McClure decided to lie-to here in safety.

When the raiders had departed he would ascend and make a more detailed
external inspection of the hull.

It was half-past two. Jean Cartier superintended the distribution of
hot coffee and light "chow" and the crew made themselves comfortable
in their submarine home.

Half an hour later, when it had been determined by the telephones that
the German ships had moved on westward, the _Dewey_ began again to
ascend the depths.

Early dawn was streaking the sky with tints of orange gray when at last
the submarine poked its periscopes above the waves. Not a ship was in
sight; there was not a trace of the battle cruiser that the _Dewey_ had
sent to her doom during the earlier hours of the night.

"Didn't have a chance, did they?" Ted said to his churn in contemplation
of the fate of the German warship.

Jack felt different about it.

"Sure they had a chance," he answered.

"They would have gotten us if we hadn't landed them first."

"Do the other fellow as you know he would do you," Jack philosophized.

As the _Dewey_ emerged again on the surface with her deck and