He had hoisted the periscope trained to south-west by south, and his heart gave a jump in gratitude to the training that had given him brains to judge rightly. The U-boat--very near and big--with a little foaming line falling away from her bows, was sailing slowly across the periscope, and he winced as he saw on her bridge the little group of figures that seemed to be looking straight at his face. Instantly he lowered the periscope and forced himself--for he felt that he ought to whisper, in fear of his enemy hearing--to shout the order to "stand by bow tubes." A few seconds later he spoke again as the periscope rose--"Midships--steady on one-eight-five--stop starboard." As the surface view showed again he carefully jerked the great instrument a fraction round as he set it at his "deflection"--the angle of lead ahead of the enemy, based on a guess at her speed, that corresponds to the "swing in front" of a rabbit-shooter. Then he lowered his hands from the training-handles lest he should be tempted to move the instrument again, and with the order to fire trembling on his lips, waited as the grey stem of the U-boat slid evenly into the view, and the conning-tower and the vertical spider-hair line that formed his actual sight drew together. At the bow tubes three men and an officer crouched, the pulses of certainly one of them working at abnormal pressure. The actual firing of the tubes would come suddenly, electrically controlled by the Captain sixty feet away. _Thud!_ the port bow torpedo left with a faint roar and rattle--_Thud!_ the heavy ball of the starboard firing-gear came down decisively, and another "18-inch short range--high speed setting" went away on its last run. Two men by the tubes jerked up the vents to let the water rush back into the space that the torpedoes had left vacant, and each of the crouching group held his breath in agonising expectation. It was really only ten seconds (but it must have felt like a hundred) before the great question was answered: and the answer was savagely and brutally clear. A great clanging report shook the E boat, and the hull quivered as if she had lightly touched something forward. A torpedo man leaned across and closed the two spouting tube-vents, then looked aft and, grinning with relief, sang a pæan of victory along the glittering tunnel of the E boat--"_Wow!_" he said. "Good-bye-ee-ee!" IV The sinking of U-C 65 by "C 15" (Lieutenant E. H. Dolphin) provides an odd case. There is a story behind the official despatch:-- "2.43 P.M.: Sighted enemy submarine on the surface five points on the port bow. Dived and flooded both tubes. "3.12: Sighted submarine in periscope steering estimated course of N. 70 E, bearing 40° on starboard bow. "3.15: Fired double shot at 400 yards--one torpedo hit--the other appeared to pass under. "Submarine sank immediately--noise of explosion slight. "3.17: Surface--picked up five survivors of U-C 65."