Communication made with Brest the next morning, May 30th, informed us that the pilot and pilot destroyer would meet us. However, for a very good reason we did not pick up a pilot, for on this date, which has proven memorable in the history of the _Leviathan_, “Fritz” did his best to make it a Memorial Day for the _Leviathan_ and a Decoration Day for himself. On the spot that we expected to take our pilot on board we had our first real engagement with the pirates of the sea. With the hills of Brest plainly visible on our port bow, the smooth surface of the water was broken by the wake of a periscope on our port quarter. The sharp eyes of Lieutenant Beebe, the assistant navigator, saw the danger, and from his post of observation he reported sharply to the captain. Captain Bryan was at his side in an instant and—saw—nothing. The “sub” had “porpoised” under. The young navigator stayed glued to the spot. The “sub” porpoised up on the surface and this time the captain was looking over the shoulder of the former blue-jacket, and in an instant things began to hum. The following entry was made in the ship’s log: 12:29 P. M.—Sighted submarine pursuing us on our port quarter, about 1,500 yards distant. Ordered full speed, 165 revolutions. Opened fire with Number Six and Number Eight guns, three shots. Stopped zig-zagging. Changed course 12:40 P. M. 12:59 P. M.—Submarine appeared again. Opened fire with Number Six and Number Eight guns. Nine shots. 1:19 P. M.—Submarine appeared again. Opened fire with Number Six and Number Eight guns. Seven shots. 1:34 P. M.—Threw in manœuvering combination. Standard speed 112 revolutions. 1:45 P. M.—Entering harbor at various courses and speeds. It was the general opinion among the officers on board that a cordon of U-boats had been lying in wait, located in such a manner that if the first submarine failed in her attempt to torpedo us, the others in turn would be in a position to follow up the attack. During one attack a French fishing boat appeared between us and our object of fire, and had a very narrow escape from being struck by one of our 105 pound explosive shells. The skipper of this boat was taken on board later. He said he clearly saw the “sub” we were firing at. The coolness of our commanding officer, Capt. H. F. Bryan, and the splendid co-ordination of the entire crew, were so perfect, that only three distinct orders were issued in this moment of peril, as follows: 1. Hold your course. 2. Open fire on submarine, port quarter. 3. Sound General Alarm.