every now and again the earth shook to the explosion of a shell. While they were asking him questions about himself, and Vera Cruz, and the Mexicans (for whom they appeared to feel much scorn) there was a fresh hullaballoo, somewhere in the main trench. Up they sprang, to crowd and gaze.
"Another pill-tosser to feed the bloomin' dons," they cried. "Hooray!"
And here, through the trench, there came one of the great naval guns: first, rounding an elbow, a long double file of sailors, stripped to the waist, leaning low to a rope and tugging like horses; then the breech of the gun, then high wheels upon which it had been mounted, with other sailors wrestling at them; then the immensely long barrel, with still other sailors pushing at this clear to the muzzle.
A bo's'n trudged beside, urging the work. When the gun stuck for a moment crowbars were thrust under the wheels—
"Heave-ho! Together, now! Heave-ho!"
"Aye, aye! Heave-ho!"
"Heave, my bullies!"
And they panted a song:
"'Way down Rio, Rio, Rio!
'Way down Rio, Oh!'"
The gun went surging by.
"We'll be needed up for'd, maties," said one of the sailor squad. "Young 'un, you set your course the direction you were steering."
They mopped their mouths with the backs of their tarry fists and lurched on after the cannon.
Jerry proceeded. Next, but not much farther,
