there could be no doubt as to the fate of the modern pirate. Simultaneously a deafening cheer burst from the throats of the British crew. It was a feat to be proud of, sending a hostile submarine to her last account before the Portchester Castle was three days out of port.

When within signalling distance of the Douro the latter rehoisted her colours and made the "NC" signal, "Immediate assistance required".

"Perhaps the Huns have already begun to scuttle her," remarked Tom Webb. "Although I can't detect any sign of a list."

"We'll soon find out," replied Osborne. "Pipe away the cutter," he ordered, in response to a sign from the skipper.

Quickly the falls were manned, the boat's crew, fully armed, scrambling into the boat as it still swung from the davits. Sub-lieutenant Webb, being the officer in charge, dropped into the stern-sheets.

"Lower away."

With a resounding smack the cutter renewed a touching acquaintance with the water. The falls were disengaged, and, to Webb's encouraging order, "Give way, lads!" the boat drew clear of the now almost stationary ship, which was within a couple of cables' lengths of the Douro.

"Wonder what's wrong?" thought Webb, for there were still no signs that the Portuguese vessel had sustained damage. She was rolling heavily in the seaway. Her engines being stopped, she had fallen off in the trough of the sea.

Rounding under her stern the Sub brought the cutter under the lee of the tramp. The bowman dexterously caught a coil of rope thrown by a seaman on the Douro's deck. The trouble was how to board without staving in the cutter's planks against the heaving, rusty sides of the tramp.

The Douro had not come off unscathed in her flight from the German submarine. Under her quarter, and about three feet above the water-line, were a couple of shell-holes. Fortunately the projectiles had failed to burst, otherwise the tramp would not be still afloat. The missiles had partly demolished the wheel-house and played havoc with the bridge, as the shattered woodwork and the debris that littered the deck bore witness. Two of the crew had been slain and three wounded, as a result of being unable to lift a hand in self-defence, yet the Portuguese skipper had held gallantly on his way until a sliver of steel from one of the shells had penetrated the main steam-pipe and had rendered the Douro incapable of 

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