"Now, if Danny Grin's craft would only come in that close!" sighed
Greg happily.
But it didn't. Once in a while Prescott and Holmes could make
out the craft commanded by Dan Dalzell, but it didn't come in
close enough for a hail.
Bang! sounded a destroyer's gun, far ahead.
Bang! came as if in answer from the bowgun of the leading transport.
"There are the Huns, and here is the scrap coming!" yelled a corporal
perched up in the bow of the ship.
Bang! Bang!
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" Cheers went up in such volume as to be deafening.
"Tell the men to stop that cheering," shouted Major Wells, in
order to make Dick and Greg hear him. "And tell them that no
more men are to crowd the rail on either side. No noise, and
nothing to make the ship list!"
Going down three steps at a time, Dick and Greg descended the
companionway forward of the pilot house.
"No cheering!" shouted Prescott, pushing his way through the throng.
"Quiet!"
With Dick moving through the masses of soldiers on the port side
of the deck, and Greg performing a similar office on the starboard
side, quiet was soon restored.
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