Part 16 (2/2)

”Whew!” commented the officer. ”They're running in on us.”

”Have to lower the gun,” commented Ned.

As has been said, in order to reach a far distant point, a gun must be elevated more than to hit a mark close by.

”Down she goes!” Frank exclaimed, as the mechanism depressed the muzzle.

”Can you sight the target?” asked the officer.

”Sight she is!”

”Then fire!”

”Fire!” echoed Frank.

Again came that belch of smoke and acrid smell, the recoil of the gun, the trembling turret and the rush of compressed air as it blew out the burning particles of powder.

Powder that is used in big guns is not like the old-fas.h.i.+oned black powder. It is highly explosive, but some of the ”grains” are in sheets, perforated like a piece of Swiss cheese, and as large as your palm. Some is in long sticks, like large macaroni. Other is in brown hexagons, two inches across. You can safely touch a match to some of this powder and let it burn as you hold it. It is when it is confined, as in a gun, and the gases from it can not escape after its sudden detonation, that it exerts its explosive force.

So the target practice went on, the young blue-jackets taking turns at sighting and firing the gun. But no one bettered Frank's record of shots though Ned came close to it. It was hot work in the turret. The boys were stripped to their waists, and even then they were wet with perspiration and blackened with smoke and oil.

Finally there flashed into view on the turret signal device the words ”cease firing.” The practice was over. And then, just how it happened no one could tell, there was discovered on the iron floor of the turret a burning ma.s.s of powder that was slowly flaming. And worse than that, this burning powder was near a large charge that had been hoisted up but not used.

”Look!” cried Ned, frantically.

”Run out!” shouted Frank, aware of the danger of an explosion.

”Clear the turret!” yelled the officer. ”Out, every one of you!”

The explosion was imminent. The officer stood at the entrance as the lads rushed out. Frank was the last, being preceded by Hank Dell. As the latter hurried he slipped and fell, striking his head on a steel projection. With a moan he rolled over unconscious.

The next instant, though the explosion might occur any moment, Frank stooped over, and catching up in his strong arms the body of the unconscious bully, he bore him from the turret, though, had he wished, Frank might have leaped across the p.r.o.ne form to safety.

”Quick!” cried the officer, as he leaped after Frank to help him. But there was no need. Frank had carried out his enemy.

The next instant there was a big flash of fire, and a dull report that threw Frank with his burden down to the deck.

CHAPTER XV-ORDERED SOUTH

At first more than one thought a terrible explosion had taken place, and the general alarm was sounded. But it was not half so bad as it seemed.

Ned, who, with horror-stricken eyes, had seen his brother fall, was relieved to see him slowly get up and help lift Hank to a more comfortable position. From the interior of the gun turret, however, a ma.s.s of yellow smoke poured. But it quickly blew away, and an inspection on the part of the officers showed that no great damage had been done.

It was a ma.s.s of imperfect powder that had exploded, and the force was not great. Then, too, it had not been closely confined, and the force was distributed over a large area, not being strong at any one point.

”But young Arden didn't know that when he stopped to pick up Dell,” said the officer in charge. ”Young man, I want to congratulate you on as brave an act as I've seen in a long time!”

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