Twenty-four hours later the luck turned, and all these disappointments were forgotten. At 2.6 P.M., Lieut.-Commander Raikes sighted yet another U-boat in open water, on the old practice ground of the neutral cruiser of three days before. He put E. 54 to her full speed, and succeeded in overtaking the enemy. By 2.35 he had placed her in a winning position on the U-boat’s bow, and at right angles to her course. At 400 yards’ range he fired two torpedoes, and had the satisfaction to see one of them detonate in a fine cloud of smoke and spray. When the smoke cleared away, the U-boat had entirely disappeared; there were no survivors. Next day, after dark, E. 54’s time being up, she returned to her base, having had a full taste of despair and triumph. Earlier in the year, Lieutenant Bradshaw, in G. 13, had had a somewhat similar experience. He went out to a distant patrol in cold March weather and had not been on the ground five hours when his adventures began. At 11.50 A.M. he was blinded by a snow squall; and when he emerged from it, he immediately sighted a large hostile submarine within shot. Unfortunately the U-boat sighted G. 13 at the same moment, and the two dived simultaneously. This, as may easily be imagined, is one of the most trying of all positions in the submarine game, and so difficult as to be almost insoluble. The first of the two adversaries to move will very probably be the one to fall in the duel; yet a move must be made sooner or later, and the boldest will be the first to move. Lieutenant Bradshaw seems to have done the right thing both ways. For an hour and a half he lay quiet, listening for any sign of the U-boat’s intentions; then, at 1.30 P.M., he came to the surface, prepared for a lightning shot or an instantaneous manœuvre. No more complete disappointment could be imagined. He could see no trace of the enemy--he had not even the excitement of being shot at. On the following day he was up early, and spent nearly eleven fruitless hours knocking about in a sea which grew heavier and heavier from the S.S.E. Then came another hour which made ample amends. At 3.55 P.M. a large U-boat came in sight, steering due west. Lieutenant Bradshaw carried out a rapid dive and brought his tubes to the ready; courses and speeds as requisite for attack. (These reports often omit superfluous details, while they bristle with intention.) The manœuvring which followed took over half an hour, and must have seemed interminably long to everyone in G. 13. At 4.30 the enemy made the tension still greater by altering course some 35°. It was not until 4.49 that Lieutenant Bradshaw found himself exactly where all commanders would wish to be, 8 points on the enemy’s bow. He estimated the U-boat’s speed at eight knots, allowed 18° deflection accordingly, and fired twice. It was a long shot in rough water, and he had nearly a minute to wait for the result. Then came the longed-for sound of a heavy explosion. A column