ter, I should
say."

"And they expect us to hit that?" broke in "Lucky bag Kennedy."

"Of course," said Tommy the confident, "and we shall."

As soon as the officers of the different divisions had returned from the
bridge, where they had been to report, the quick, sharp bugle call which
summons the crew to general quarters was sounded.

As the first notes were heard, the men scattered as if a bomb with a
visible burning fuse had fallen in their midst. Some hurried to lead out
the hose, some to get the gun sights and firing lanyards, some to get
belts and revolvers for the guns' crews, some down into the hot, dark
magazines, and some to open up the magazine hoists. All was apparent
confusion, but was in reality perfect discipline. Soon boxes of shell
were ready by the guns, but the order "load" had not yet been given.

The triangular target was then lowered over the side and cast loose. In
a few minutes the six-pounders on the spar deck began to bark. "Getting
the range, I guess," said "Hod," who had sneaked over from the powder
division to get a look at the target.

"Pretty near it," replied "Stump," as a shot splashed close to the
triangular piece of canvas.

"Here comes Scully," some one whispered; "now we'll have a chance."

"The captain says fire when ready, at 1,500 yards," said Scully,
saluting Mr. Greene, the officer of the division. "Captain says, sir,
instruct your men to shoot at the top of the roll, and a little over,
rather than under the target," continued he, saluting again.

"Port battery take stations for exercise, load, set your sights at 1,500
yards, and when ready, fire." Mr. Greene's orders came sharp and clear;
there was never any misunderstanding of them.

Most of us of Number Eight's gun crew had never stood near a big gun
when it spoke, and most of us dreaded it and felt inclined to run away
out of ear-shot. It was our business to stand by, however, so we stood
by while Tommy, firing lanyard in hand, sighted the machine.

"Right!" he sung out to "Stump" and "Flagg," who were at the training
wheels. "Right handsomely," added Tommy, working the elevating gear, as
the gun moved slowly round. The gun roared and jumped back on its mount
six or eight inches, but promptly slid back again--forced back by
powerful springs. The shell sped on its way, humming as it went, and
struck a little short of the target, sending up a great fountain as it
was exploded by the impact with the water.

"Hay"