"What I would like to know," said Frank Chadwick, "is just how long England intends to put up with the activities of the German submarines in the waters surrounding the British Isles." "How long?" echoed Jack Templeton. "Surely you know that England is already conducting a vigorous campaign against them." "I don't seem to have heard anything of such a campaign," returned Frank dryly; "but another big liner was torpedoed and sunk off the coast of Ireland yesterday. What are we going to do about it? That's what I want to know."

"Sail at 4 a.m.," said Captain Jack Templeton of the U.S.S. Plymouth, laying down the long manila envelope marked "Secret." "Acknowledge by signal," he directed the ship's messenger, and then looked inquiringly about the wardroom table. "Aye, aye, sir," said the first officer, Lieutenant Frank Chadwick. "Ready at four, sir," said the engineer officer, Thomas; and left his dinner for a short trip to the engine room to push some belated repairs.

A great, long, gray shape moved swiftly through the waters of the Thames. Smoke, pouring from three different points in the middle of this great shape, ascended, straight in the air some distance, then, caught by the wind, drifted westward. It was growing dark. Several hours before, this ocean greyhound-one of Great Britain's monster sea-fighters-had up-anchored and left her dock-where she had been undergoing slight repairs-heading eastward down the river.