ush of two battleships and three
cruisers through the narrows, while another was lurking under Hayling
Island ready to take the air and rain destruction on the forts of
Portsmouth before the fight became general.

What thoroughly surprised him, however, was the absolute silence and
inaction of the British. True, two shots had been fired, but whether
from fort or warship, and with what intent, he hadn't the remotest
notion. The hour arranged upon for the general assault was fast
approaching. The British must be aware that an attack would be made, and
yet there was not so much as a second-class torpedo boat to be seen
outside Spithead. This puzzled him, so he decided to go and investigate
for himself. He took up a speaking-tube and said to his Lieutenant,
M'Carthy--one of too many renegade Irishmen who in the terrible times
that were to come joined their country's enemies as Lynch and his
traitors had done in the Boer War:

"I don't quite make it out, M'Carthy. We'll go down and get under--it's
about time the fun began--and I haven't heard a shot fired or seen an
English ship except that submarine we smashed. My orders are for twelve
o'clock, and I'm going to obey them."

There was one more device on board the _Flying Fish_ which should be
described in order that her wonderful manoeuvering under water may be
understood. Just in front of the steering-wheel in the conning-tower was
a square glass box measuring a foot in the side, and in the centre of
this, attached to top and bottom by slender films of asbestos, was a
needle ten inches long, so hung that it could turn and dip in any
direction. The forward half of this needle was made of highly magnetised
steel, and the other of aluminium which exactly counter-balanced it. The
glass case was completely insulated and therefore the extremely
sensitive needle was unaffected by any of the steel parts used in the
construction of the vessel. But let any other vessel, save of course a
wooden ship, come within a thousand yards, the needle began to tremble
and sway, and the nearer the _Flying Fish_ approached it, the steadier
it became and the more directly it pointed towards the object. If the
vessel was on the surface, it of course pointed upward: if it was a
submarine, it pointed either level or downwards with unerring precision.
This needle was, in fact, the eyes of the _Flying Fish_ when she was
under water.

Castellan swung her head round to the north-west and dropped gentl