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Updated: June 3, 2025
Now the two lads, at a sign from the commander, joined him. Glancing in the direction he pointed, they made out the fighting tops of the first two cruisers, victims of the submarine's daring raid, just reaching out of the water. The third cruiser was afloat, but from her heavy list to starboard, it was plain that she was badly damaged and sinking fast.
My father used to work in this yard, and I worked here last summer." "He's all right," nodded Mr. Farnum, so Eph got inside the shed. The ladder rested against the hull; this was to be the last time that it would be used. David Pollard ascended, first, to the submarine's platform deck Farnum followed Then Grant Andrews went up. Last of all came Jack Benson and Hal Hastings.
"What's the matter?" he gasped. "Shot hit us, I guess," was Frank's calm reply. The lad was right. Two small Turkish gunboats, whose presence in the harbor was not known to Captain Nicholson, had approached the scene of battle, and making out the submarine's periscope, had opened on her with the big guns. One shot had gone true, and it was this that had sent the Y-3 careening to the bottom.
So earnest was his plea that Jack did not have the heart to refuse him. A dim light showed on the bow of the submarine as the little flotilla approached; and then so suddenly that the night appeared to be lighted up by magic, a flare of white made the boats approaching the submarine as plain as day. The submarine's searchlight had been turned on them. "Down men," cried Jack.
They were but a few weeks older than when they appeared before the readers of the first volume in this series, "The Submarine Boys On Duty." Readers of that volume are familiar with the story of how Jack Benson and Hal Hastings appeared in Dunhaven; how they made the acquaintance, first of David Pollard, the submarine's inventor, and then of Jacob Farnum, the boat's builder and financial backer.
The next instant our hull swept over it and of course snapped it clean off, although we felt no shock whatever, for our draught of water was too light for our keel to reach the submarine's conning tower.
The waters were smooth, with a long swell, and the lookout had seen a scant eighteen inches of periscope, which had vanished immediately it fell under his vision. Undoubtedly the observer at the other end of the submarine's periscope had seen the Fanning at about the same time the presence of the undersea craft was detected. It had appeared about 400 yards from the destroyer's course.
The Yeoman of Signals on the Submarine's conning tower stiffened like a statue as he read the message. "Says, 'Will Sir William Thor-r-ogood come aboar-r-d, sir? If so, he'll send a boat." His speech placed him at home in these Northern latitudes. "Reply, 'Yes. Please send boat." A quarter of an hour later Sir William was climbing out of a tubby dinghy over the trawler's bulwarks.
Eighty of the crew, estimated at more than 300 men, were saved by Swedish craft. The attack came without warning and furnished another illustration of the submarine's deadly effectiveness under certain conditions. The India, a Peninsular and Oriental liner before the war, was well known to many travelers.
Sam Daniels and his comrades were once more back aboard the Narcissus, attending to the horses; and Cappy Ricks, his heart so filled with pride that it was like to burst, occupied the submarine's turret with the doughty Michael J. For an hour they discussed the marvelous coup until there was no angle of it left undiscussed; whereupon fell a silence, with Michael J.'s eyes fixed on the dark bulk ahead that marked the Narcissus, and Cappy's thoughts on what Matt Peasley and Mr.
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