A few seconds of tense silence followed, then came the muffled sound of a terrific detonation, as the warhead exploded fifteen feet below the surface and fairly amidships of the doomed cruiser. No need to let loose a second missile.
"Got her!" exclaimed the skipper laconically, as the submarine dived to fifty feet to avoid detection and its natural sequence—a hail of quick-firer projectiles from the already sinking vessel.
A quarter of an hour later the "E Something" again showed her periscope. The lieutenant-commander's surmise was correct. The German cruiser had plunged to the bottom, while half a dozen boats, crammed to their utmost capacity, were laboriously rowing towards the invisible island of Borkum.
"Thank you, Mr. Aubyn!" exclaimed the lieutenant-commander, extending his hand towards the sub.
"What for, sir, might I ask?"
"For letting your nose bleed at a most opportune moment," was the cool rejoinder.
CHAPTER XX.
A DUEL WITH A ZEPPELIN.
An hour after sunset "E Something" rose to the surface. Her hatches were opened and the crew allowed on deck, five men at a time, to enjoy the cold, fresh air. Owing to the possibility of the sudden approach of a swift hostile cruiser or destroyer it was not advisable to let more men out at once, in order that there would be no delay in battening down and diving.