nning tower, followed by Danvers. Jack himself
closed the manhole, while Eph still trained the searchlight through the
darkness of the night. Stormy weather was threatening.

"Now, hustle below, Eph, and get that loaded torpedo into the tube,"
commanded Skipper Jack Benson.

"My men will help you," added Lieutenant Danvers.

Jack quickly had his figures made. He knew where the hull lay, in what
direction, and how far below the surface the deck of the sunken
derelict lay. He planned to land the torpedo twelve feet below the
derelict's deck, which, he believed, would strike a full and fair blow.

"Torpedo's loaded, sir," called Eph, while the "Hastings," under slow
speed astern, was gliding back to get into position for the attack.

"Station Biffens by the firing lever, then," called down Captain Benson.
"Tell him to fire on the instant that he gets the order. Now, Mr.
Somers, stand by the submerging apparatus. Drop just forty-two feet
below the surface, then report instantly to me."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Lieutenant Danvers stood by the submarine boy, intently watching,
listening, and digesting Benson's plan. Yet the naval officer ventured
no interference.

In another moment the hull of the "Hastings" began to disappear under
the waves.

"Forty-two feet--sir--and--stopped!" shouted up Eph Somers.

"Ready to fire!" Jack hailed.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Fire!"

"Fire it is, sir."

"Have you fired, Mr. Somers?" rolled down Jack's next question.

"Yes, sir."

"Then turn on the compressed air, and bring us to the surface."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

The instant that the conning tower stood up, dripping, through the waves,
Jack turned on searchlight again. Slow speed ahead he next signaled.

As the piercing rays of light gleamed out over the waters before them
the surface of the sea ahead was seen to be covered with floating
litter.

"Jove, look at the wreckage!" uttered Lieutenant Danvers, jubilantly.
"Everything about that old derelict that could float has come up to
the surface."

"Do you think the derelict is utterly smashed, sir?" inquired Jack
Benson, respectfully, for this trained naval officer knew more about
such things than he did.

"That derelict is blown to kindling wood," exclaimed Danvers, himself
manipulating the searchlight as they sailed through a sea littered with
small wreckage. "That derelict will never menace any skipper afloat,
from now on. Benson, lad, you did a wonderfully keen jo