“Am I dreaming?” Jack asked himself incredulously, “or is the village being attacked?”

For answer came another shell that ripped its way clean through the frame building in which he was housed, bursting with a roar that brought the flimsy structure crashing down upon the head of the imprisoned boy.  Blinded by the dust and splinters, he fought his way madly through the mass of debris until he emerged clear of the wreck.  The first thing he stumbled upon was the body of the German sentry who had been posted outside the guardhouse.  He had been struck down by a fragment of the shell and blood flowed from an ugly wound in the head.

Jack paused only long enough to rip off the sidearms and ammunition belt of the stricken German and then ran pell-mell across the open space that fronted the old guardhouse to one of the village streets up which the stream of German sailors had vanished.  As he got an unbroken view up the street and on to the higher ground that stretched away from the village, Jack beheld a pitched battle in progress with a skirmish line stretched out as far as the eye could carry.  The Germans had raffled to the defense of their hiding place and had hurriedly thrown up an emplacement for their machine guns.  “Crack—–­crack——­crack!” came the spitting of the rifles, interspersed now and then with the louder detonation of light artillery.

Whoever they were, whether English, French, or American, Jack saw at a glance that the village had been attacked.  He thought of the U-boat at the wharf and forthwith decided that his bit in the spectacular drama now being staged was to prevent the escape of the craft.  Hurriedly retracing his steps, he made for the wharf, running at top speed and drawing the revolver he had appropriated from the wounded sentry.  As he came dashing down to the wharf he discerned a German at the quay-post endeavoring to cast off the towline.

“Drop that rope!” he commanded.  The German turned, saw the approaching boy and the menacing pistol.  He threw up his hands instantly.

“Now get aboard as fast as you can,” commanded Jack, pointing the way over the gangplank, after he had relieved his captive of a brace of revolvers.  Jack followed hard on the steps of the German and once on the deck of the U-boat, ordered the fellow below.

“Close that hatch as you go down and keep it closed,” ordered Jack.  “And if there are any more below deck tell them to stay right where they are.  If anybody shows head above deck I’ll blow out his brains.”

Soon Jack was in command of the situation.  Making sure that the submarine was securely moored ashore, he retreated again to the deck of the U-boat, drawing after him the heavy plank that had been laid down as a gangplank.  The battle on the outskirts of the village was still raging with fury.  Shells were bursting all around the submarine.  Running to starboard, Jack took up his position directly behind the conning tower with the steel turret between him and the village.  Crouching with a revolver in either hand, he kept sharp watch at the closed hatches for any attempted outbreak from within.