engineers cut down the speed. That was a bit of valor worthy of the best traditions of the British navy.
Suddenly there arose a shout.
"A hit! A hit!"
The last shot made by the British gunners had struck fairly and squarely. It burst directly against the low deck of the submersible craft.
"She's stopped short!" cried one man gleefully.
"Yes, and she's going down by the head in the bargain!" yelled another.
The excitement increased as this was seen to be the truth. Instead of submerging in the ordinary way, the submarine was going down with her stern high in the air, so that the powerful propellers could be seen spinning aimlessly. Yes, she was sinking, and would never again lie in wait for a passenger steamer.
Again there came a cry, partly of frantic delight and not unmingled with awe:
"There! She'd disappeared! She's gone down! Hurrah for our brave gunners! They scored a bull's-eye that time!"
Everybody was shaking hands and carrying on in the most extravagant fashion.
There were hundreds of lives in the captain's keeping, as well as vast quantities of valuable
