The Onslaught from Rigel
cauldron.

Instead of the darkness he had expected, the deck was flung into dazzling illumination.

He tumbled onto the deck, running forward to trip the release of the anchor chain. At the break of the forecastle, he stumbled, and the stumble saved him, for at that moment another of the bombs fell, just in front of the fore-deck gun. The whole bow of the ship seemed to burst into intense, eye-searing flame. Deafened and blinded, Murray lay face down on the deck, trying to recover his senses; behind him the others, equally overwhelmed, tumbled on the iron surface, rolling over and over, blindly.

But the birds, apparently unaware of how heavy a blow they had struck, seemed wary of the gun. The four groveling on the deck heard scream and answering scream above them as the monsters discussed the question on the wing. If they reached a decision it was too late, for McAllister and O'Hara, blind, drunk and sick though they were, staggered to the gun and sent a shot shrieking at wild venture into the heavens. Beeville, nearer to the blinding blaze of light, recovered more slowly, but found his way to the bridge where he fumblingly pulled the engine-room telegraph over to "Full Speed Ahead."

Below, in the bowels of the vessel, there was a rumble of activity; a rapid whoosh of steam came from an exhaust pipe, a dash of sparks from the destroyer's funnels, and slowly and haltingly she began to move. Bang! went the anti-aircraft gun. Beeville heard Murray climbing the bridge behind him and then his cry, "The anchor!"

Too late—with a surge that changed to a rattle, the destroyer moved, tearing the anchor from its ground and swinging slowly half-way round as the weight dragged the damaged bow to one side. At that moment came another bomb which, but for their motion, would have struck fair and square amidships. Bang! Bang! went the anti-aircraft gun. Murray dragged at the wheel, then swung the engine-room telegraph back to "Stop." Just in time—the destroyer's bottom grated on something, her prow rent the side of a big speed-boat and she came to rest, pointing diagonally upstream.

Fortunately the attack broke off as rapidly as it had begun. A few screams, lost in the darkness of the night were the only answer to another shell from the gun. But there was no assurance that this was more than a temporary respite. Murray and Beeville strove desperately to bring the warped bridge mechanism into running order while O'Hara routed out a blow-torch from somewhere and attacked the anchor chain, now welded into a solid mass with the 
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