the gunners were, the submarine was quicker, and as the guns were
brought to bear the periscope sank gently out of sight. Captain Rice
almost pulled the engine-room signal telegraph-lever out by its roots in
bringing the ship to full speed toward the spot where the periscope had
last been seen, his idea of course, being to ram the lurking craft.

For two minutes nothing was seen and then a shout from one of the
lookouts heralded the reappearance of the submersible, this time a
thousand yards to port, the _Mongolia_ offering to the Germans a fair
broadside expanse of hull. Lieutenant Ware's voice arose and the next
instant the 6-inch piece spoke. That periscope went into splinters; a
direct hit. Watchers on the freighter saw the shell strike its mark
fairly. A great geyser arose from the sea, and when it died there were
evidences of commotion beneath the surface. Then gradually foam and oil
spread upon the gentle waves.

There was no doubt about the hit. Lieutenant Ware knew before the shell
struck that the aim had been accurate. There was no guess-work about it.
It was a case of pure mathematics. The whole affair was over in two
minutes. The vessel did not stop to reconnoitre, but steamed away at
full speed, sending ahead wireless reports of the fight against the
undersea craft. The British naval officers who came bounding across the
waters on their destroyers were extremely complimentary in their praise,
and when the _Mongolia_ returned to New York there was a dinner in honor
of Lieutenant Ware, an expression of the lingering emotions which had
fired the nation when word of the incident was cabled to this country.
Since that fight the Germans, enraged, seem to have marked the
_Mongolia_; for in succeeding months she was set upon repeatedly by the
submarine flotilla, seeking revenge for her temerity in sending one of
their number to the bottom. But she is still afloat and ready for