ir posts at the
rail where they were scanning the sea on either hand just as the depth
bomb made its second plunge across the deck.

It crashed into the port rail and then, as the chaser jerked her tail in
the heavy cross seas like a saucy catbird, the dangerous cylinder dashed
to starboard again.

"Stop it!" cried Mr. Filson for the second time; and just then _the
safety pin dropped out_!

The first lookout had almost clutched the plunging cylinder as it passed
him on its backward roll.

"Ware the bomb!" shouted his mate, and both of them leaped away from the
vicinity of the peril.

Nor were they to be blamed. With the pin out it was to be expected that
the big bomb would immediately explode. It banged against the rail, then
charged across the deck again. Every time it collided with an obstacle
the spectators expected it to blow up and burst the after part of the
ship asunder.

To the credit of Ensign Filson be it said that he did not fall back from
his post on the quarter. Nor did he directly order, now that he thought
of it, any particular man to try to hold the plunging bomb. It was work
for a volunteer--a man who was willing to take his life in his hands.

There is a quality of courage that is higher than that which takes men
into battle along with their fellows. The companionship of others in the
charge breeds courage in many weak souls.

But to start alone on a dangerous mission, the lone man in an almost
hopeless cause, calls for a steadiness of courage that few can rise to.

The four young fellows clinging together behind Mr. Filson were shot
with fear, as they might very well be. At any second the bomb was likely
to explode, and they were so near that they could not possibly escape
the full force of the blast.

Even if the chaser herself escaped complete destruction, they could not
dodge the effect of the explosion; but like the ensign they would not
retreat.

These bombs are timed to explode at about an eighty-foot depth. A very
few seconds would bring about the catastrophe. Every man on the deck of
the S. P. 888 felt that.

Suddenly, along the deck charged a sturdy figure--a human battering ram.
The other men were knocked aside. One of the lookouts was toppled over
by the newcomer, falling flat upon his back and was shot by the next
plunge of the craft into the scuppers amidships.

"Hi! Hi! Seven Knott!" yelled Al Torrance.

"Good old _Colodia_! Go to it!" joined in the excited Frenchy.