The Submarine Hunters

From the place where the midshipmen stood, they were not able to follow the track of the formidable missiles; but they had not long to wait. Both torpedoes struck almost simultaneously—one abreast of the for'ard dummy turret, the other fifty feet farther aft.

High in the air rose a column of water mingled with fragments of iron plating; while in their place of hiding the two lads were smothered with cork-dust and blackened cotton that had been blown from the space betwixt the outer and inner hulls.

"It's lucky for us that they didn't use their quick-firers," remarked Barry. "They would have pulverized us before our destroyers romped up. By Jove, Haye, that dog of yours looks as though he likes it! Hulloa! There you are!"

The Lieutenant-Commander pointed to the southward. A rift in the mist disclosed a two-masted, two-funnelled armoured cruiser about two miles off.

"The Prinz Heinrich or the Fürst Bismarck," declared Barry. "We've turned 'em out. Hope to goodness our little lot will be in time to snap them up. Unless I'm much mistaken, there are two more astern of her."

Almost as he spoke, a spurt of flame rent the dull sky. Then, to the accompaniment of a vivid flash and an ear-splitting detonation, a 5.9-inch shell burst against the for'ard dummy turret of the Hunbilker.

When the smoke had cleared away, guns, turret, and conning-tower, together with a portion of the bridge, had vanished.

"All hands abandon ship!" ordered Barry, as a salvo of light projectiles flew round, over, and through the decoy.

It was quite time. Several men had been hit, since there was nothing to afford complete protection from the hail of shells. The difficulty was to find a boat that was seaworthy, since these suffered almost at once from the flying fragments of metal.

"Hurrah, sir!" shouted one of the men. "There are our destroyers."

He was right. Seven British destroyers were tearing through the water, intent upon giving the Germans the punishment that they had boasted to inflict upon the strafed Englishmen—a hussar stroke.

Instantly the galling fire ceased. The German cruiser had all her work cut out to endeavour to beat off her wasp-like antagonists.

The Hunbilker was doomed. In spite of elaborate precautions against fire, she was burning furiously. Her fo'c'sle was a mass of flames, generated by the intense heat of the first shell that had struck her. Smaller fires, too, had started in other parts of the ship.

But help was at hand. One of the covering destroyers had witnessed her plight. Adroitly manoeuvring, she came right alongside the burning ship.

"Jump, men!" shouted Barry.

There was no time to be lost. The danger of the flames communicating with the shells and war-heads on the destroyer's deck was to be taken into consideration.

"Come on, old man!" exclaimed Ross, as his chum looked anxiously about him.

"Where's Shrap?" asked Vernon. "He was here a minute ago."

In the confusion, occasioned by the rush of men to leap upon the destroyer, the dog had vanished.

Without a word Vernon ran towards the companion leading to the half-deck. Above the roar of the flames and the hissing of steam, he had heard the well-known bark of his pet.

"Silly ass!" muttered Ross; but he, too, followed his chum.

Wreaths of thin smoke were issuing from the companion as Ross gained the head of the ladder. Putting his muffler round his mouth, he groped his way down. 'Tween decks the air was full of smoke. He could hear Shrap's insistent bark, and Vernon's voice as, amidst fits of coughing, he called to his canine companion.

"Whatever is the matter with the brute?" thought Ross, as he fought his way along the half-deck.

A gaping hole in the ship's side admitted sufficient light to enable him to discern his comrade backing from one of the cabins. Shrap was preceding him, while Vernon was dragging something limp and heavy. It was the body of the luckless A. P.

Without a word, for the atmosphere was hot and choky, Ross bore a hand. Stumbling and slipping, the two lads bore their burden to the companion, and by dint of much exertion carried Jolly on deck.

"Is he dead?" asked Ross, after he had refilled his lungs with less smoke-laden air.

"I don't think so," said Vernon. "It was good old Shrap that found him."

The A. P. was below when the salvo from the German cruiser struck the ship. He had gone to the cabin temporarily allotted to him to obtain some small but cherished belonging. A fragment from one of the shells had inflicted a nasty scalp wound, stretching him senseless upon the floor.

Had it not been for the sheep-dog, whose sagacity made him recognize that Jolly was a friend of his master's, the A. P. would have ended his career in the burning hull of the Hunbilker.

"Hurry up!" exclaimed Ross. "Let's get him aboard the destroyer."

Between them they carried the insensible officer across the quarter-deck, but as they reached the side abreast the wreckage of the superstructure they came to an abrupt halt.