The Battleship Boys' First Step Upward Part 13

"Sh-h-h," warned Dan. "Haven't you learned what that is yet?"

"No."

"Dotter practice is target work in miniature. Listen! The gun captain is going to explain it to us."

"Some of you understand the dotter," began the gun captain. "For the benefit of those of you who do not I will explain. The dotter is a little contrivance on the gun, which enables you to shoot at a target and proves your marksmans.h.i.+p. By looking through the finder you will see a little target that moves up and down like a s.h.i.+p at sea. When the crossed wires of your finder are right on the target you pull the trigger. A black spot will appear on the target--a dot, showing where your shot struck if you have hit the target at all. We call it a dotter because it makes a dot where it hits."

"And the dotter makes you dotty," muttered Sam under his breath, yet loudly enough so that the man next to him heard it. The fellow laughed aloud, bringing down a sharp rebuke from the gun captain.

"Hickey, try your hand at the dotter."

Sam climbed up to the little platform on the right side of the gun, winking at his companions as he did so.

"What shall I do now?" he questioned, taking his place.

"Sight through the finder. I'll set the target going."

"Yes, I see it. I'm afraid that thing will make me seasick if I keep on looking at it," declared Hickey, looking up at the instructor.

"Attend to your practice!"

"Bang!"

Sam leaped up into the air. His head came into violent contact with the deck above him.

"Ouch!" yelled the red-headed boy, as he collapsed in a heap on the deck.

Sam had unwittingly pulled the trigger, firing the cap that bad been provided to explode the dotter, thus making the miniature target work the more realistic.

"Did something hit me? I--I thought the seven-inch had gone off,"

stammered the boy, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing his head where it had hit the ceiling.

"Just like a landlubber," growled the gun captain. "You'll make a fine gun pointer, you will."

"I--I didn't know the thing was going off," complained Hickey.

"I suppose, if we were to fire the piece in earnest, you would jump overboard," sneered the captain. "Get up there, now, and do it right, if you want to stay in this division."

Sam took his place once more, the gun captain giving him suggestions and directions as to how to catch the moving target when it was moving upward as a s.h.i.+p does in riding a great swell.

"Bang!"

Sam had pulled the trigger, but this time he had done so intentionally.

Instinctively the lad jumped, grinning sheepishly as he noted the smiles on the faces of his companions of the gun crew.

"Well, what is your score?"

"Score?"

"Yes. Did you hit the target?"

"I don't know."

"Look at the target."

"I see a fly speck over by the edge of the target," spoke up Sam.

"That is where your shot struck. Had you been shooting at a battles.h.i.+p you might have raked her stern, but I reckon you would not have done her very great damage. However, it was not a half-bad shot for a landlubber. Number three, take your place."

The man indicated made an even worse shot than had Hickey, though he had been practising with the dotter for three weeks.

"You never will do at this work," decided the gun captain. "About all you will be good for will be to clean bright work and pa.s.s along ammunition. Davis, let's see what you can do."

Dan was all expectation. He could hardly wait for his turn at the gun.

"You understand how to work it?"

"I think so."

"Take your time. Make sure of your mark, then let go quickly. You will find in actual target work, or in shooting at an enemy, that a fraction of a second's delay will ordinarily roll the target out of your range. Better to shoot a second too soon than a second too late."

Dan was peering through the sights, his eye fixed on the pin-head opening. One hand crept slowly to the trigger. It rested there for a few seconds without a tremor. His nerves were steady and true.

"Bang!"

"What luck?"

"Squarely in the center. That's what I should call a bull's eye,"

announced Dan Davis triumphantly. "Am I right, sir?"

"Yes; you hit the mark all right. It may have been a chance shot."

"I think not, sir. I will see if I can do it again."

Dan applied his eye to the finder. An instant's hesitation, then there followed the sharp report of the dotter.

"Once more in the center, sir. Shall I fire again?"

"No. You've sunk the s.h.i.+p, young man. You have put the enemy out of business. You are not only going to make a splendid gunner, but you are far above the average already."

Ere Dan could express his thanks the bugle blew, piping gun crews down to other duties.

CHAPTER VIII

SAM GETS A PIG'S FOOT