THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE TERROR OF THE SEAS.

“One!”

The speaker was Jack Templeton, an English youth and first officer of the British submarine D-16, Lord Hastings, commander.

Frank Chadwick, an American lad about the same age as Jack, the second officer of the under-sea fighter, laid his hand upon his friend’s arm.

“Let me take a look,” he said.

Jack relinquished to his chum his place at the periscope, and the latter peered into the instrument long and earnestly.

Into the periscope—which protruded slightly above the surface of the water while the submarine was still submerged—came the vision of a sinking warship, and the sight, enlarged by powerful binoculars, was apparent to Frank’s eyes.

“She’s done for, all right,” he said quietly, turning away at length. “Pretty good shooting, I should say.”

“One torpedo only,” replied Jack briefly.

“You may give the signal to rise, Mr. Templeton,” said a third voice, and Lord Hastings, commander of the submarine, stood before them.

Jack turned away in response to this command.

Another moment and the pumps were at work, forcing the water from the tanks. Gradually the submarine began to rise, and at last rode quietly upon the surface of the North Sea.

Followed by Jack and Frank, Lord Hastings led the way up through the little conning tower, opened now that the submarine was above water, and from there to the bridge, only a few feet above the surface of the sea. Here all turned their eyes toward the east, where, less than half a mile away, a German ship of war was slowly sinking by the head.

“A good shot, Mr. Templeton,” said Lord Hastings, turning to Jack.

“Pretty fair, sir,” was the latter’s modest reply, for he had launched the torpedo with his own hand.

Aboard the sinking German vessel all was confusion. Men rushed hither and thither in wild excitement. Officers shouted hoarse commands. Men scrambled wildly about and jumped madly for the life boats as they were launched. So great was the panic that two of the small boats were overturned and the men thrown into the sea.

“They’ll be drowned!” exclaimed Frank. He turned to Lord Hastings. “Cannot we rescue them, sir?”

“It is impossible,” was the quiet response. “We have no room for them. We are carrying a full crew, as you know, and have no room for another man.”

“But it is terrible to let them drown,” protested Frank.

“True,” replied his commander, “and yet think how some of our merchant vessels have been sent to the bottom without warning and their crews to a watery grave, noncombatants though they were. It is retribution; no less.”

Frank was silent, but he stood watching the struggling German sailors with an anxious eye.

Now the officers aboard the sinking vessel had succeeded in gaining some semblance of order from the confusion that had reigned a few moments before, and the enemy was going about the work of launching the boats more coolly and successfully.

At last all the boats and the crew had left the ship—all but one man, who still stood calmly upon the bridge. This was the commander, who, rather than leave his ship, was preparing to go down with her. In vain did his officers from the boats call upon him to jump. To all their calls he turned a deaf ear, and stood calmly at his post, with folded arms.

Now the sinking vessel began to settle more swiftly. Suddenly she seemed to leap clear of the water, there came a thundering roar, and then, seeming to despair of her efforts to keep afloat, she dived, in another moment she disappeared and the waters of the North Sea closed with an angry swirl over the mighty German warship and her gallant commander.

“Well, she’s gone,” said Jack quietly.

“Then we may as well go also,” declared Lord Hastings. “Shape your course due west, Mr. Templeton.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Jack, saluting, and he disappeared below.

Lord Hastings and Frank continued to peer at the flotilla of German small boats, which, at a command from the officer in charge, had shipped their oars and were pulling toward the east with lusty strokes.

“I hope they make land safely, or are picked up,” said Frank.

“So do I,” replied his commander. “Come, we shall go below.”

The D-16 again on her way, Frank betook himself to his own quarters, which he and Jack shared together. Here he was surprised to see the latter cutting a notch on the side of the highly polished small table in the center of the cabin.

“What are you doing there?” he asked in surprise. “What are you cutting up that table for?”

“Well,” said Jack, “in reading some of your American literature, I learned that every time one of your wild westerners killed a man he cut a notch on his gun. I’m following along the same lines, only I intend to cut a notch on this table every time we sink one of the enemy.”

“Quite an idea, that,” said Frank. “But when you say you read that stuff in American literature, you are wrong. I won’t deny that you have read it, but I’d call it American fiction, not literature.”

“Never mind,” said Jack, “it’ll answer my purpose, whatever you call it.”

“Guess I’ll turn in for a couple of hours,” said Frank. “I’m feeling rather tired.”

“Help yourself,” replied his friend. “I want a few words with Lord Hastings.”

He left the cabin, while Frank, kicking off his shoes and removing his coat, threw himself down on his bed, and in a few moments was fast asleep. As he is taking much needed repose, we will take the time to introduce these two lads more fully.

Jack Templeton, the son of an Englishman, had spent the better part of his life in a little village on the north coast of Africa. His father, who owned a small store, had been his only instructor, but in spite of this the lad had been given a first-class education. He was well read in literature and history, could pass muster on almost any other subject and was well posted on current events.

Jack’s father had been taken suddenly ill and after a protracted sickness died. Jack took charge of the store. One day a ship put into the harbor and several sailors landed, went to the store and procured provisions. In Jack’s absence, they departed without making payment.

Jack returned a little while later, and when he learned what had occurred, he put off in a small boat after the ship, which he reached before she could get under way.

Now Jack, though young in years, was a stalwart lad. He stood above six feet, and was built proportionately. The sailors laughed at him when he demanded payment and a struggle followed. By exerting his powerful strength and some resourcefulness, Jack succeeded in overcoming the crew.

It was then that he learned there were two prisoners aboard the ship. These he released. They proved to be Frank Chadwick and a British secret diplomatic agent.

Frank, who had been in Germany when the great European war broke out, had become separated from his father after getting over the border into Italy. In Naples one night he had gone to the aid of a sailor on the water front and saved him from injury at the hands of three others.

The sailor whom Frank had rescued showed a queer sense of gratitude by having him shanghaied aboard a small schooner. Here, under the stern rule of an American skipper, he had become one of the crew. The crew mutinied, killed the captain, and, binding Frank securely, threw him below with the other prisoner, the diplomatic agent.

Jack’s unexpected appearance upon the scene was indeed a welcome sight to both. Upon learning the nature of the work upon which the secret agent was bound, the two lads had volunteered to help him out. This offer was accepted, and thus both found themselves principal figures in a diplomatic coup that broke up the Triple Alliance and took the support of Italy away from Germany and Austria.

It was while with the secret agent that they had met Lord Hastings, and it was through the good offices of the latter that they finally found themselves attached to the British fleet as midshipmen. Lord Hastings had taken an instant liking to the lads and had them attached to his ship. Later they had been commissioned lieutenants.

Jack and Frank had seen considerable fighting. It was through their strategy that the British had won their first sea victory, off the coast of Heligoland, when four of Germany’s most powerful sea fighters had been sent to the bottom. They had saved the British fleet from possible annihilation by being fortunate to discover a spy.

The two lads, since the war began, had seen service in many waters. They had been on patrol duty off the west coast of Africa; they had served under the French flag when, under the tricolor, they had delivered a severe blow to the Austrian fleet in the Adriatic; they had trailed the German cruiser Emden, nicknamed the “terror of the sea,” through the Indian ocean, and had been present when she was finally sunk by the Australian cruiser Sydney; they had taken part in sinking the German fleet in the South Atlantic, off the Falkland islands; they had been aboard a British submarine that sank three Turkish cruisers in the Persian Gulf; they had seen the capture of the German fortress of Tsing-Tau, in China, by allied British and Japanese troops, and finally they had been instrumental, while in London, of exposing a plot that would have been a severe blow to Great Britain, and of capturing a second German spy and a British traitor, who stood high in the regard of Winston Spencer Churchill, first lord of the Admiralty.

Three times the ships to which they were attached had been sunk, and they had had many narrow escapes. Once Lord Hastings had gone down with their vessel, and the lads had believed him drowned, but he escaped and they encountered him weeks later.

When their last craft had been sunk, upon the boys’ suggestion, Lord Hastings had requested command of a submarine, and when they had once again set forth, it was in the D-16.

And as the D-16 was something absolutely new in the way of submarines, a few words concerning it are necessary here.