4:59:45 PM. I touched off the eight inches of waterproof fuse. Fifteen seconds later, it ignited the one hundred grains of Pyrodex in my eighty-eight caliber cannon. The twenty-seven pound steel contrivance jumped upward and rearward against the nylon braided line securing it to the boat dock's cleats. A five foot plume of white smoke shot down the dock and the ensuing explosion caused an echo to reverberate in a seeming counterclockwise direction around the four mile long lake. Six ever diminishing echoes could be heard as the concussion hit the various hillsides, exchanging and re-exchanging the powerful low frequency sound wave. THAT was cool.
It proved to be folly to try to see how far the .875 diameter steel ball was flung into the lake. We all decided it was WAY out there. I estimated somewhere between 600 and 1000 yards.
It was young Daniel's first hunting trip. His father and a friend brought him to the North Maine Woods to hunt partridge. They were staying in a cabin up the hill from our group. Daniel heard my cannon go off at five PM sharp (dinner time). He was looking closely at the cannon at 5:01. What twelve year old would'nt be enthralled with such a loud field piece? His first question; "Did you make that?" Next; "What does it shoot?" And it went on like that for about the three minutes it took me to reload the cannon. By that time, Daniel's father and their friend arrived on scene. Their first question; "You gonna shoot that again?" "Actually, right now." was my reply. "Excellent" came out of their mouths at the same instant.
I got Daniel situated behind a large bolder directly behind the cannon about 20 feet away, and gave him the task of trying to see how far the ball went. He had returned back to his cabin and borrowed his father's binoculars when I asked him to spot the shot. He was now returned to position behind the boulder, with his ear plugs in. "This is a "Plus P" shot" I stated with authority to the assembled crowd of ten. This powder charge was one hundred and twenty grains. I lit the fuse and walked back to my "safe" location. KA-BOOM!!! Well, that was a few decibels louder, I thought to myself. "Did you see the ball hit the water Daniel?" "Nope." "Oh well, we'll try again tomorrow"; I told him. And we did just that each night for the rest of the week. The "Eighty-Eight" was a rousing success.
My new Dan Wesson 10MM Valor was a success too. It did have one hiccup. Not a failure to feed, or failure to fire, or failure to extract. The hiccup was a loose rear sight. The first two shots were in the ten ring, the next was outside the six ring, and the next was off the paper. I said to myself what the heck is going on, I can't even hit the paper? After that magazine was empty, I happened to look at the pistol, and the rear sight had moved halfway out the dovetail. Luckily, I had my calipers and hex keys in my truck. I recentered the sight, and tightened its tiny socket head set screw. New magazine, and eight hits in the ten ring. All's right with the world.
Everyone makes mistakes, and I would have to guess in their haste to ship the pistol by my "deadline", they missed tightening the rear sight. Should it have happened to a pistol costing more than a couple of grand? No. But it did, and it was not a fatal error. It was easily corrected. If the sight had fallen completely out, and then fell into the long grass and black shale...lost...well...that would be another kettle of fish. The Valor performed wonderfully. Another five hundred rounds, and it will be mostly broken in.
Oh by the way, our group managed to bag 28 partridge. Not too shabby for five old farts and a couple of thirty-something's. I think Daniel will remember my cannon for a long time. It sure made those bald eagles leave their perches when it went off. Come to think of it, the loon down the shoreline was none to pleased either. He came back every night though. Must have been good fishing in that spot.
Shoot straight, and do the right thing.
Gaff
