Under the Meteor Flag: Log of a Midshipman during the French Revolutionary War
He went about the work with much deliberation and a great display of science, and at length, watching a favourable opportunity, fired. In another moment a white sear started into view near the Frenchman’s rudder and close to the water’s edge.

“Hulled him! by all that’s clever,” exclaimed the first luff, while the gratified Tompion looked slowly round upon his messmates, with modest pride beaming from every feature.

“Returned, with thanks,” murmured young Harvey, who was stationed close beside me, as a puff of smoke veiled for an instant the stern of our antagonist; and then the shot was seen bounding toward us, its path marked by the jets of water which flew up wherever the ball struck. At last it was seen to scurry along the surface for a short distance; finally disappearing within about fifty fathoms of our bows.

“Try another shot there, forward,” said the skipper, “and aim for his spars. A guinea to the first man who knocks away a spar big or little.”

Every man in the ship was of course anxious to try his hand, and Mr Sennitt was obliged to interfere, with the view of allowing the best shots to have the first chance.

Some curiously indifferent shooting now ensued, the very eagerness of the men seeming to render them unsteady. I had strolled forward to watch the game, and, after several most exasperating misses, exclaimed, “I should like very much to try; I believe I could do better than that.”

“Then try you shall, youngster,” said Mr Sennitt; “the first shot a man ever fires is often a very lucky one, and perhaps yours may be so. You shall fire the next shot.”

While the gun was being loaded, Tompion availed himself of the opportunity to deliver a short lesson on gunnery, for my especial benefit, of which all that I remember was that he attached great importance to the “trajectory,” and was eloquent on the subject of the “parabolic curve.”

I had watched with much impatience the very scrupulous nicety with which most of the men pretended to lay the gun, and I was strongly impressed with the conviction that over-carefulness had much to do with their repeated failures; I took very little trouble, therefore, beyond seeing that the muzzle of the gun had a good elevation, after which I simply waited, squinting along the sights, until I saw that the weapon was just about to come in line with the Frenchman’s masts, when I pulled the trigger-line smartly, and was dragged 
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