"Hard lines!" he ejaculated. "If it weren't for the girls----" While the boat still carried way he put the helm hard over, until her bows pointed in the direction of her captor. Dejectedly the crew awaited the arrival of the torpedo-boat, wondering what course the Germans would pursue. "Look!" exclaimed Thelma, excitedly pointing to the hostile craft. The sight that met their gaze was an inspiring one. From somewhere at a great distance away a shell had hurtled through the air. Striking the water within twenty yards of its objective, the missile had ricochetted, and had shattered the torpedo-boat's foremost funnel. Another and another followed in quick succession, both bursting over the deck of the doomed vessel. The Germans replied, firing with great vigour, but the crew of the motor-boat could form no idea of what they were firing at or the result of their efforts. In five minutes the torpedo-boat was badly holed for'ard and making water fast. "The cowardly skunks!" exclaimed Kenneth, frantically restarting the motor. The epithet was justifiable, for the commander of the torpedo-boat was endeavouring to use the little motor-boat as a screen from her enemy's fire. Owing to the already crippled condition of the German craft, Kenneth could easily out-manoeuvre her. In spite of the risk of a shell from the exasperated Teuton, he kept his vessel about half a mile from the torpedo-boat and awaited the inevitable ending. It was not long in coming. Torn by the well-aimed shells, her mast, funnels, and deck fittings swept clean away, the torpedo-boat settled down. From amidships a cloud of black smoke, tinged with lurid flames, soared skywards. Men were pouring up from the engine-room and throwing themselves into the sea. The other craft had ceased firing. She was coming up quickly, and could now be distinguished as a British E-class destroyer. Suddenly the doomed vessel gave a roll to starboard, flung her stern in the air, and with her triple propellers racing madly, disappeared from sight, leaving a heavy pall of smoke to mark the spot when she sank. "We must pick up those fellows," announced Kenneth, pointing to about twenty heads bobbing in the water. "I'll slow down as close as I can. Mind your wrist, Rollo." Three minutes later all the crew of the motor-boat were busily engaged in hauling half-drowned, and for the most part wounded, German seamen into their craft, till eleven men, the sole survivors of the luckless torpedo-boat, were rescued. "You Belgians?" asked one, in broken French, when he saw the lads' uniforms. "Good! We surrender to you." "You'll be transferred to that vessel," said Kenneth, pointing to the now close British destroyer. "No, they will shoot us," exclaimed the terrified man. "Nonsense!" replied Kenneth. "British seamen are not like----" He was on the point of saying "Germans", but pulled himself up and added "pirates".