There was a tiger-like growl or "g-r-rh" of anger as the tube sent out the greased steel complicated missile, and outside I pictured the white wake that streaked in the direction of the warship. It was not visible from the periscope, which a second after the signal to fire had been brought down under the surface. The comparative stillness was gone, and the inside of the submarine seemed to have awakened from a doze. There was all bustle and hurry around me. The captain shot a look at the gyroscopic compass and gave orders for the motors to go ahead, and for half an hour the submarine pushed about under the surface. Then the commander had the periscope raised, and on the distant horizon I made out the destroyer--a tiny thing even in the glass of the magnifying lens of the under-sea boat's "eye." My feet were numbed with cold as I walked for'd and looked at the empty tube. These torpedoes cost L500 (two thousand, five hundred dollars), and in war time they are all set to sink if they fail to hit the target; set to sink because they might be used by the enemy or get in our own way. The next thrilling moment came when the commander decided to bring his craft to the surface. "Come to surface and blow external tanks!" ordered the two-striper. "Open five, six, seven, eight, to blow!" The round, white perforated lungs of the submarine sucked in the air in the craft. "Open one, two, three, four, to blow," came from the skipper. "One, two, three, four, to blow," I heard repeated. I felt no perceptible motion of ascending; but those lungs were working hard, which could be learned by placing your hand over them. The captain shot a glance at the dial, which told him how far up his vessel had gone, and then mounted the conning-hatch ladder, and soon one observed a spot of daylight. A sea washed over the submarine, filling the commander's boots with water. He was followed by a sailor, who quickly attached the lowered sailcloth bridge to the rails of the conning tower. Then the captain's expert and watchful eye caught bubbles coming from one of the tanks. "Close one!" he shouted down the hatch. "Close one," repeated the sub-lieutenant. "Two, five, and seven," came from the voice outside, and so on, until soon all the tanks had pumped out their water and were filled with air; and, for the sake of accuracy, each order was sounded again below. "Bring her around to north," said the commander. When we submerged it had been a chilly day, with a peep of the sun every now and again. The weather had changed since we left our berth under the sea. The sky was overcast, and snow was falling. And this change in the weather had taken place while the captain had been accomplishing one of Jules Verne's dreams.