Not for long, however, for a line on the water revealed the wake made by the conning tower as she headed straight for the “Prince.”
Again Dan’s orders rapped out. The seeming tramp steamer, developing a speed that could not have been looked for, maneuvered so as to run, bow-on, at the submersible.
The craft to the southward was sinking, but the one to the northward was coming straight. A light streak on the water shot out in advance of her while the “Prince” was making her turn. Seeing that he was bound to miss, the Hun commander let loose with his other tube. The “Prince” completed her maneuver, and now showed only her bow to the enemy, her hull standing away in a straight line between the courses of the two torpedoes, which dashed on by her and were lost in the distance.
As the craft were rapidly nearing each other, Dan, by the aid of his marine glass, located exactly the beginning, or nearer end, of the conning tower’s wake.
“She may submerge and come up astern of you!” muttered Dave Darrin.
“We’ll see!” ground out Dalzell, between his teeth, still holding the glass to his eyes.
There was no question of getting the range, for the two craft were lessening the distance, altering it, every second that passed.
Still Dan headed on, knowing that the enemy could submerge and change her course at greater depth.
“I’ve got only one chance in a million to get that rascal!” Dalzell growled to his chum.
“And apparently the enemy has all the other chances in the million—but it’s a great game!” cried Dave Darrin.