On came the torpedo. The soldiers on the troopship deck watched its course with fascinated eyes.
The “Logan,” having swerved enough only to clear the deadly missile, now darted in again, her nose striking what was left of the torpedo trail. On she dashed, gun and bomb crews grimly waiting, every man on duty alert on the destroyer’s decks.
Cutting the wind the “Logan” raced on her way, her bow throwing up a huge volume of water. Dave, on the bridge, saw his staunch little fighting craft near the starting end of the tell-tale torpedo trail. And there on the water, moving eastward and at right angles with the direction of the path, was an ill-defined, bulky something which, from the destroyer’s bridge, looked like a submerged shadow.
Quickly rasping out a change in the course, Dave saw the “Logan” overtake that shadow in a matter of seconds. The shadow was much less distinct now, for the sea pest was submerging to greater depth.
It was Darrin himself who seized the handle of the bridge telegraph.
Answering the signal sent by Dave to the engine room, the “Logan” made a magnificent leap forward just as the destroyer’s bow reached the point over the tail of the shadow.
“Let go the depth bomb!” he roared. The signal was passed to the bomb crew to “let go!”
Over went the bomb. The “Logan” still leaped forward.
Then, astern of the rushing craft, came a muffled roar. A great mass of water shot up into the air, like a compressed geyser. Before the column of water had had time to subside big bubbles of air came up in myriads and burst on the surface.
The instant after the explosion of the depth bomb, the “Logan” turned on the shortest axis possible, her propellers slowing down somewhat.