An hour later preparations were made to ascend and repair the damaged periscopes.  In response to a query from the ship’s commander, Sammy Smith said he could find no trace of any nearby or approaching vessels, although he had given the submarine telephone its best test.

Gradually the Dewey came to the surface as the ballast tanks were emptied.  The hatch was thrown open and the Dewey’s commander raised himself to get a line on his surroundings.

A dense fog had commenced to settle over the water, blotting out the stars and making a mist that hung over the sea like a great gray blanket.

“Could not be better for our purposes had it been made to order,” smiled McClure, as he gave orders for the repair crew to haul out the reserve periscopes and get busy.

It was impossible to see more than a hundred yards from the sides of the Dewey in any direction, and there appeared nothing but the rolling swell of the ocean.  Nevertheless, overlooking no precaution, McClure gave orders for all lights to be dimmed amidships.  In the darkness the crew went to work to substitute the new “eyes” of the ship for the damaged tubes, climbing out on the superstructure and working energetically.

Just as the forward periscope was being lowered into position and secured, Commander McClure, supervising the work, was startled by a voice out of the fog, a stentorian challenge through a megaphone, that seemed almost on top of the submarine.

“What ship is that?” came the call in German.

For a moment it seemed that some one on the deck of the submarine must be playing a prank on his friends.  But Bill Witt, who was doing lookout duty forward, declared that the cry was right at hand and apparently from the deck of a warship.

Whispering to the repair crew to go quickly below McClure addressed himself to the unknown voice in his best Deutsch.

“Dis iss das unterseeboot nein und zwanzig.”

For a moment there was a deathless silence.  Then again the heavy voice to port: 

“You speck not the truth.  U-boat 29 is in der Kiel Canal.  You are English or Yankee.  We call on you to surrender!”

McClure’s answer was to slam down the lid of the conning tower and ring for full speed in the engine room.  Instantly he switched the rudder to starboard as the Dewey’s propeller blades began to turn.

“Dive!” yelled the commander to his navigating officer, as he himself slanted the submerging rudders.

Almost at the same moment the German warship’s powerful searchlights turned full upon the American submarine.  Then came a great spit of fire from a battery aboard the enemy vessel followed by the roar of her guns and a salvo of shots.

“It’s no use, boys,” said the submarine commander to his officers.  “They have us trapped.  Unless we surrender here we are going to be blown out of the water in short order.  We cannot submerge quick enough to avoid that terrible gunfire.”