into the air, then with a loud hissing of escaping air fell back weakly into the water. Where it had been were three bobbing heads. There had been a sub under there!
"Thanks," flashed the destroyer, "well done. Rejoin convoy."
They went past Gib without stopping and made the hazardous trip to Alexandria without incident other than a few sporadic and ineffectual raids by enemy aircraft. At Alexandria Captain Tolliver found this message waiting for him; it was from ONI.
"You are a better guesser than some of our experts. The three men you tipped us off to are in jail. They planned to seize the ship and divert it to a Norwegian port. Congratulations."
The skipper gave a brief snort and then crammed the message into a pocket with his one good hand. Then he learned that on the voyage home he was to carry the convoy's commodore. The "commodore," a retired Navy captain, came aboard and looked around.
He did not say much until they were out of the Mediterranean and well to the west of Portugal. By then they had been joined by many other ships and were steaming in a formation much like the one before, with the difference that this time, being flagship, they were more nearly in the middle of the flotilla.
"You seem to have a remarkable ability to spot submarines, Captain," he remarked. "What is your secret?"
"Me?" said the skipper indignantly. "Hell, I can't see a submarine in the dark or under water any farther than the next man. All the credit is due to Sadie. She smells 'em. She hates 'em, too."
"Yes, I know. She rammed several in the last war, didn't she? And didn't they make her into a Q-ship?"
"She did. She was. If you'll look down there on the pedestal of the binnacle stand you'll see some file marks. There are fourteen of 'em now. Each one stands for a U-boat. Or raider. I tell you, she don't like Germans. She was a German herself, you know, but they didn't treat her right. She has a grievance."
"Now, Captain," laughed the commodore, "don't you think you are carrying your little joke too far? After all..."
"Do you know the story of this ship?" asked Tolliver fiercely, "well, listen."
It was close to midnight then and a bright moon was shining. The silhouettes of the ships about were distinct as black masses against the glittering white-kissed sea. The two officers went on talking, but their eyes were steadfastly kept ahead. This was a night when anything might happen.
"In 1914 this ship was spanking new. She was the Koenigen von Sachsen or something of the sort, freshly turned out of the Vulcan Works at Stettin. The outbreak of the war caught her at Hoboken and they tied her up for the duration. But when we joined the war in '17 and took her over, her innards were something pitiful to see. Her crew had dry-fired her boilers
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