. . .That is what I was looking for," remarked von Preugfeld to the unter-leutnant. "It's a wreck-buoy placed there as a monument to our achievement last March. You remember?"

"The Camperdown Castle, Herr Kapitan?"

"No, you fool," snapped the kapitan. "We sank the Camperdown Castle eighty kilometres away to the south-eastward."

"The Columbine, then?"

"That's better," exclaimed von Preugfeld. "That red cross on her port bow made an excellent mark, illuminated by electric light as it was for our convenience. Now, shut off the motors. Call away the guns' crews. Elevate to eight thousand metres, and fire anywhere between west by north and west by south, and I'll warrant we'll make a mess of things ashore in Aberspey."

The two six-inch guns mounted on U 247 were quickly manned. The glistening, well-oiled breech-blocks were flung open, and the metal cylinders with their deadly steel shells were thrust home. For a brief instant the gun-l. . . Read More