One of them striking the hull of the
_Dewey_ would blow the ship into atoms!
"Keep it up, boys! Make every shot count!" sang out Commander McClure.
Mike Mowrey was growling because he was unable to make a hit. "Let's
get one of 'em---just one of 'em!" he bellowed in rage.
One of the winged fleet was circling almost overhead at this moment
and seemed tantalizing near. With a twist of the wheel Mowrey swung
the muzzle of his gun up a couple of inches and gave the signal again
to fire. Following the shot for a moment the frenzied gunner was
elated to note that the machine just above sagged suddenly to one side.
Like a bird with a broken pinion it swerved drunkenly in its course
and began slowly to come down. Sustaining wires had been cut by the
shell fire from the _Dewey_ and the airplane was out of commission.
"Guess that fellow is done for," said Mowrey.
It was soon evident that the machine was badly crippled, for it came
on downward like a feather floating in the still air.
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