warmth and the feeling of safety for the girl, and the knowledge that a
little rest and food would quickly overcome the effects of her
experiences of the past dismal hours, I was feeling more content than I
had experienced since those three whistle-blasts had shattered the
peace of my world the previous afternoon.

But peace upon the Channel has been but a transitory thing since
August, 1914. It proved itself such that morning, for I had scarce
gotten into my dry clothes and taken the girl's apparel to the
captain's cabin when an order was shouted down into the engine-room for
full speed ahead, and an instant later I heard the dull boom of a gun.
In a moment I was up on deck to see an enemy submarine about two
hundred yards off our port bow. She had signaled us to stop, and our
skipper had ignored the order; but now she had her gun trained on us,
and the second shot grazed the cabin, warning the belligerent
tug-captain that it was time to obey. Once again an order went down to
the engine-room, and the tug reduced speed. The U-boat ceased firing
and ordered the tug to come about and approach. Our momentum had
carried us a little beyond the enemy craft, but we were turning now on
the arc of a circle that would bring us alongside her. As I stood
watching the maneuver and wondering what was to become of us, I felt
something touch my elbow and turned to see the girl standing at my
side. She looked up into my face with a rueful expression. "They seem
bent on our destruction," she said, "and it looks like the same boat
that sunk us yesterday."

"It is," I replied. "I know her well. I helped design her and took
her out on her first run."

The girl drew back from me with a little exclamation of surprise and
disappointment. "I thought you were an American," she said. "I had no
idea you were a--a--"

"Nor am I," I replied. "Americans have been building submarines for
all nations for many years. I wish, though, that we had gone bankrupt,
my father and I, before ever we turned out that Frankenstein of a
thing."

We were approaching the U-boat at half speed now, and I could almost
distinguish the features of the men upon her deck. A sailor stepped to
my side and slipped something hard and cold into my hand. I did not
have to look at it to know that it was a heavy pistol. "Tyke 'er an'
use 'er," was all he said.

Our bow was pointed straight toward the U-boat now as I heard word
passed to the engine for full spee