The crew of the _Colodia_ were by this time so well used to their work that there were few false alarms as the ship tore on through the dark seas. Such errands as this were part of the expectation--almost of routine. The destroyers at night fairly “smelled” their way from point to point. Now and then a porpoise shot straight toward the _Colodia_, leaving a sparkling wake so like that of a torpedo that the lookout might be excused for giving a mistaken warning. But the men knew the real thing now, and the gunners did not bang away at fish or floating débris as they had in the beginning. “Why, even Isa Bopp has not for a long time raised a flivver,” said Al Torrance, discussing this matter with George Belding and Whistler. “And Ikey has stopped straining his eyes when he’s off duty. One time he would have hollered ‘wolf’ if he’d seen a dill pickle floating three hundred yards off our weather bow.” “That’s all right,” said Whistler. “But Ikey won the first gold piece for sighting a German sub when he first went to sea on this old knife-blade. He’s got eyes for something besides dill pickles, has Ikey.” The crackling radio was intercepting messages from other ships--all kinds of ships. The S O S call was no longer being repeated; but the _Colodia’s_ officers had learned the position of the vessel that called for help at the start, and the destroyer did not swerve from her course. She roared on through the dark sea directly for the spot indicated. “There’s nothing fancy in this job, George,” Phil Morgan said to their new chum. “Nothing like a good, slap-dash battle with the Hun fleet, such as we had a few weeks ago, or even chasing a Hun raider out of Zeebrugge, or Kiel. But the old _Colodia_ has had ‘well done’ signaled her by the fleet admiral more than once.” “You bet!” Al Torrance put in. “We’ve sunk more than one of the U-boats. We’re one of ‘the terrors of the sea,’ boy--like the song tells about. That is what they call our flotilla.” “Ah! I’ve heard all that before,” Belding said, in some disgust. “I want to see action!” As it chanced, he saw action on this very cruise. First, however, came the conclusion of the incident that had brought them out of port, chasing a phantom S O S. A light burning low on the water was spied about ten o’clock. It could be nothing but an open boat, and the _Colodia’s_ prow was turned more directly toward it. The sea was really too rough for a submarine to be awash, yet the Huns had been known to linger in the vicinity of their victims so as to catch the rescuing vessel unaware. A sharp lookout was maintained as the _Colodia_ steamed onward. The torch in the open boat flared and smoked, while the boat pitched and tossed--seemingly scarcely under command of its crew. There was no sign of any other craft in the vicinity. The signal from the attacked ship having stopped hours before, without much doubt she had sunk. And but one boat remained!