Up rose the White Ensign bravely in the breeze. Simultaneously came the tell-tale bark of a torpedo. With a quick movement of her helm Q 171 avoided the missile, but even as she did so another torpedo came hissing under the waves. To avoid the new menace by alteration of course was impossible. The Q-boat carried too much way to reverse and gather sternway in time. To Meredith, standing by the after quick-firer, the sight of the approaching torpedo was a nerve-thrilling one. Gripping the rail, he watched its approach as it headed almost under that part of the deck on which he stood. Mechanically he gripped the wire and waited. He could do nothing: not even run a few paces in order to avoid, if possible, the direct effect of the explosion. He felt much as the French aristocrats must have felt when they lay strapped to the bed of the guillotine waiting for the fatal knife to fall.... "How much longer?" he thought. "How much----" "Stand by with the depth-charges," roared Morpeth, as Q 171 swung round and made straight for the spot where the twin periscopes of a U-boat were disappearing. The torpedo had been aimed truly, save in one respect. The commander of the U-boat had gauged the draught of the mystery ship by that of his own craft, forgetting that, although above water Q 171 resembled a German submarine, her depth beneath the water-line was only seven feet six inches. The missile had travelled harmlessly under her to finish its run three miles beyond. Outboard toppled the two metal canisters. At the speed of an express train the reel of wire ran out; then, with a detonation that threatened to shake every rivet in the Q-boat's hull, the depth-charges exploded simultaneously. There was no time to investigate whether the U-boat had been destroyed, or whether, with buckled plates and gaping seams, she was blowing her tanks in an attempt to reach the surface. In any case, even if she did survive, her crew would be so shaken by the concussion that they would be "down and out" as far as further submarine work was concerned. The shrill whine of a 6-inch shell drew attention to the fact that the destroyers were getting within range, and that a "registering shot" had been fired to test the accuracy of their range-finder. Almost immediately after, and before a second flash came from the nearmost torpedo boat, Q 171 liberated her smoke-screen; then, answering rapidly to her helm, spun round and practically retraced her course. There was a chance of escape--that of making for Danish waters--but Morpeth scorned the idea. As he had remarked, he meant to give Fritz a run for his money. He would go down with flying colours, biting savagely till the last. And his men were with him. Discarding their black oilskin coats, and tightening their belts, they spat upon their hands after the manner of sailor-men and prepared to take their gruelling.