The helm was put over, and, always edging towards the distant harbour, the _Zero_ dodged and turned and retraced her tracks to the skipper’s orders. She pirouetted like a debutante, and it seemed as if she fully appreciated the fact that, all the while, somewhere beneath her, ‘123’ an enemy for the moment, was watching and waiting the opportunity to fire her torpedoes at her. The sun shone brightly and danced on the wavelets as they advanced to meet her. Occasionally a light spray kissed her in passing, and the harbour and ‘home’ drew nearer and more acceptable. Away ahead a gull circled and flew down to the wave tops, hovered an instant, wheeled up, and finally fluttered slowly down as if seeking something. Jenkins brought his glass down with a bang. ‘Hard-a-port!’ he cried. ‘There she is! Quarter of a mile off, four points on the port bow.’ The _Zero_ swung round in her own length, but even as she turned two glittering objects showed up in the water, leaving white streaks behind them and approaching her at a prodigious speed. ‘Steady!’ shouted Jenkins. ‘Watch the torpedoes! Stop her!’ One ‘fish’ passed well astern while the other barely grazed under her counter. Five hundred yards farther on they broke surface, and the red-painted collision heads bobbed up and down in silent mockery. ‘Away gig!’ piped the quartermaster, as Burton came tumbling down the ladder. Two seamen jumped into the boat while the others lowered her to the water, where on the tables being unhooked she towed alongside by her painter, which was made fast from the _Zero’s_ fo’c’sle. The man in the stern-sheets grasped the tiller and sheered her out, for the Torpedo Boat had not lost way yet and was still going through the water at a good five knots. Then quietly he eased in again, and the remainder of the crew dropped into the boat followed by the T.I. and Burton. ‘Ready!’ cried the latter, as he took his seat. ‘Let go, for’ard. Way together!’ As she sheered out, the Torpedo Boat slid swiftly past her. When all was clear, her engines churned astern and she gradually lost her weigh and came to a standstill. All this time Jenkins could see no sign of the submarine, which had evidently retired to a discreet depth after firing the ‘mouldies.’ Nothing was to be seen of her as he looked all round in the proximity of his vessel. Then suddenly he realised with a shock that she was there, had risen just behind him within a biscuit’s throw, bobbed up like a Jack-in-the-Box, in fact. True, she was deep in the water but her whole superstructure was above surface, and as she lay there apparently deserted she put him in mind of some monster of the deep thrown up by an underwater explosion. Presently the conning-tower hatch opened and Raymond and the helmsman appeared. A moment or two passed, an order was given, and she slid quietly alongside, within hailing distance.