in one way and another during the battle for sixteen Germans and
had taken nine prisoners, including the commander. His lieutenant
had been killed.

"Not a bad day's work," said Bradley, the mate, when he had
completed his roll. "Only losing the skipper," he added, "was
the worst. He was a fine man, a fine man."

Olson--who in spite of his name was Irish, and in spite of his
not being Scotch had been the tug's engineer--was standing with
Bradley and me. "Yis," he agreed, "it's a day's wor-rk we're after
doin', but what are we goin' to be doin' wid it now we got it?"

"We'll run her into the nearest English port," said Bradley,
"and then we'll all go ashore and get our V. C.'s," he
concluded, laughing.

"How you goin' to run her?" queried Olson. "You can't trust
these Dutchmen."

Bradley scratched his head. "I guess you're right," he admitted.
"And I don't know the first thing about a sub."

"I do," I assured him. "I know more about this particular sub
than the officer who commanded her."

Both men looked at me in astonishment, and then I had to explain
all over again as I had explained to the girl. Bradley and Olson
were delighted. Immediately I was put in command, and the first
thing I did was to go below with Olson and inspect the craft