The Submarine Hunters

The spokes of the steam steering-gear revolved quicker than they had ever done before. Listing heavily to port, the Tremendous turned with a rapidity that belied her huge bulk and apparent unhandiness. A double track of ever-diverging foam marked the progress of the deadly missile. Another followed almost in its wake, both torpedoes travelling at the speed of an express train.

For four seconds all on board who watched these messages of death stood with bated breath. Then a general roar of relief went up as the two "tinfish" glided harmlessly past the ship, the nearest at a distance of less than twenty feet, and parallel to the new course of the battleship.

Half a dozen quick-firers spat viciously. A 6-inch, two of which for some obscure reason the designers had placed on the main deck abreast of the after 15-inch guns, added to the din. A chaos of smoke, flame, and spray marked the spot beneath which U77 had lurked to launch her cowardly and treacherous bolt.

"That's blinded her, at least," thought Bourne.

He knew that even if the hidden submarine had escaped injury, a minute at least would elapse before she could be conned into a position to discharge another torpedo. That minute would be enough for his purpose.

"Starboard!" he ordered. "Ram her, quartermaster!"

Round swung the 24,000 tons of dead weight, steadied, and bore down upon the motionless U75. Cries of terror burst from the doomed crew, many of whom leapt overboard in a vain attempt to swim clear of the vengeful leviathan.

Bourne gripped the guard-rail, half expecting to be thrown violently by the force of the impact. He was mistaken.

With hardly a tremor the bows of the Tremendous crashed into the unterseeboot, hitting her just abaft the conning-tower. The bow portion sank like a stone. The after part reared itself high in the air, revealing the curiously shaped stern, the two propellers, and the complication of rudders. Then, before the cloud of smoke and spray had time to drift inboard, the Tremendous was over and beyond the ever-widening circle of iridescent oil that marked the ocean grave of yet another of the would-be blockaders of Britain's shores.

Even in the midst of his great responsibility Bourne's keen eye discerned two heads bobbing up and down in the water. The midshipman noticed them too.

"They are those fellows who hauled down the white flag, sir," he exclaimed. "They are quite youngsters, too, and we daren't stop."

"No, we dare not," agreed the Lieutenant. For aught he knew, another unterseeboot might be in the vicinity, reserving her torpedoes in the hope that the battleship would slow down to investigate. "Pass the word to the sentry to let go the Kisbie. It's the best we can do."

With a splash the patent lifebuoy was dropped from the cage at the extremity of the navigation-bridge. It bobbed up again under the battleship's quarter, emitting a dense cloud of calcium smoke as it did so. By the time the marine had dropped the Kisbie the ship was a quarter of a mile away from the two swimmers.

"It's the best we can do," repeated Bourne as he closed the eyepiece of his telescope. "They may fetch it, they are swimming strongly."

"Well done, Mr. Bourne!" exclaimed a deep voice.

Turning, the Lieutenant faced the Captain standing beside him.

"A smart manoeuvre!" continued the skipper approvingly. "We can now only carry on; but we'll wireless the Commander-in-Chief Devonport, and report that there are survivors from the rammed submarine. He'll have a destroyer patrol on the spot within an hour, and I hope it won't be too late."

Bourne stepped to the extremity of the bridge and glanced astern. His effort to distinguish the heads of the two swimmers was fruitless, for a thin haze, the smoke from the ship's funnel, spread far in her wake, completely obliterating the spot where Ross Trefusis and Vernon Haye were swimming for dear life.

It will be necessary to set back the hands of the clock in order to follow the fortunes of Ross and his chum.

"Is she slowing down?" whispered Vernon anxiously, as they stood on the deck of U75 awaiting the approach of the Tremendous.

"I don't think so," replied Ross. "But now's our time."

The attention of Schwalbe and his crew was centred upon the battleship; the Kapitan momentarily expecting to see the huge vessel reel under the impact of the terrible torpedo, while the men began to entertain grave doubts as to whether the British ship would accept their token of surrender. The fact that the super-Dreadnought showed no signs of slowing down revived Kapitan Schwalbe's doubts. Knowing the difficulty of hitting, even at a comparatively short range, a swiftly moving target, he began to wonder whether he did the right thing in falling in with von Hoffner's diabolical plan.