Two torpedoes were discharged at the oncoming “Prince.” One of these missed the ship narrowly. The other struck, glancingly, on the port side, forward, and disappeared without exploding.
By now the submarine was doing some maneuvering of its own. Its forward and after guns were discharged whenever possible, but the shells failed to land, until the “Prince,” still managing to keep on, was within three hundred yards, and bent on ramming the enemy craft.
Over the bridge screamed a shell, passing so close that Dan and Dave ducked involuntarily.
Crash! There was a ripping of metal, a black smudge of smoke soon settling over everything, and the “Prince’s” smokestack was gone, clipped off within seven feet of the point where it emerged through the deck.
Then with a quick turn of the steering wheel the “Prince” was sent crashing into the long, low, gray hull. From close to the water came the yells of the Hun crew as they scrambled up through the conning tower hatchway.
On passed the “Prince,” making a wide sweep and coming back again. The submersible had already sunk from sight, leaving but few of her men struggling on the surface of the water.
By the time that the “Prince” had lowered a boat some of the Germans had sunk. Only three men were rescued and hauled in.
Lined up on the spar deck of the steamship these proved to be the second-in-command and two seamen.
“It’s an outrage to deceive us in the manner that you did,” angrily declared the German officer, in English.
“Take that matter up with the Assassins’ Union,” Dan jeered. “On this cruise I’ve heard other German officers call it an outrage. It appears to me that you Germans reserve the right to commit all the outrages.”