fan-like formation, and coming on, nearly abreast.

"The jig's up, chief," he called through a tube to the engineer. "We'll
get forty feet down until the mosquitoes get by. I'd like to take a
chance at them but there are too many. We'd get torpedoed, surely."

Down went the diving rudder, and, with a kick ahead of the engine, the
submersible shot under, heading on a course across the path of the
fleet, and in half an hour came to the surface. There was nothing in
sight, close by, either through the periscope or by direct vision, and
Metcalf decided to make for San Francisco and report.

It was a wise decision, for at daylight he was floundering in a heavy
sea and a howling gale from the northwest that soon forced him to
submerge again for comfort. Before doing so, however, he enjoyed one
good look at the Japanese fleet, far ahead and to port. The line of
formation was broken, staggered, and disordered; and, though the big
ships were making good weather of it, they were steering badly, and on
one of them, half-way to the signal-yard, was the appeal for help that
ships of all nations use and recognize--the ensign, upside-down. Under
the lee of each ship was snuggled a torpedo-boat, plunging, rolling, and
swamped by the breaking seas that even the mighty bulk to windward could
not protect them from. And even as Metcalf looked, one twisted in two,
her after funnels pointing to port, her forward to starboard, and in ten
seconds had disappeared.

Metcalf submerged and went on at lesser speed, but in comfort and
safety. Through the periscope he saw one after the other of the
torpedo-craft give up the fight they were not designed for, and ship
after ship hoist that silent prayer for help. They yawed badly, but in
some manner or other managed to follow the flag-ship, which, alone of
that armada, steered fairly well. She kept on the course for the Golden
Gate.

Even submerged Metcalf outran the fleet before noon, and at night had
dropped it, entering the Golden Gate before daylight, still submerged,
not only on account of the troublesome turmoil on the surface, but to
avoid the equally troublesome scrutiny of the forts, whose searchlights
might have caught him had he presented more to their view than a slim
tube painted white. Avoiding the mines, he picked his way carefully up
to the man-of-war anchorage, and arose to the surface, alongside the
_Delaware_, now the flag-ship, as the light of day crept upward in the
eastern