clear, men,” he had barely time to shout, when the loaded car, shutter and all, shot down into their midst, a hopeless mass of twisted metal.
CHAPTER V
HURRIED ORDERS
The accident came so unexpectedly that it was some moments before Phil could find his voice. Then he realized there was nothing to be done. The damage was beyond his capacity to repair. The turret was useless for further service.
He glanced, apprehensively, upward through the jagged rent of the shutter and his eyes fell upon the angry, excited face of his divisional officer.
There was small reason to ask the trouble. The dangling end of the wire rope told the story only too plainly: the hoist rope had broken when the ammunition car was nearly at the breech of the gun, and it had then plunged downward, with its burden of nearly a ton of shell and powder, wrecking itself and the shutter.
A moment later Lazar was in the handling room, viewing the effects of the unlucky accident.
Stooping down he raised the car end of the wire rope.
“Cut half through,” he cried in a voice full of passion, “and by a file or saw.” His disappointment was too keen to conceal.
“All my work for nothing. The umpires will decide the accident against me, and only half the firing over.”
Phil felt sorry for the older man. He would willingly take the blame on himself, if that could have helped matters.