"Is it a hit, do you think?" gasped Jack.
"I think—" began the naval officer.
Boom! It came suddenly, sullenly. A column of spray shot up between the two mast-stumps of the derelict. The rising water reached a height of eighty or ninety feet, then came down again like a heavy rain.
But the wreck itself?
One of the mast-stumps tottered, then the other. In an instant more nothing of the derelict was to be seen, saving some floating wreckage made up of less water-logged wood.
"A fair hit, I'll wager my commission!" cried Danvers, eagerly.
"Yes," nodded Jacob Farnum. "That's the last of the derelict. She's removed from the paths of navigation."
There could be no doubt of the completeness of the work done by the torpedo from the "Hastings." A broad grin now appeared on the shipbuilder's lately white face.
"Mr. Farnum, will you tell Hal, whenever he thinks best, to slow down to mere headway?"
"Aye, aye, Captain," sang the shipbuilder, jovially, and disappeared from view.