But the cheering died away and Dave’s voice carried far as he answered:
“I know they’re only Huns, and a bad lot, but they fought us well. We’ll cheer for the victory later, but not for the fate of men who are dying there.”
Darrin then gave the order to steam in close and to stand by to rescue any swimmers who might appear in the water.
Twice the “Logan” circled the overturned enemy. Save for two of the men who had been shot away from the submarine’s gun platform, and who were dead, none of the enemy were to be found.
Now it was that the young commanding officer had an opportunity to turn about and see how it was faring with the other American vessels.
All firing had ceased. The fleet was proceeding on its way. Darrin was some distance astern of the rearmost ships of the troopship fleet.
“Men, it looks as if our fight were over for the present,” Dave called down in hearty cheery tones. “From the bridge we cannot see the head of the fleet, nor can we hear the sound of firing.”
Accordingly all speed was jammed on. The “Logan,” saluting the rearmost scout of the destroyer flotilla, steamed on to return to her own position in the line. As he passed a sister ship Darrin signalled:
“How many transports lost?”
“Only the ‘Castle City,’ we understand,” came the response.