’Come on! Let’s run!’ we shouted, and doubled along behind the cart. At the top of the ridge it stopped, half-a-dozen chaps, who were waiting there, pounced on it, opened the back, and lugged out some 4.7 shells. Then we knew the guns couldn’t be far off. ’Come on!’ we shouted. ’Here’s a go!’ and each got hold of a shell and tramped along after the grinning natives. We found the guns just behind the top of the ridge, dumped down our shells, and doubled back for more, meeting young Marchant staggering along with one under each arm. We burst out laughing, because he’d shipped such a funny, excited ’death or glory’ look on his face. ’Go it, young Inkslinger!’ we yelled, and rushed along to the cart. Two fresh wagons had come along with some more shells and cartridge-boxes, more men too, and it was as good as a gun-room ’scrap.’ Officers were shouting and yelling, the soldiers were panting and running backwards and forwards, and the _Hector’s_ gun-room jolly well took a leading part, unlocking the cartridge-boxes, slinging out the brass cylinders of cordite—the beauties—and keeping things humming. Even some of the women chipped in, dropping their bundles and children, and carrying shells to the guns. The ships were passing the town now—we could just see them by popping our heads over the top of the ridge—and they fired off a few rounds. We heard the shells bursting in the town, not anywhere near us, but the noise was enough for most of the native soldiers, who dropped whatever they were carrying and grovelled on the ground. The rest of them were more plucky, and carried on unloading the wagons, but by the time they were empty, and all the ammunition had been carried across to the guns, the fleet had anchored two miles below us and past the town. Almost immediately the troops began coming ashore from the transports, and the insurgent officers worked themselves into a tremendous state of excitement, gesticulating and pointing down to the cruisers, and getting their two guns’ crews round the guns. We thought that they would open fire in a minute, so climbed up the slope between them, and lay there to watch what would happen. What did happen was that a shell came along and burst in some trees close by, making a most beastly noise, and when we looked round, both the guns’ crews were squirming on their bellies. ’Why the dickens don’t you open fire?’ we yelled, and Barton and Sarah Jane jumped down and began kicking them. They pulled an officer out from under one of the guns and shook him, singing out, ’Fire! Fire! Bang! Bang!’ ’_Mucho malo! mucho malo!_’ was all he could jolly well say, he was shaking all over, and when another shell came lolloping along over our heads, he bolted under the gun again like a rabbit. ’On the word "action," officers hide under their guns,’ the ’Angel’ laughed.