There was a sharp bark from the throat of the one-pounder. Smash! A cheer went up from the watching seamen. The shot hit the mark. But the two men with Runkle were cleaning and loading for still another shot at the conning tower.
"Any more, sir?" inquired Runkle, with a grin, after firing and landing a second shot in the submarine's superstructure.
"Not unless ordered," Darrin answered, crisply. "If that fellow dives now he'll go below and stay there for good."
Instead of diving, however, the top of the submarine's conning tower was seen to rise higher and higher above the water.
"She's rising, but she's lost her steerage way, sir," announced the corporal of marines.
"The helmsman was undoubtedly killed by the first or second shot," suggested Dave. "It looks as if the survivors mean to surrender, but we'll watch out for tricks."
He gave the order for slow speed ahead, soon reducing it to mere headway.
"Marines prepare to board," ordered the ensign, as the launch came up close to the now unmanageable submarine, whose deck showed a bit more than awash.
It called for fine work on the part of the quartermaster to set his launch alongside without crushing it.
Gauging closely with his eye, Ensign Darrin called out: