Then came the more delicate work of pumping out the submerging tanks of the wreck. If this could not be done our work would fail, but Howard was confident and labored almost like a superman. He said he was now as familiar with the engine-room of the sunken sub as the man who made it, and was certain. It took six hours to get satisfactory connections and again the pumps were started.
After pumping three hours on the submerging tanks, Howard dived again, tremendously anxious. He remained below some time before coming up, clearly disappointed. The pumping so far had failed to show the slightest results.
"It's got to come, Wood; it's got to come; but, damn it, it don't come," he fumed, speeding up the pumps to the last ounce of the Anti-Kaiser's powerful engines.
"Hit it for three hours more, then you can tell better. We may expect results too soon," seeing the canker of doubt at work. He realized fully what a failure meant, stupendous service to his country, his fortune and the opportunity to resume the name of Howard Byng, and place little Jim right before the world, all hung in the balance. Who could have stood such a strain and retained power of judgment or even sanity.
I watched him closely the next three hours. The pangs of hell could have gripped no man harder. He stood by the pumps and engines compelling by sheer force of will the last atom of effort in the combination of steel, brass and fuel.
Then he donned the diving suit somewhat as a man going to his execution, but hoping for a reprieve at the last moment, though with magnificent will he continued to lash the straining pumps, and they seemed to actually speed up under the fierce compelling gaze, as he went over the side to go down to pronounce his own doom.
He had been on the bottom but a short time when he signaled to "haul up." I will agree while we were doing so were anxious moments; we were not to remain in doubt long. Even before he could get his suit off he waved his arms, and I knew he was again Howard Byng, resourceful, successful, exultant.
He almost tore off the diving suit after I unfastened it. Scotty and Don sensed excitement and all crowded about him.
"She's coming—she's coming," he shouted; "her bow is now three feet from the bottom and her stern is almost clear. She's ours! She's ours! She must have a heavier line fastened to her bow or the tide will carry her away enough to break our pump connections," he added breathlessly. "She is ours, boys; the Hun is ours! The world is ours!" he again shouted, the strain ending in delirious joy. Then, running to the bow of the Anti-Kaiser, he grabbed the end of a two-inch hawser, scorned the diving suit, and went over the side like a porpoise or a sea-lion into its natural element.