Each submarine, its long, fish-like shape lying prone in the almost
still, transparent water, differed not only in size, but in make, from
its fellows, and no two conning towers even were alike. Lying apart, as if sulking in a corner, was an example of the old
"Gymnote" type of under-sea boat. She went by the name of the _Carp_,
and she was very squat, small and ugly, her telescopic conning tower
being of hard canvas. To Claire, the _Carp_ always recalled an old Breton woman she had known
as a girl. That woman had given thirteen sons to France, and of the
thirteen five had died while serving with the colours--three at sea and
two in Tonkin--and a grateful country had given her a pension of ten
francs a week, two francs for each dead son. Like that Breton woman, the ugly, sturdy little _Carp_ had borne heroes
in her womb, and like her, too, she had paid terrible toll of her sons
to death. Occasionally, but very seldom now, the _Carp_ was taken out to sea, and
the men, strange to say, liked being in her, for they regarded her as a
lucky boat; she had never had what they called a serious accident. Sunk deeper in the water was the broad-backed _Abeille_, significantly
named "La Pétroleuse," the heroine of four explosions, no favourite with
either crews or commanders; and, cradled in a low dock on the farther
strip of beach, was stretched the _Triton_, looking like a huge fish
which had panted itself to death. The _Triton_ also was not a lucky
boat; she had been the theatre of a terrible mishap when, for some
inexplicable cause, the conning tower had failed to close. Claire was
always glad to see her safe in dock. Out in the middle of the bay was _La Glorieuse_, a submarine of the
latest type. Had she not lain so low, little more than her flying bridge
being above the water, she would have put her elder sisters to shame, so
exquisitely shaped was she. Everything about _La Glorieuse_ was made
delicately true to scale, and she could carry a crew of over twenty men. But somehow Claire de Wissant did not care for this miniature leviathan
as she did for the older kind of submarine, and, with more reason for
his prejudice, the officer in charge of the flotilla shared her feeling. Commander Dupré thought _La Glorieuse_ difficult to handle under water. But he had had the same opinion of the _Neptune_, one of the two
submarines which were out this fine August morning....

An eager "Bonjour, madame," suddenly sounded in Claire de Wissant's ear,
and she turned quickly to find one of the younger officers at her elbow. "The _Neptune_ is a few minutes late," he said smiling. "I hope your
sister has enjoyed her cruise!" He was looking with admiring and
grateful eyes at the young wife of the Mayor of Falaise, for Claire de
Wissant and her widowed sister, Madeleine Baudoin, were very kind and
hospitable to the officers of the submarine flotilla. The life of both officers and men who volunteer for this branch of the
service is grim and arduous. And if this is generally true of them all,
it was specially so of those who served under Commander Dupré. By a
tacit agreement with their chief, they took no part in the summer
gaieties of the watering-place which has grown up round the old port of
Falaise, and out of duty hours they would have led dull lives indeed had
it not been for the hospitality shown them by the owners of the Pavillon
de Wissant, and for the welcome which awaited them in the freer, gayer
atmosphere of Madame Baudoin's villa, the Châlet des Dunes. Madeleine Baudoin was a lively, cheerful woman, younger in nature if not
in years than her beautiful sister, and so she was naturally more
popular with the younger officers. They had felt especially flattered
when Madame Baudoin had allowed herself to be persuaded to go out for a
couple of hours in the _Neptune_; till this morning neither of the
sisters had ever ventured out to sea in a submarine. And now 'twas true that the _Neptune_ had been out longer than her
commander had said she would be, but no touch of fear brushed Claire de
Wissant; she would have trusted what she held most precious in the
world--her children--to Commander Dupré's care, and a few moments after
her companion had spoken she suddenly saw the little tricolor, for which
her keen eyes had for long swept the sea, bravely riding the waves, and
making straight for the bay. The flag moving swiftly over the surface of the blue water was a
curious, almost an uncanny sight; one which never failed to fill Claire
with a kind of spiritual exaltation. For the tiny strip of waving colour
was a symbol of the gallantry, of the carelessness of danger, lying
under the dancing, sun-flecked ripples which alone proved that the
tricolor was not some illusion of sorcery. And then, as if the submarine had been indeed a sentient, living thing,
the _Neptune_ lifted her great shield-like back up out of the sea and
glided through the narrow neck of the bay, and so close under the long
deck on which Madame de Wissant and her companion were standing. The eager, busy hum of work slackened--discipline is not perhaps quite
so taut in the French as it is in the British Navy--for both men and
officers were one and all eager to see the lady who had ventured out in
the _Neptune_ with their commander. Only those actually on board had
seen Madame Baudoin embark; there was a long, rough jetty close to her
house, the lonely Châlet des Dunes, and it was from there the submarine
had picked up her honoured passenger. But when Commander Dupré's stern, sun-burnt face suddenly appeared above
the conning tower, the men vanished as if by enchantment, while the
eager, busy hum began again, much as if a lever, setting this human
machinery in motion, had been touched by some titanic finger. The officers naturally held their ground. There was a look of strain in the Commander's blue eyes, and his mouth
was set in hard lines; a thoughtful onlooker would have suspected that
the exciting, dangerous life he led was trying his nerves. His men knew
better; still, though they had no clue to the cause which had changed
him, they all knew he had changed greatly of late; to them individually
he had become kinder, more human, and that heightened their regret that
he was now quitting the Northern Flotilla. Commander Dupré had asked to be transferred to the Toulon Submarine
Station; some experiments were being made there which he was anxious to
watch. He was leaving Falaise on the morrow. Claire de Wissant reddened, and a gleam leapt into her eyes as she met
the naval officer's grave, measuring glance. But very soon he looked
away from her, for now he was bending down, putting out a hand to help
his late passenger to step from the conning tower. Smiling, breathless, a little dishevelled, her grey linen skirt
crumpled, Madame Baudoin looked round her, dazed for the moment by the
bright sunlight. Then she called out gaily:

"Well, Claire! Here I am--alive and very, very hot!"