Jack relinquished to his chum his place at the periscope, and the latter peered into the instrument long and earnestly.
Into the periscope—which protruded slightly above the surface of the water while the submarine was still submerged—came the vision of a sinking warship, and the sight, enlarged by powerful binoculars, was apparent to Frank’s eyes.
“She’s done for, all right,” he said quietly, turning away at length. “Pretty good shooting, I should say.”
“One torpedo only,” replied Jack briefly.
“You may give the signal to rise, Mr. Templeton,” said a third voice, and Lord Hastings, commander of the submarine, stood before them.
Jack turned away in response to this command.
Another moment and the pumps were at work, forcing the water from the tanks. Gradually the submarine began to rise, and at last rode quietly upon the surface of the North Sea.
Followed by Jack and Frank, Lord Hastings led the way up through the little conning tower, opened now that the submarine was above water, and from there to the bridge, only a few feet above the surface of the sea. Here all turned their eyes toward the east, where, less than half a mile away, a German ship of war was slowly sinking by the head.
“A good shot, Mr. Templeton,” said Lord Hastings, turning to Jack.
“Pretty fair, sir,” was the latter’s modest reply, for he had launched the torpedo with his own hand.