And then, when he was almost lapsing into unconsciousness, his head shot up out of the waves, and the boy realized that he had reached the crest of the mountain of water! For a moment Jack felt paralyzed in every muscle. Then, as he breathed again the cold pure air of the outside world, his senses came struggling back through the haze into which he had felt himself drifting and he was invigorated again. With a great effort the boy turned over on his back with his face to the sky and floated luxuriously, with arms and legs limp on the surface of the water. Resting thus for a time, he turned finally and struck out with a bold stroke, determined at once to make note of his position. It all came back to him in a flash---the unknown ship that Sammy Smith had heard working its way up along the coast. Was it near? Was it friend or enemy? Would he be seen? Jack lifted his head and scanned the horizon. It was early morning and dawn was breaking out of the sky. The first thing that attracted his attention was a heavy pall of smoke that hung over the water. The sea was rough. Carried up on the crest of a wave he beheld the ship that the microphone had discovered for him in the wireless room. It was now a long way past the spot where the _Dewey_ lay submerged and had passed northward, several hundred yards nearer the coast. Carried fifty or a hundred feet forward through the water by the force of the expulsion from the torpedo tube, the youth had emerged in the widened wake of the vessel. Apparently it was a German warship returning to its base in Wilhelmshaven after a night raid off Dunkirk or Ostend. It was hugging the coast fortifications now for protection. Floating alone in the ocean, a mere speck in the water, Jack turned toward land. It was his only salvation now. Tearing off his hat and with it the wet waste he had inserted as a cushion for his head, he struck out with long bold strokes. The fresh air and the salt water invigorated him wonderfully after the long confinement in the stifling atmosphere of the _Dewey_. As he swam he thought of the boys back there in Uncle Sam's submersible and how they, too, would be negotiating this same swim very shortly---provided they escaped as safely as he had. Before his mind flashed also the picture of what might happen to him when at last his feet would strike bottom and he would make his way through the surf to shore. He knew full well that practically all of the Belgian seafront was held by the Germans. It was not likely he could go very far without encountering a Hun coast patrol. But he reserved to make the best of the situation and trust to luck. After a hard swim he found himself in the surf and then his feet touched bottom and he made his way shoreward through the breakers. Fatigued by the trip, he threw himself down on the sand, puffing and blowing from the effects of his fight in the water.