The submarine shuddered beneath the shock. A part of her deck flew into the air, and a sea, driving against her side, buckled her broken back. She pitched laboriously in the heavy seaway as the inrushing water sucked her slowly beneath the surface, while the endless seas surged relentlessly on, playfully tossing two tiny, struggling forms.
Slowly the Ardmore turned and headed toward the spot. On the wing of the bridge a sailor stood, swinging a life-buoy. As the ship passed the struggling men he tossed it into the water. Another life-buoy, thrown by the captain, dropped beside it, and a few minutes later the almost lifeless bodies of two German sailors were dragged over the rail.
"Take them to the galley," ordered the captain, "where it's warm. Al can bring them around."
The two men were presently deposited on the galley floor by the sailors who had hauled them over the side. For a moment the rescuers stood gazing at the dripping forms, until Al, assuming command in his realm of pots and pans, ordered them out so as to allow him to attend to the wants of the unconscious Germans.
The sailors departed, and Al turned to the two bedraggled forms that lay huddled near
