r it has been impossible to
see more than six hundred yards. That is why we are running at half
speed. We're close to the middle shoal and I was afraid we'd run down one
of our own mine-sweepers."

"The kind of weather every ship's master dreads," Dave remarked.

"Yes, sir, and the weather bites you through to the marrow. The
temperature isn't very low, but I think you'll find yourself more
comfortable if you dress warmly. I found it so cold as to be necessary to
wear the sheepskin under my heaviest rain-coat."

In finishing his dressing Darrin bore this suggestion in mind. In a few
minutes he stepped out on deck. The weather proved to be as unpleasant as
Fernald had asserted, and Dave was glad that he was warmly clad, for the
wind, though not strong, was piercing.

"Sighted any mine-sweeper on the shoal?" Dave asked of Ensign Ormsby, the
watch officer, as soon as he reached the deck.

"Only on the first shoal, which is in the 'Reed's' station, sir," Mr.
Ormsby replied. "Those belonging to our station must be farther north.
And we've sighted none out in deeper water. We couldn't in this thick
weather, anyway."

"The view is so limited that this doesn't look like a promising day for
us," Dave mused aloud, as he gazed around at as much of the water as he
could see.

"It really doesn't, sir."

"Better reduce to one-quarter speed. The less speed the less chance there
will be of the enemy hearing us."

Accordingly the "Grigsby" rolled along slowly, the splash and ripple of
the water along her sides being a soothing accompaniment.

For an hour they proceeded thus, without sighting a ship. They had passed
the middle shoal, and were somewhat north of it when the two officers on
the bridge observed that the sun was struggling feebly through the clouds
and mist. A minute later, as if by magic, it burst out brightly, and the
mist began to fade away.

"By Jove, sir, look at that!" almost whispered Ensign Ormsby.

Some seven hundred yards away from them, motionless on the water, her
deck fully exposed, lay a submarine.

Neither deck gun was above decks. At least a dozen of the crew stood near
the conning tower, and, of all things in the world, fishing.

"Quick work, there!" Dave called through the bridge telephone to the
gunners forward. "Let number one gun send a shell over the craft. Don't
hit her at the first shot. We'll capture that fellow, if possible!"

So quickly did the shot come that it was the first intim