THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS
and clatter. Sleep was gone now, and he hurried to his station. Shells were already coming up, and as Nelson fell in the command of "Stations!" was given. Through the port, as he sprang to the training wheel, lay a segment of choppy, drab ocean across which a gray destroyer was hurtling with clouds of oily smoke whirling back from her four stacks. A leaden sky was overhead and a sea-mist hung like a curtain a few miles away. From the destroyer came a flash of pale rosy light and the sharp bark of a four-inch gun.
"Bore clear!"
"Load!"
A geyser of water shot into the air astern of the destroyer.
"Rotten shooting, Fritz!" muttered a shellman as he rammed home. Waiting, Nelson peered tensely into the mist. Once he thought he saw a gray shadow there, but was not certain. "Ready!" The officer spoke sharply into the telephone. Then they waited, plugman, pointer, trainer, sight setter, shellmen and powdermen. A second destroyer reeled past at a good thirty knots, a "Limie" this time, her siren blowing hysterically as she demanded sea room.
"Gangway for Lord Goldashington," murmured the sight setter.
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