There, he saw, his example was being followed by other members of the crew. As their names were called off by their commander a number of the crew leaped overboard.
One stood up on the rim of the conning tower and dived away from the glare of the enemy searchlights into the black shadows of the submarine. Suddenly the aft hatch was thrown open directly above the engine room and in a moment several begrimed members of the engine crew scrambled up the ladder in quick succession and threw themselves into the sea. The enemy had ceased firing.
"What does it all mean?" pondered Ted as he floated, watching the graphic picture.
Unable to solve the problem for himself, he turned his attention to the nearest man in the water. He swam now only a few strokes away. With little effort Ted drew up to him. It was Bill Witt.
"Reckon they rammed a shot into her," yelled Bill as they beheld their ship sinking gradually.
"Looks that way, doesn't it?" answered Ted
The stricken submarine was gradually going down. McClure was there in the conning tower, of course; that old tradition of the sea, about every skipper going down with his ship, held true in the case of a submarine as well. Jack was there, too, in all likelihood; he had been standing by his commander as Ted and Bill hurried up to hurl themselves from the deck. Ted gulped as he thought of his chum. Was it all over with Jack? Would the Germans rescue the American lads bobbing about in the water?
In another moment the Dewey was completely under, leaving many of her crew floating in the open sea, at the mercy of their enemies.
"Tough luck!" stammered Ted as he linked arms with Bill over their life-belts.
Bill was dauntless even in the face of death.