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Boo-oom! The explosion was a dull and sullen one, but loud enough to make the blood of the submarine boys tingle. A column of spray shot up, followed by detached whiffs of smoke, for the torpedo had exploded beneath the surface. In the same instant a sound of rending timbers reached their ears. Then the scow where was it? Only the waters rolled where the scow had been.
Boo-oom! plunk goes one hundred pounds o' money to the bottom o' the sea; an' close after it goes the fish! You may take my word 'tis first throwin' away the helve and then the hatchet. I could never see any sense in War, for my part; an' I remember bein' very much impressed, back at the bye-election, by a little man who came down uninvited in a check ulster and a straw hat.
An expected air-raid would be announced by policemen running through the streets on bicycles, on their chests and back were signs: AIR RAID ON. They also blew whistles. The great search-lights would sweep the skies, and by and by there would be a great banging of barrage guns. Bang, bang, bang that would be the defense guns. Boom! That would be a bomb. Bang, bang, bang, and Boo-oom!
There was a moment's pause, and then "boo-oom," and again two curves of light were marked along the dark sky, and the great shells descended upon the rebel works, exploding with a terrific crash. Still no reply from the rebel guns.
I be a modest man, content with understandin' pilchards; and if you'd ever taken that trouble, Zack Mennear Boo-oom! there it goes again! you'd know that, soon as they hear gunfire, or feel it for their senses don't tally with mine, or even with yours plumb deep the fish sink.
Prescott was a good listener, putting in a question now and then. So at least another hour passed. Then Boo-oom! That crash was so close at hand that it seemed as though the earth must open. Tom's first startled glance was at the sky. Then, with a whisking sound, several fragments of something passed over their heads. "We're being bombarded?" gasped Tom inquiringly.
Shall we walk out to the cliffs for a sight of her?" "Boo-oom!" echoed Un' Benny Rowett on the Quay, mocking the noise of the cannonade. "War bloody war, my hearties! There goes a hundred pound o' taxpayers' money; an' there go all our pilchards for this season, the most promisin' in my recollection."
Not a cannon replied from our lines; only at intervals, for a while, would growl out that "boo-oom," and above the flash of bursting shells and flaming cannon would rise those two little points of light, curving slowly upward and then down, with a seeming deliberation that contrasted oddly with the whirl and bustle below. This continued a few minutes, and the "boo-oom" ceased.
'That War, my friends, he said, 'has cost us, first an' last, two hundred an' fifty millions of money and 'oo paid for it? You an' me. Boo-oom! once more! That's the way the money goes, an', more by token, here comes Pamphlett to know what the row's about, an' with the loose cash, I'se wage, fairly skipping in his trouser-pockets."
While we were in our compartments, the train all made up, there came a banging of barrage guns bang, bang, bang with now and then the boo-oom! of a bomb. While we were waiting there we heard the crash of shrapnel coming through the glass roof. By and by another bunch of shrapnel fell with a fine ringing of metal on the concrete platform alongside the train. No harm done.
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