They continued to gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment.
Above on the quarter-deck rose the sharp voice of Captain Raphael Dexter.
"Isn't no different, as I can see, from bein' chased by a mad whale. And that's happened to me twice. A whale can only hit head on, and yonder dogfish can only shoot straight ahead. Am I right?"
"Quite true, Captain Dexter," quietly agreed the ship's commander, recognizing the old shipmaster's wisdom and experience.
"Then run your ship zigzag," pronounced the Yankee skipper. "Run for the fog yonder, but keep a-changin' your course—that's the caper!" he added as the captain telegraphed the change to the wheel-house.
The ship bore off suddenly. Instantly a shrieking shell rose from the submarine, which was now awash, and, describing a parabola, dropped just beyond the steamship's stern.
It was an unmistakable command to "Stop!"
A murmur rose from the watching passengers along the rail. Groups of the crew had gathered on the lower deck to view the submarine. There were a number of the stokers off duty. Suddenly, from their midst, rang out a startling, terrifying appeal:
"She'll sink us! Stop the ship!"
The eager, blazing face of Captain Raphael Dexter appeared at the break of the quarter-deck. Forgetting he was not on his own ship, he bellowed: