“They have gone completely over us,” came the announcement from the wireless room.

Hardly had the electrician concluded the report before the Dewey was rocked by another submarine detonation—–­the explosion of a second depth bomb.  This time it was farther from the hiding vessel; however, the ship was shaken until every electric light blinked in its socket.

“I hope they soon get done with their Fourth of July celebration,” remarked Bill Witt by way of a bit of subsea repartee.

“That’s the way they blow holes in their schweitzer cheese,” ventured Mike Mowrey with a chuckle.

It was decided to submerge a little deeper and then leisurely inspect the interior hull aft.  An observation with the microphones disclosed the fact that the destroyer was moving out into the North Sea.

“Guess they think they got us that time,” suggested Lieutenant McClure to his executive officer.

“Was rather a close call, come to think of it,” smiled Cleary.

The latter went aft with Chief Engineer Blaine for the hull inspection and returned in a few moments to say that, so far as could be observed from the interior, she had not been dealt a severe blow.  The executive officer ventured the opinion that the keel of the destroyer had brushed along the aft deck, thus accounting for the fact that the submarine had suddenly been tilted downward at the stern.

“We’ll not dare submerge too deep,” said Lieutenant McClure.  “Pressure against our hull increases, you know, at the rate of four and a quarter pounds to the square inch for every ten feet we submerge.  It may be our plates were weakened by that collision.  We’ll go down to one hundred feet and lie there until these ships get out of the way.”

The depth dial showed eighty feet.  More water, accordingly, was shipped and the Dewey slipped away to the desired depth, when the intake of ballast ceased and the tiny vessel floated alone in the sea.  Determined to take no more chances with the Kaiser’s navy until he had ascertained the true condition of his own vessel, Lieutenant McClure decided to lie-to here in safety.

When the raiders had departed he would ascend and make a more detailed external inspection of the hull.

It was half-past two.  Jean Cartier superintended the distribution of hot coffee and light “chow” and the crew made themselves comfortable in their submarine home.

Half an hour later, when it had been determined by the telephones that the German ships had moved on westward, the Dewey began again to ascend the depths.

Early dawn was streaking the sky with tints of orange gray when at last the submarine poked its periscopes above the waves.  Not a ship was in sight; there was not a trace of the battle cruiser that the Dewey had sent to her doom during the earlier hours of the night.

“Didn’t have a chance, did they?” Ted said to his churn in contemplation of the fate of the German warship.