SIX-POUNDER TARGET PRACTICE
Graduation day drew near, bringing exultant happiness to Robert Drake.
Not many more things could occur to him--the annual examinations were
soon to be held, but these brought no terrors to Robert's mind. Most of
the drills had been finished, and the first and second companies were
now neck and neck in competition for the first place, with Blair's
company slightly in the lead. The final standing now depended upon the
records these respective companies made at target practice.
Annapolis was now in ribboned and brass-buttoned glory. Proudly the
brigade of midshipmen marched each afternoon for dress parade, and on
the walks viewing them was much fluttering loveliness. Then, after
dismissal, came pleasant, even if short, strolls through the grounds, in
and about the shady walks.
Robert was happy because of four years of hard work well done and well
appreciated. He loved the place. Every tree on the grounds was an old
friend, and every spot near and about old Annapolis called up pleasant
memories.
The important things yet to occur were target practice, the first class
german, graduation, and the great June ball.
Among the midshipmen there were a few, however, who were not happy at
this time. Among them was Harry Blunt; in danger of failing in
mathematics, disturbed by reproachful looks from his mother and sister
and worried by severe letters from his father, he commenced to have an
anxious appearance, and actually abandoned the gaieties that were now
thrust into midshipman life in favor of much neglected books; the
dreaded annual examinations were almost upon him.
Midshipman Bligh, though also in the same precarious position, seemed to
lose some of the gloom he had been carrying about him and become more
normal. He went into the city of Annapolis at every opportunity and
always came back with a grateful heart; for Bligh had found a friend
who believed in him, and this friend had rescued Bligh from the pit of
despondency and terrible sadness into which he had descended.
"Say, Bob," remarked Stonewell one day, "have you noticed that fellow
Bligh of late?"
"I never happen to think of him. What about him?"
"Nothing much, except that I am constantly meeting him. He never seems
to look at me, but whenever I go out in town nowadays he's pretty sure
to be standing at the Maryland Avenue gate; and then later, half the
time I go out I meet him somewhere. This has happened so often of late
that I can't help but feel he's interested in where I go."
"Lots of people are interested in where you go, Stone; every day
somebody asks me why you go out so much alone. For years we have gone
out together, but now you never want me."
"It's not that," replied Stonewell hurriedly,--"I've had some personal
matters come up that require my attention. Look here, that Bligh is
going to bilge, isn't he?"
"He is practically certain to. He is low in every study--he'll have to
make bigger marks in each of them than he ever yet has made to get
satisfactory in the final average. But he may do it; people have pulled
out of worse holes than he is in."
"What are you reading, Bob? You seem to be giving that newspaper a good
deal of your attention to-day."
"I'm reading about the boy who was kidnapped in Baltimore several days
ago. First it was thought the boy was lost, but now the police believe
he was kidnapped; it says here that Mr. Thompson has received word his
boy will be restored to him on payment of ten thousand dollars. By
George! I hope they catch the kidnappers and send them to prison for
life. That's an awful crime!"
"It is indeed; and just think, Baltimore is only thirty miles away. I've
been reading about that Thompson boy and I do hope he will be sent back
home. Well, Bob, are you all ready for your target practice? Do you
really put faith in this new sight you have invented?"
"More so every day, Stone, particularly since I've learned that
practically the same sight as I have aboard the 'Nevada' has been put on
many different guns throughout the navy. Anybody who sees it and works
with it a little is bound to believe it is far better than the old
sights. Those were simply miserable. I'm now fifteen or twenty points
behind Blair, with only target practice yet to be heard from, and I'm
sure to beat him. I'd beat him even if we should use the old sights. You
see I have a really very well-drilled crew; they load rapidly. I'm wild
to get into the practice; I've a flag at stake, you know. It will be
settled before night. Hello, the bugle has busted. Let's get to
formation."
On board the monitor "Nevada" they joined the other midshipmen, and soon
she was under way and steaming through the buoyed channel to the free
waters of Chesapeake Bay. The "Nevada" had on board the officers
belonging to the Department of Ordnance and Gunnery and a number of
midshipmen; there were also on board a six-pounder crew of five men from
each of the twelve companies of midshipmen. In addition many midshipmen
who had no duties but who were interested in seeing the target practice
were allowed to be present. Soon a cry from aloft was heard.
"Sail ho!" cried the midshipman lookout on the "Nevada's" mast.
"Where away, can you make her out?" returned the midshipman
officer-of-the-deck, hailing the lookout.
"Right ahead, sir, but I don't know what it is. It looks like a funny
kind of a ship with six sails on it."
"Who made that ridiculous report?" inquired Commander Brice in great
disgust. "If it were an ordinary seaman I'd disrate him to an afterguard
sweeper. But I imagine it's a future admiral. The sail he's reported are
the targets--there are six of them. Anybody but a midshipman would know
it. They've been in sight ever since we left the Severn River."
The target was now seen by everybody and the "Nevada" steered for it. It
was at the apex of an equilateral triangle each side of which was one
thousand yards long. The word targets, rather than target, should have
been used, because in this apex, for the purpose of expediting this
practice, of finishing it in one afternoon, six targets on rafts had
been placed. The tug "Standish" was anchored near by. She had brought a
party of enlisted men, who had been working all morning, and had erected
the marks.
Commander Shaw, the head of the Department of Ordnance and Gunnery,
remained on the bridge with Commander Brice until the "Nevada" had
cleared the channel. Then, as he descended the ladder leading from the
bridge to the superstructure deck, he was met by an eager-faced
midshipman, who cried to him:
"Captain Shaw, do you remember we were all encouraged by your
instructors to make any improvements we could in the guns we were to
drill with?"
"I do indeed, Mr. Drake," replied Commander Shaw, smiling with interest
at Robert's eagerness. "What have you been doing?"
"I will show you, sir. Will you please come over to the starboard
six-pounder gun?"
Robert stepped quickly to the starboard side, followed by the commander.
He then quickly unscrewed the regular gun sights, drew them out of the
sockets, and threw them over to Chief Gunner's Mate Lenn. The latter
handed Robert a long parcel wrapped in paper.
"Hello, Bob, what have you there, a new gun?" laughed Blair. "Say,
fellows, let's see what Bob is up to." Everybody became interested and
crowded about, and many were the laughing remarks made to Robert. But
the latter, paying no attention to these, quickly stripped the paper
from the parcel, and a long brass pipe was exposed to the curious eyes
about him. On one end of the pipe was clamped a piece of metal which
carried a circular ring, across which were attached, at right angles,
thin silvery-white wires. At the other end of the pipe was attached a
small brass cylinder, closed except for a minute hole through its
centre. Near the cross wire end, hanging from the pipe, was a solid
plug, cylindrical in section.
Robert worked rapidly. He slipped this plug into the recess left by the
front sight, putting in several thin washers; at the rear end of the
brass pipe was attached a condemned rear sight, one furnished by Lenn,
and this naturally slipped into its place.
"By George, Mr. Drake," cried out Commander Shaw, "this is splendid.
It's the Paul Jones' bar sight! She won this year's six-pounder record
by that sight--I only yesterday received a drawing of it--how in the
world did you get this up?"
"Several helped, sir, and Chief Gunner's Mate Lenn did all the work
about it. May I use these sights, sir, on my target practice to-day?"
"Indeed you may, and all of the rest of the gun crews will. We've known
for some time the old sights were very poor. I'm delighted, Mr. Drake."
Robert's face was radiant with happiness. His classmates crowded about
him; everybody saw at a glance that Robert's sight was a decided
improvement.
"I congratulate you, Bob," said Blair to him. "I guess you've got the
flag and you deserve to have it; this is just fine. Captain Shaw,"
continued Blair, "I request permission to fire my shots with the old
sights."
"Not granted, sir."
"But, captain, there is a special reason why I should, a big reason. You
see, sir, Drake and I are fighting for the flag; this target practice
will decide things; one of us is bound to win it; now he has got up this
sight and it would certainly be unfair to him if I were to get the
benefit of his good ideas and----"
"Captain Shaw," cried Robert, interrupting Blair, "if you think it's a
good sight let's all fire with it, and give the Naval Academy a better
record in target practice than last year; and if Blair can beat me
out--then all the more credit to him, for I've had a lot of practice in
aiming and loading. And, captain, I'd like to have each crew practice as
much as they can find time for; I've had hours of it. It's very easy to
go from the old sights to this; you just keep the gun pointed with your
shoulder and arm so that the line through the peep-hole and intersection
of cross wires prolonged will meet the object you want to hit. Here,
Sam, you take the gun and get used to it."
"Bob, this is awfully white of you, and it's not fair to you."
"Gentlemen, you'll all fire with this new sight of Mr. Drake's,"
announced Commander Shaw, decisively.
"Bob, I'm going to do my best, of course, but you ought to win; if I
should happen to get credited for the most hits I couldn't feel I
deserved to beat you."
"Don't you worry, Sam," chuckled Robert; "I've been practicing with that
sight for some months. If you can win you've a right to."
Robert was radiantly happy; this public recognition of his having done
something worth while filled him with joy. And at the same time he was
completely confident that he would make the best record during the day.
He was really desirous of having everybody who fired use the sight he
had installed, because he expected to win anyway. He knew in his heart
that with all the special drill he had had he was practically certain to
make the highest score in target practice, no matter which sight was
used, and he felt he would really have more credit if all who fired used
the same sights.
"Now, gentlemen, each pointer will have a chance to practice with Mr.
Drake's bar sight before he fires," announced Commander Shaw. "Mr.
Drake, you will fire first. Are you bore sighted?"
"Yes, sir, everything is ready, but I'd like to fire a trial shot."
"Very well. We'll steam to the range and give you a trial shot, and then
Mr. Blair may practice aiming. Then we'll go on the range and you will
commence, and when you finish the second company's gun crew will
commence; as soon as they finish, and while turning the ship around for
the return run, the pointers of the third and fourth crews will practice
with the sight. We'll fire two pointers on a run and practice two on the
return, so after six double runs we will have fired at the six targets;
then a boat from the 'Standish' will patch up the targets, and after
that we'll fire the other six gun crews; we ought to finish before five
o'clock. Have you your range cards ready, and a stop-watch?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right." Then to Commander Brice on the bridge: "Are you making ten
knots, captain?"
"Yes, sir, just exactly ten knots."
"Take your trial shot just after we pass the first buoy, Mr Drake."
"Yes, sir; I'm ready, sir."
The "Nevada" was now rapidly approaching the range, which was marked by
three buoys in line, this line forming the base of the triangle, of
which the targets were in the apex. The "Nevada" was to travel just
outside of the line while the six-pounder was being fired.
"What yacht is that?" asked Commander Shaw of Commander Brice,
indicating a yacht that had evidently just come from Annapolis.
"That's the 'Robert Centre,'" replied Commander Brice, after looking at
her through his glasses.
"I think she has come out to see the target practice, and I'll wager a
ship's biscuit that a party of midshipmen with some girl friends are on
board," he continued, with a laugh.
"Just look at the way sail is crowded on her. Jerusalem! the fellow who
is running that yacht has a lot of nerve; he's got every rag stretched
that's aboard."
The "Robert Centre" was a yacht that some years previous had been
presented to the Naval Academy, and in leisure hours midshipmen were
allowed to sail her in Chesapeake Bay. She was coming out under a great
press of canvas with a fresh, spanking breeze on her port quarter.
"I'll blow the ship's steam whistle when the first buoy is abeam of the
mast," called out Commander Shaw. "Mr. Drake, take your trial shot as
soon after as you please."
"Aye, aye, sir."
In a moment there was a strident blast from the steam whistle and
immediately after: "Bang!" went the six-pounder.
Many midshipmen, not prepared for the deafening report, jumped
violently.
"A bull's-eye," cried out Commander Shaw in delight. "Mr. Drake, your
sight is all right, and the powder is all right. Captain Brice, I'd like
to go back and commence over again. Mr. Drake, let Mr. Blair practice
sighting the gun. You'll find, Mr. Blair, that the new sights are easier
to shoot with. Mr. Drake, I'm delighted; that was a bully good shot."
Again the "Nevada" steamed toward the range.
"Now, fellows," said Robert, "put cotton in your ears and don't mind
about the noise; get the gun loaded as soon as I fire; and, Glass, be
sure you throw the shell in home; the only chance of a poor score is a
jammed cartridge."
The "Nevada" rapidly approached the first buoy. An intense, breathless
silence, an air of solemnity, pervaded the ship. Standing like statues
grouped about the six-pounder gun that was about to fire, were Robert
and his crew, with grim determination written on every face.
"After the whistle blows commence firing immediately," ordered Commander
Shaw. "I'll time you with a stop-watch; you will fire for just a minute;
jump back the instant I tap you on the arm like this. Mr. Blair, have
your crew ready to jump to the gun just when I signal to Mr. Drake to
cease."
"Aye, aye, sir," came the replies in unison from both Robert and Blair.
When the whistle blew, there came a novel sensation to those on board
who had never before seen a navy target practice.
A sheet of white flame burst from the muzzle of the six-pounder, a
thunderous, reverberating report assaulted the ears of everybody, and
hardly had this been experienced when the same thing was repeated, over
and over again. The grim statues at the gun had burst into reckless
life. At the first shot, the recoil of the gun had thrown down the
breech-block and so had opened the gun, ejecting the used cartridge
case. The gun was ready for loading, and Glassfell lost no time. Hardly
had the empty cartridge case been ejected than into the chamber he threw
a fresh shell. A spring was automatically released, throwing the
breech-block into place, and the gun was ready for firing. Almost
instantly it was discharged, for Robert never allowed the sights to
leave the target.
And so a thunderous bang! bang! bang! was kept up from the gun.
Commander Brice, on top of the pilot house, with his glasses leveled on
the target, was in an ecstasy of delight.
"A bull's-eye," he cried, "another bull's-eye, a beautiful shot,
wonderful shooting."
While this was going on, a wild-eyed enlisted man, scantily clad in
working trousers and undershirt, and evidently under intense
excitement, came tumbling up on the superstructure deck, screaming,
"Captain, captain."
He ran into half a dozen midshipmen, fell down twice, reached the ladder
leading to the pilot house top, still continuing his wild cry of
"Captain." He bumped into Captain Brice, and when the latter turned
angrily around to him, he thrust a paper into the captain's hands.
Commander Brice read the paper, and then in a stentorian voice cried
out: "Cease firing."
At the same instant Commander Shaw touched Robert on the shoulder and
called "time."
"Cease firing," repeated Commander Brice. "Keep Mr. Drake and his crew
at the gun! Hard a starboard the helm! Call away the life-boat. Gunner's
mate, get up twelve rifles and rifle ammunition, double time! Captain
Shaw, detail Lieutenant Joynes to take charge of the life-boat; have two
midshipmen crews, armed with rifles, prepared to go in the life-boat
when it is lowered. Ease the helm, amidships with it--steady so."
Many pairs of surprised eyes were upon Commander Brice. With glasses up
to his eyes, he was now looking at a yacht on the starboard bow,
recognized by everybody to be the "Robert Centre" which, some distance
away, was careening far to one side and was bowling along at a furious
speed.
"Mr. Drake!" called out Commander Brice.
"Sir?"
"Do you see the 'Robert Centre'?"
"Yes, sir."
"Drop a shell under her bows. Don't hit her. The range is about fifteen
hundred yards."