NOTE:  story begins at November 5 post

     Admiral Lee ducked to the right and to the left but was unable to escape from the shooting brands of fire.  On the shore the cheers at this exhibition rivaled the roar of a mighty waterfall but on board the good ship "White City", the admiral and his crew heard not the applause.
         "Great guns" or "Oh Fudge", or something that sounded like that or something else, yelled Admiral Lee:   "these pesky things are plugging me fore and aft.  Man the pumps!  Someone turn a hose on me!"  Deck hand Blackwell warded off a flying rocket with his bare hand and told the admiral to go get his own hose and man his own pumps.  Ensign Green cut away the masts and took a look towards the shore for the purpose of determining whether or not he could jump the distance.
         Goaded beyond endurance, the gallant admiral, unable to hold the exploding roman candles and rockets in his lap any longer, hurled them to the bottom of the boat and jumping to the forward deck he hurled himself into the lake and as he went over the side a giant rocket shot after him puncturing his trousers about a foot below the waist line.
         As the admiral's head appeared above the surface of the water, he turned toward the burning ship and in a deeply grieved voice shouted:  "What, ho, my men - would you shoot your brave admiral when his back is turned"?
                                                                    (TO BE CONTINUED)