Their suspicions now fully confirmed the Germans sought vainly to get their vessel under way; but the movement came too late, as the torpedo from the Monitor cleft the waters like an arrow and buried its nose against the hull of the gigantic mother ship just abaft the conning tower.  With a mighty roar and a flash that illumined the night the speeding projectile crashed through the hull of the Bergerhof and rent the vessel like so much paper.

“Seems like a pity to put them out of business, don’t it?” said McClure with a tone of wistful regret as he surveyed the picture.  Jack was viewing the whole spectacle through the periscope, his chief at the observation port in the conning tower.

“We sure did get them,” commented Jack.  There wasn’t the least possibility of the mother ship offering resistance, since it was now a matter of a few minutes at the longest until she would be taking her last dive.  So the conning tower of the Monitor was opened and the officers climbed on deck to watch the death struggle of the Bergerhof.  The Monitor’s torpedo had done its work well, for it was quite evident, as the American craft drew near the scene of the explosion, that the German vessel had been blown out of the water.

“Probably a half dozen men were out on deck when we hit them,” said McClure.  “Suppose we get right up close and see whether we can fish a few of them out of the water.”

He rang the Monitor ahead directly for the spot where the German ship had disappeared under the waves, and as it drew closer slowed down the engines.

“There’s one poor chap directly off the port bow,” observed Jack as he pointed to a bobbing figure in the water.  The Monitor was stopped and in a few minutes the unlucky German was hauled on deck.  He proved to be a petty officer, suffering several slight wounds, and he grasped eagerly the rope extended to him by several of the American sailors.  In like fashion six other Teutons were hauled out of the water, among them the captain of the doomed ship.

“We thought you were friends and not enemies,” said the German executive as he looked first from McClure to Jack and then ran his eye along the deck of the Monitor, with surprise written in every feature.

“Sorry, but we had to sink you,” was Commander McClure’s rejoinder.

The prisoners were hurried below deck and made comfortable.  They were a sorry looking lot after their narrow escape from death.  McClure debated with Jack for a time just what to do with the prisoners, but decided finally to keep them until he could deliver them to a larger unit of the U.S. fleet.  In the meantime they were herded into the spacious men’s quarters just forward of the control chamber and a strong guard posted over them in charge of Bill Witt.

“If they start any funny business in here, they’ll find themselves worse off than if they had gone down with ‘mother’ to the bottom of the deep blue sea,” volunteered Bill as he assumed charge of his wards.