his hose-pipe, turned on the nozzle and sent a stream of cold water through the gun, to both clean and cool the interior. By the time this was accomplished the hoist had another shell ready, and this was shoved in by the mechanical rammer. Brown prismatic powder followed, with a small quantity of black prismatic powder behind it, as a primer. Then the breech-block was swung into position and locked again, and the electrical connections were adjusted.
All this had been done almost in the time it takes to tell it, but the next shot was not discharged at once, since the various gunners had strict orders to take their time and make every discharge count. It was not like a pitched battle where every moment counted.
But though the gunners took their time, there were so many ships and so many guns that the firing was continuous—a spiteful cracking of rapidfiring guns, mingled with the thunder-claps of the gigantic thirteen-inch guns and the solid banging of the eight-inch and eight and ten pounders.
"This is war and no mistake," remarked Walter. In ten minutes his undershirt had become as black as a stove-cloth, and he himself looked almost like
