This time, when Tom pressed the button there was such a tremendous concussion that several, who were not prepared for it, were knocked back against their neighbors or sent toppling off their chairs or benches. And as for the report, it was so deafening that for a long time after it many could not hear well.
But Tom, and those who knew the awful power of the big cannon, wore specially prepared ear-drum protectors, that served to reduce the shock.
"What is it?" called Tom to the wireless operator, who was receiving the range distance from the marking ship.
"A little less than twenty-nine miles."
"We must do better than that," said Tom. "I'll use more powder, and try one of the newer shells. I'll elevate the gun a trifle, too."
Again came that terrific report, that trembling of the ground, that concussion, that blast of air as it rushed in to fill the vacuum caused, and then the vibrating echoes.
"I think you must have gone the limit this time, Tom!" yelled Ned, as he turned on the compressed air to blow the powder fumes and unconsumed bits of explosive from the gun tube.
"Possibly," admitted Tom. "Here comes the report." The wireless operator waved a slip of paper.
