one for'ard the other aft, completed the visible fittings of the deck. The four 12-pounder guns, capable of being used as anti-aircraft weapons, were "housed" below, water-tight steel slabs fitting over the hermetically-sealed recesses in which the guns lay until required for action. In the wake of the conning-tower, and just clear of the raised platform, was another closed recess—longer than those for the quick-firers. This was to accommodate a "twenty-foot" whaler, which, with a couple of collapsible canvas Berthons, formed the complement of boats belonging to R19.

Down below, the accommodation was vastly superior to the earlier types of submarines at the outbreak of war. Transverse water-tight bulkheads divided the hull into five separate compartments, any one of which could be "holed" without completely destroying the buoyancy of the vessel. The foremost compartment contained the twin bow torpedo-tubes with their store of deadly 21-inch torpedoes. The latter, propelled by super-heated compressed air, had an extreme range of five miles, and could be relied upon to run with unerring aim under the influence of gyroscopically-actuated vertical and horizontal rudders. Beneath the torpedo-room was a roomy space for stores as well as the "cable-manger".

The second compartment was given over almost entirely to crew-space, providing sleeping and living accommodation for eighty men.

Next came the 'midship compartment, over which was the conning-tower. Here the officers "messed", each officer having a small separate cabin, while a large "ward-room" afforded comfortable quarters for meals and recreation. Here, too, was the wireless-room.

A steel ladder communicated with the conning-tower, which, when necessary, could be hermetically cut off from the rest of the interior by means of sliding panels working in indiarubber-shod grooves.

Underneath the officers' quarters was the 'midships torpedo-room. This was an innovation in the "R" Class. It enabled a torpedo to be discharged broadside, this obviating the necessity of keeping the submarine "bows-on" to her prey. Fore and aft were two tubes—mounted on "racers" or quadrants of a circle consisting of toothed gun-metal rails. The combined length of this torpedo and its tube was too great to allow the weapon to be "launched in" when the latter was trained athwartships. Consequently the tubes were loaded in a fore-and-aft position and swung round until the mouths engaged with a corresponding pair of flanged, water-tight tubes through either side of the hull. From the broadside tubes torpedoes could be trained through an arc of 30 degrees.

Compartment 4 was devoted almost entirely to machinery—propelling, pumping, and steering—while the aftermost subdivision contained the oil-fuel tanks and electrical storage batteries.

In each compartment were water-ballast, trimming-tanks, and air-locks for life-saving purposes in the event of the vessel being sunk in comparatively shallow water.

R19 had refilled and replenished stores and provisions. She was ready to "sail" at a moment's notice, directly the Lieutenant-Commander received orders from the Commander-in-Chief's office and had obtained the latest charts of the Baltic from the dockyard chart-room.

In the absence of the Hon. Derek Stockdale, the Sub reported himself to Donald Macquare, the senior lieutenant, who specialized in torpedo-gunnery, a tall, big-boned Scot whose abruptness of manner was apt to form a temporary disguise to a large-hearted nature. Macquare was still a young man—the submarine service had no need for middle-aged officers—and, without professing any claim to being a "Popularity Jack", was well liked by his brother officers and fearlessly respected by the crew.

"Good time?" he asked laconically.

"Rather!" replied the Sub. "And now I'm ready for anything—even another hand at bridge. I won the princely sum of one and eightpence from you last time, do you remember?"

The Lieutenant smiled. He remembered the incident when R19, lying in twenty-five fathoms on the bed of the North Sea, was being sought by a dozen hostile destroyers with "distance charges". At any moment the deadly explosive grapnels might have engaged and blown the strongly-built hull to pieces, yet the while the officers played cards, and the men listened to the muffled notes of a gramophone placed in a glass case to obviate any possibility of the Huns detecting the sounds of revelry.

"We're in for a busy time, laddie," remarked the Lieutenant. "This German offensive against Riga looks a serious matter, and I hear the Hun fleet is off to co-operate in the Gulf of Riga. For the life of me I can't imagine what these Russians are doing. It's proper dry rot. 'The glorious and bloodless revolution—the birth of a new Russia', as some of our statesmen expressed themselves. I'm afraid Russia's knocked out."

"Let's hope not," said Fordyce. "In any case, she did jolly well in the beginning of the war."

"Admitted," rejoined Macquare. "Which proves that the old regime, with its acknowledged defects, was infinitely preferable to the equality-for-all policy of the present day. Freedom! They'll find themselves in a pretty mess before they go very far with their chimerical search, you mark my words. Hallo, here's the skipper coming off."

The Hon. Derek came alongside in one of the steamboats belonging to the parent ship. Smartly returning the salutes of his colleagues, he stepped on board, followed by his coxswain, who bore under his arm a bundle of charts and a large blue envelope bound with red tape.

Lieutenant-Commander Stockdale was in his early thirties, a slimly-built man of medium height and of engaging manners. He had gained his present rank through sheer merit and whole-hearted devotion to the branch of the service in which he specialized. He had unlimited influence behind him; he could easily have secured a "warm billet" on one of the royal yachts, but he had steadfastly set his face against favouritism. Notwithstanding his exalted birth, he was in every sense of the word an officer and a gentleman. A firm disciplinarian, he was ever ready to consider a grievance on the part of his crew. Provided a man was keen and reliable, he could rely upon the skipper's impartiality, but woe betide the luckless individual who attempted to "get to windward" of the Hon. Derek.

It was noon before the signal was received for R19 to proceed. Meanwhile a dozen odd jobs had kept Fordyce busily engaged, and almost before he was aware of the fact the submarine, running awash at ten knots, had passed the "gate" in the boom thrown across the harbour's mouth. Then, increasing speed to eighteen, R19 shaped a course N.N.E., across the mine-infested North Sea.

At eight bells (midnight) the Sub, relieved of duty, went below and prepared to turn in. Switching on an electric light in his diminutive cabin, he gave an exclamation of surprise, for, perched at the foot of his bunk, with a wistful look in her brown eyes, was his Irish terrier—the too faithful Flirt.

CHAPTER V

The Stowaway

Lieutenant-Commander the Hon. Derek Stockdale stooped and patted the dog's head. Flirt, instinctively realizing that she was being caressed by a friend, wagged a stumpy tail and licked the skipper's tanned hand.

It was on the morning following R19's departure and Noel Fordyce's discovery. The submarine was still running awash. North, south, east, and west the horizon was unbroken. Sea and sky met in a sharp, well-defined line. Save for R19, the broad expanse of the North Sea appeared to be deserted, although none could tell what dangers lurked beneath the surface of the dull-green water.

The skipper was taking a stroll on deck when Noel appeared with the four-footed Stowaway. Lieutenant Macquare was on duty on the navigating-platform. For'ard of the conning-tower half a dozen bluejackets, clad in fearnought suits, evinced a lively interest in the