The hits had been made by guess, except for the guidance of the wake, while the submarine ran barely submerged. Even Dalzell’s report of hits had been based on appearances. But now the “Prince,” plowing on her way, steamed into a patch of oil-strewn water and out of it again.
“I’ll be satisfied if there is no more fighting in this day’s work,” Dan confessed, mopping the icy perspiration from his forehead.
“Danny-boy, you’ve done a big enough day’s work to satisfy the greediest of fighters!” cried Dave, gripping his chum’s hand.
“Now we’ll look after the prisoners, and pick up the survivors from the wrecked steamship,” proposed Dan.
Then, as he glanced out forward, where a small, sullen German mob stood scowling under guard of armed sailors, he added:
“In view of what we’ve seen to-day I’m sorry we have so many prisoners.”
“Dan, that’s not humane,” rebuked Dave.
“I don’t feel humane,” Dan admitted, simply. “What I’ve seen to-day has made my blood hot. I’d be willing to let go, with both batteries, at the whole German people.”
“Thank goodness you can’t do it,” laughed Darrin. “You’ll cool down soon, Danny.”
Putting back, Dan ran the “Prince” toward the boats and rafts from the sunken steamship. While overhauling them he went down from the bridge and approached the German prisoners.