The shining surface of the oil slick was broken by a small black speck. He was heading the ship straight for it. Other dark fragmentary objects were discerned. Fraser signaled to stop the engines. In another moment he was down on deck directing the seamen as they fished a few floating objects out of the water. Evans had followed him. When the first of these was brought aboard, Fraser seized it and carried it quickly into the light of the wardroom. It was a splintered piece of wood. Fraser examined it carefully, then reached for another which a boatswain’s mate brought him from the rail.
“That settles it,” he said. “We got her.”
To his professional eye there was no doubt that this wood had come from the inside of an enemy submarine. Other fragments were brought in which confirmed his conviction; mute testimony to the tragedy just ended in the depths of the sea. Before long, enough fragments had been gathered to provide souvenirs of the chase to every man on board.
“It has been a wonderful hunt,” said Evans with warmth, “and the team-work of your squadron is the best thing I ever saw. The other ships will like to hear the result.”
“Yes, I’ll tell them,” said Fraser, and went off to call them by radio phone.
Evans left the wardroom and hastened aft to the radio-compass shack. The operator who took the bearings had been relieved at midnight by the other operator assigned to this duty, just before the final barrage was dropped. But with things like this going on he did not, as usual, turn in and go to sleep. He stayed beside his mate in the shack where Evans now found him still listening with the extra phones. It was not their part to question, but only eternally to listen. Through the din of the bombing and through the long hours afterwards, they had listened intently and patiently.
Evans came into the shack like a gust of wind.
“We got the sub,” he said to the tired operators, “and we have your good work to thank for it, not forgetting the hydrophone listeners. You gave us good fixes, you and the boys on the other ships, and without ’em we couldn’t have got her; neither could we without the hydrophone fixes later on; as for the skipper, you’re lucky to be on his ship, he knows how to use your fixes when you give ’em to him.”
“I reckon I didn’t do much,” said the second operator.
“There’ll be another hunt, and maybe you’ll get your chance then.”