One of the sailors from the regular crew of the tug moved along the
rail, mounting the fire signals one after the other for shooting.
Immediately behind him came Hogan, using his one good hand to fish
matches from his watch pocket and light the fuses.
The first rocket lit with a sputter, for a moment its fiery blowing
filled the deck with smoke, then it darted skyward, with a tremendous
swis-s-sh! Up, in a long black column it went, into the very heart of
the hot brazen sky, then it exploded with a faint pop, and a black head
of smoke expanded at a prodigious height. In the midst of the
smoke-filled deck, Hogan was applying his match to another. So as the
tug plowed forward, tall slender pillars of smoke, crowned with swelling
palm-like heads, arose to dizzy heights out of her path.
By this time huge shells were bursting about the _Vulcan_ with
crashing monotony. Sometimes the dodging little vessel ran through the
pungent gases of the shells that were sent to destroy her. Now and then
the giant missiles exploded under water and sent furious waterspouts
leaping over her decks. Something touched the top of her steel mainmast
and snapped it off as if it were a straw. A few minutes later the crew
had cleared the union jack from the wreckage and had it flaunting
defiantly from the forepeak.
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