“Great!” he exclaimed.  “Some more of the Kaiser’s vaunted navy trying to sneak away from their home base for a bit of trickery.”

As he rang the engine room to shut off power, the American commander added, with flashing eyes: 

“If we don’t bring down one of these prowlers before this night is over I’ll go back home and ship as deckhand on a Jersey City ferry-boat.”

Suspended fifty feet below the surface of the sea, the Dewey floated like a cork in a huge basin while her officers took further observations on the movements of the German warships above them.  Now that their presence was known the American officers realized they would be accorded a stiff reception when they next went “up top.”.

“I’m going to try it,” announced McClure shortly.  “We’ll take a chance and pay our respects to one of their tubs.”

The Dewey forthwith began to rise.  At the direction of the navigating officer two hundred pounds of ballast were expelled.  Tilting fore and aft like a rocking horse, the submersible responded gradually to the lightening process until at last the depth dial showed only a margin of several feet needed to lift the eyes of the periscopes above the waves.  The little steel-encased clock in the conning tower showed ten minutes past one—–­just about the right time for a night raiding party to be getting under way.

“Guess we’ll lie here and wait for them to come along,” whispered McClure to Cleary as the periscopes popped up out of the depths into the night gloom.

“We seem to be right in their path and may be able to get one of them as he shoots across our bow,” added Cleary as he took another telephone report from the wireless room.

According to Sammy Smith’s observations there were two vessels coming up to starboard, while the third, the one the Dewey had missed, was dim in the port microphone and almost out of range.  Engines shut off, the submarine lay entirely concealed, awaiting the coming of her prey.  It was McClure’s idea to lie perfectly still in the water until one of the enemy warships swung right into the range glass of the Dewey and then give it a stab of steel—–­a sting in the dark from a hidden serpent!

The waiting moments seemed like hours.  Gradually, however, the leader of the silent ships drew nearer.  There was no mistaking the telltale reports in the wireless room.  Basing his calculations on the chief electrician’s reports, McClure figured the leader of the oncoming squadron to be now not more than half a mile away and moving steadily forward toward the desired range—–­a dead line on the bow of the Dewey.

Executive Officer Cleary at the reserve periscope was first to detect the mass of steel looming up out of the darkness.  Lieutenant McClure swung his periscope several degrees to starboard and drew a bead on the German warship an instant later.

“We’ll drop this chap just as he shoots across our bow,” declared the Dewey’s commander.