"Well, good-bye, Crosthwaite, old boy, and good luck!" exclaimed the genial Huxtable, as the picket-boat, skilfully handled by Midshipman Sefton, came alongside the submarine. "Hope you haven't been disappointed on the score of excitement. I did my level best to give you a good time." "That you did, sir," replied the Sub. "By Jove! it makes me want to kick myself for not applying for submarine service when I had the chance." "It's never too late to mend," rejoined the Lieutenant-Commander. "Once more, good luck to you!" The picket-boat backed astern, and was soon pelting at a good eighteen knots towards her parent ship. The two midshipmen were exchanging their experiences with great gusto, while Dick, standing beside the coxswain, was trying to convince himself that it was not all a dream that he had really been to Constantinople and back again. Suddenly the coxswain pointed towards the battleship. "Something amiss there, sir," he exclaimed. "Bless me, if she ain't hard aground!" Even as he spoke a furious cannonade from skilfully-hidden shore batteries was opened upon the luckless _Hammerer_, which, having struck a shoal, presented a fixed target to a hundred Turkish guns. All around her the water was churned by the bursting projectiles. To attempt to take the picket-boat any nearer would be almost suicidal. "Easy ahead," ordered Dick, at the same time signing to the coxswain to put the helm hard over. Anxiously the Sub awaited developments. The _Hammerer_, badly pounded, was replying fiercely and resolutely to the galling fire. Thick clouds of smoke poured from her twin funnels as her powerful engines, running at full speed astern, strove to release her from the grip of the shoal. "Hurrah!" exclaimed Sefton. "Look, sir!" Considering that Dick was looking all the time, the advice was unnecessary. Yet the midshipman's excitement was justifiable, for a striking example of British pluck was about to be shown. Steaming slowly astern, the _Tremendous_ backed into the shell-torn inferno. Reckless of the hail of projectiles, a swarm of bluejackets clustered on her poop, while from under her quarter a boat carrying a hawser sped towards her disabled consort. In an incredibly short space of time, communication was established between the two battleships; but, just as the _Tremendous_ gathered way, a shell severed the stout hempen rope. Another attempt was made, but hardly was the boat clear of her parent ship when a projectile ploughed through her bows. Enshrouded in a cloud of smoke and steam, the pinnace disappeared beneath the waves. Undaunted, the _Tremendous_ sent out a third hawser. Working under great difficulties, the crew of the _Hammerer_ succeeded in getting the stiff wire rope on board and attaching it to a chain "necklace" round the base of her after turret. "She's moving!" exclaimed Farnworth.