Ned's attention was instantly turned to the ensign, awaiting fresh orders. Had it not been for that, he would have seen something transpiring on the whaleboat which would have filled him with rage. Kennell it was who had charge of the stern boathook. His station was on the small grating astern of the petty officer's seat. On this grating Herc, too, was standing. As the boat was shoved off, Herc felt his feet suddenly twitched from under him, and the next minute he toppled headlong into the sea. The crew of the boat, bending to their oars at top speed--for they knew that the deadly projectile would soon be winging toward them--apparently did not see what had occurred, and bent over their oars without a thought of Herc's peril. Kennell, with an evil grin on his hard features, clambered back into the boat with the look on his face of a man who has done a good day's work. At the speed at which the whaleboat was urged through the water, it was out of earshot by the time Herc rose to the surface. Indeed, the unexpected immersion had resulted in his swallowing so much water that he was unable to shout. Blowing a stream of water from his lips, he struck out for the nearest target, the one which had just been replaced. "I'll just camp there till they see me," he thought. A few strokes brought him alongside the float once more, and he scrambled up its wet sides, not without some difficulty. In fact, when he gained the flat upper surface of the target's support he was breathing heavily. The sea, too, had risen since they had rowed out, and one of those sudden squalls that are so common in the tropics was whirling in from seaward. Herc did not see this, however--the mighty screen of canvas behind him veiled it from the boy's view. The men in the boats had, however, spied the approaching bad weather, and orders were given to get up spray hoods in the bows of the craft. "Well," thought Herc, "I'm being rocked in the cradle of the deep with a vengeance. However, I get a little rest from that eternal wig-wagging. That's one comfort." Suddenly a thought struck him that sent a cold shiver down his spine. In his new-found security he had given no thought to a peril that now loomed imminent. He was seated on the float at which the flagship was firing. At any moment they might send another shot toward it, and then what would happen? "I'll signal them," thought Herc; but even as the thought entered his mind he recollected that as he had gone overboard the flags had gone with him. He was marooned on a floating target, with every prospect of having a twelve-inch shell come shrieking toward him at any moment. Suddenly Herc saw a string of flags hoisted on the flagship. Instinctively he knew what they meant. Ned, his cousin and chum, had signaled that all was ready, and the _Connecticut_ was about to open fire!