'That's better,' said Dimmock, as a flash of flame rose from the midships
section of the tug. 'Ah, there goes her funnel! She's a goner.'
He was right. The tug swung round to the current, and, with engines
stopped, drifted idly down the Straits.
'What's the matter? They haven't begun to fire yet,' said Roy quickly, as
he thrust a third shell into the open breech.
[Illustration: 'Up shot a sheet of crimson flame.']
'So much the better for us,' Ken answered. 'Mr Dimmock, this one ought to
do for the nearest barge.'
Hastily Dimmock sighted again at the blunt, low-lying object which loomed
dimly ahead in the wet darkness.
Once more the smart little gun spoke, but the crack of the report had
hardly sounded before it was drowned by the most appalling crash. Up from
the stricken barge shot a sheet of crimson flame, a blaze of fire which
mounted a hundred feet into the murky air, and in spite of fog and mist
flung its glare upon the iron cliffs on either side the narrow straits.
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