"Get ready to watch, out there!" warned the naval officer.
"Now, Eph," glowed Jack, "we're going to see the thing we've so often dreamed about! We'll see that dummy torpedo leap forth, like a real one. For a little way, at least, we ought to see the track of the torpedo."
"Feel like betting the dummy will bit the scow?" questioned young Somers, half doubtfully.
"Of course it will," retorted Jack Benson, scornfully, "with naval experts on the job!"
Lieutenant Danvers gave the firing signal.
In the silence that followed, the two submarine boys hanging over the nose of the boat heard just a muffled click below. Then—
"There it goes!" shouted Jack Benson, with all the glee in the world.
Down beneath them, under the nose of the "Hastings" an object shot into brief view. First the war-head, then the middle, then the tail and propeller of a fourteen-foot Whitehead torpedo swept away from them, two or three feet below the surface of the waves. A line of bubbles came to the surface, showing that the torpedo was headed, straight and clean, for the stone-laden scow over on the ocean. Then the torpedo, still under water, passed out of their range of view.
"Hurrah!" yelled Jack Benson, leaping to his feet with all the glee and fervor of the enthusiast. "Hurrah!"
"Hurrah!" bellowed Eph Somers, for the glory of the game had gotten into his blood, too. Both submarine boys capered up and down on the platform deck.