al degrees to starboard and drew a bead on the
German warship an instant later.

"We'll drop this chap just as he shoots across our bow," declared the
_Dewey's_ commander.

Five hundred yards away came the speeding warship. It was close
enough now for the American officers to make out her outlines in
detail and to satisfy themselves that this was another member of the
raiding party out of the great German naval base in back of Heligoland.

"All right, here goes," shouted the doughty Yankee skipper a moment
later as the German cruiser drew up until her bow edged into the circle
that McClure had marked off on the periscope as the exact spot on
which to aim his fire.

Swish! went the torpedo as it shot from the bow of the _Dewey_ and
straightened out in the water on its foamy trail, cutting through
the sea like a huge swordfish.

It took only a moment---an interval of time during which the torpedo
from the American submarine and the German cruiser seemed irresistibly
drawn toward each other. And then came the crash---the impact of the
torpedo's war-nose against the steel side of the cruiser, the
detonation of the powerful explosive, the rending of the German hull.

And then, loud enough for his crew forward to hear his words, McClure
called out:

"A perfect hit, boys; torpedo landed plumb in the engine room of a big
German cruiser."

A great cheer resounded through the hull of the American undersea craft
as the good news was borne to the torpedo crew forward and to the
engine room aft.

Keeping his eyes to the periscope, McClure beheld the most spectacular
picture that had yet been glimpsed through the eye of the American
submarine. The torpedo had struck squarely abaft the ship's magazine
and wrecked her completely. The night was painted a lurid glow as a
titanic explosion shook the sea and a mass of yellow flame completely
enveloped the doomed warship from stem to stern.

"Look, she is going down by the stern," called out Officer Cleary as
he took one last squint at the _Dewey's_ quarry just before the
stricken warship slipped away into the depths.

The jubilation of the crew knew no bounds. The men were wild with joy
over their success. Jack and Chief Gunner Mowrey were "mitting" each
other like a prize fighter and his manager after a big fight, while
Ted and Bill Witt were clawing each other like a pair of wild men.

Through the main periscope Commander McClure was noting the death
struggle of the