Boom again! The don gave another shot from his brass gun, and this time an angry shout arose from our own vessels in the roadstead, for the ball had crossed the forefoot of a Newcastle collier.
"Ramble, this will never do," said Slingsby; "that Spanish craft is too near by half--much nearer than our standing orders permit."
"Now, gunner, is that 24-pounder ready?" said I.
We all watched the shot with breathless interest, for to us, the whole affair was merely a race, a game of hazard, like any other. The sullen roar of the 24-pounder shook the solid parapet of the New Mole Fort, and pealed in repeated echoes round all the shore to the extremity of Rosia Bay; and as the cloud of light smoke curled away from before us, we saw the shot whipping the water far astern of the guarda costa, and a flush of annoyance spread over the honest face of the artilleryman; for, as all our eyes were bent upon his performance, he had been most anxious to excel, and this very anxiety had probably defeated its object.
A muttered exclamation of impatience escaped him.
"Run back the gun," said he to the guard.
Back went the carronade, and home went the sponge, as he set his teeth, and, with hasty determination, proceeded to reload.
"Quick, quick," said I; "for if she hauls her wind, gunner, there will barely be time to give another shot."
"I'll toss you for it, Señor Capitano," said Slingsby; "bet you a bottle of champagne that I will hit the guarda costa."
"Done," said I; "toss for the first fire."
"Take care that you don't hit the felucca."
"Miss the pigeon and hit the crow--eh, Dick?" he said, while, laughing, he applied his eye to the sites on the breech, and proceeded to adjust the screw, to the evident annoyance of the gunner, who, while he could not decline to relinquish his place to an officer, was piqued on being deprived of a chance of retrieving his name as a professional marksman; and now he stood by, with his match lighted, in the earnest hope, doubtless, that Jack Slingsby would send his shot as wide of the mark as possible. Cigar in mouth, Jack glanced coolly--almost carelessly--along the gun, and on covering his object, cried--"fire!"
Again the lintstock fell on the touch-hole; again the gun-shot rolled along the echoing shore, and pealed away to seaward; a large white splinter was seen on the gunwale of the guarda costa; her sails shivered and flapped in the wind, as the ball struck her, and suddenly backing her mainyard, she lay to, heaving like a wounded seabird, on the long glassy ridges of the ground-swell, ere the burst of applause with which our soldiers greeted Slingsby had died away--for my friend Jack was one of their most favourite officers.