CHAPTER XII. STORIES OF SUBMARINES. "_We'll duck and we'll dive like little tin turtles,_ _We'll duck and we'll dive beneath the North Seas,_ _Until we strike something that doesn't expect us:_ _From here to Cuxhaven it's go as you please._" Rudyard Kipling. I have told you in these pages of many daring deeds and narrow escapes on the battlefield; but for exploits which really thrill us and make us hold our breath, we must go to the men who fight in the air or under the sea. Jules Verne never imagined anything half so marvellous as their doings. When the war is over, we shall hear stories of aviators and of the crews of submarines which will make the wildest inventions of writers of adventure seem tame and colourless. "The business of the submarines," says Mr. Kipling, "is to run monstrous risks from the earth, air, and water, in what, to be of any use, must be the coldest of blood." Submarine officers, he continues, "play hourly for each other's lives, with Death, the umpire, always at their elbow on tiptoe, to give them 'out.'" And consider the bowling and fielding in this nightmare game, where there is rarely a second innings. A bomb from a Zeppelin or an aeroplane, a shot from a 4-inch gun, a bump against a mine, a collision with a reef or the bows of a destroyer, trawler, or tramp, an accident to the complicated gear--and all is over. Nevertheless, the officers and crews of submarines soon lose the sense of imminent peril, and go about their business quite unconcerned. * * * * * The following story shows how a submarine was trapped, but managed to free herself and turn the tables on her enemy. A British boat, which was cruising under water in the North Sea, ran her nose into a net and became entangled. She rose to the surface, meaning to cut away the net and get clear. No sooner did her conning tower appear above the water than her commander saw a Zeppelin hovering right above him, and in a moment a bomb plumped into the sea unpleasantly near. He had no alternative but to go below again; but this he had to do as gingerly as possible, for otherwise the submarine would have wrapped herself up in the net still more. Steadily she sank, and by slow working and wriggling managed to get clear of the entanglement. Then she lay on the bottom, and her commander began to think out the next move in the perilous game. Should he go back to warn the other submarines, or should he wait and try to "bag" something? He knew that the Zeppelin believed him to be entangled in the net, and that it was sure to signal for destroyers to come and finish him off, so he sat tight and waited. In a few minutes he heard the screws of the destroyers churning above him. Then he rose, and at the critical moment gave the signal to let loose a torpedo. The shot went home: the destroyer crumpled up, and was taken in tow by a consort. Unhappily, as the commander had no more torpedoes, he was balked of a second victim.