The Belgian coast is but forty-two miles long, extending from Zeebrugge at the northern extremity to Ostend—–­the Atlantic City of Belgium—–­at the south, but there are a number of tiny harbors along the strip of coastline, and these were infested by the light draft German warships, particularly the destroyers.  The American submarines in particular were directing their attention toward these destroyers and seeking to kill them off as they dashed out of their “fox holes” for flying attacks against the allied navies.

One night, after a quiet day on patrol off the Belgian coast, the Dewey settled for the night close to shore at a point about five miles southwest of the Belgian coast town of Blankenberghe, a tiny fishing port with a small and almost land-locked harbor.  It was a strategic position directly on the course that would be taken by German destroyers out of Zeebrugge bound for a raid off Dunkirk or Calais.  Lying under the sea, the Dewey could hear approaching vessels.

Furthermore, Lieutenant McClure had reason to believe that German destroyers were making a rendezvous of the little harbor of Blankenberghe.  He was determined to find out and to “get somebody.”

Jack was on duty in the conning tower and Executive Officer Cleary in the control chamber underneath.  Floating here at a depth of one hundred and ten feet the Dewey was to spend the night resting and with a vigilant ear for any passing vessels.

Thousands of miles from home, more then a hundred feet deep down in the North Sea, bottled up in a submarine while the rest of his churns slept peacefully as though at home in their beds, the Brighton boy sat alone in the conning tower of the submerged Dewey.

“Some difference between where I am now and where I was a year ago this time!” he was reflecting, when he heard the night wireless operator reporting to Executive Officer Cleary the approach of a vessel overhead.

Jack descended into the control chamber and, at Officer Cleary’s direction, called Lieutenant McClure, who had turned in for several hours’ rest, leaving instructions that he be aroused in case any ships were reported overhead.

CHAPTER XIV

ON THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

Listening for a few moments at the microphones, McClure turned abruptly and rang the crew to quarters.

The engine room was signaled to tune up the motors.

“From the way that fellow is hugging the coast I wouldn’t be surprised if he is a Hun raider poking along on a little reconnaissance,” observed McClure to his executive officer.

Aroused from his slumber, Sammy Smith took charge of the electrical receiving room and after listening for awhile gave his opinion that the approaching ship was moving south along the Belgian coast and distant from the Dewey about a mile and a half.  From the faint registrations in the microphones he judged it to be a vessel of light draft—–­probably a small cruiser or a destroyer.